Lies Without Reflections

8. Chapter

It was a peculiar morning altogether; too good to be real.

She didn't wake up screaming for mum and dad just sighed a horrible soul-trembling tearstained sigh and turned over without breaking the thread of dream she was weaving.

I managed to get her hair done almost perfectly. The chick that picked her up for school turned up on time, she didn't moan about the outfit I picked out for her, the slices of cheese on her sandwiches weren't the size of a piece of wooden bearing, the cat didn't hiss at me when I gave her food.

Then I saw them, standing in the kitchen making breakfast, perched on the cupboard watching me with their yellow eyes from their ashen, pale maws. Watching, watching, never saying a word. Their silence was measured, heavy—it sat on my shoulder.

My demons. A gnarly, long-boned one radiating the future I wouldn't have, always in my way, stepping in front of me so I would stumble. A pair, a smaller, hourglass one with undulating, stubborn curls, strong and capable, a taller one with long hair, lanky arms and an overbearing ego. One that walked in the sunlight.

What did it matter? When I was still breathing but it made no sense, my breath was not a measure of time, not the tick of a countdown but the reminder of the perpetual clock never winding down. I was still breathing... There was no fellowship to be found, I would gain no friend in death, I would have no grace in dying by a lover’s hand. Breathing was guilt and shame. Death would scorn me for fleeing him so cowardly.

I've grown a fondness towards storms. I would go out and dance in the flicker of the thunder and shout comforted, that even the sky could scream and nothing was lost.

I knew I was mad. Yet I thought of myself as one having the madness of a catastrophe, like the burn of Rome from Nero's palace, I watched myself spread like a dark, dark fire until I scorched my life.

The centre of the universe was the little life that would eventually become infidel despite all my motherly deeds.

Constantly feeling your soul is splitting, being arranged back to back opposing one another is exhausting, especially when you have to cloak the absence of wrinkles, grey hair and the passage of time in general.

We somehow made our way forward, by bickering into an age where she was more than a bunny-legged annoying brat but a lanky blond lass - my own private ray of sunshine. She contrasted my night and I was infinitely grateful for the radiance she brought. Although she still sometimes possessed the mentality of an under-f****d spinster I began to see how my mistakes were becoming virtues, my mishaps, re-evaluated, transform into premature wisdom, how my words take root and eventually bloom in that tawny head of hers.

I even revived the tradition of the long walks we used to have. Those walks were for me, to acquire some stuff our parents weren't supposed to see. These walks were for her. So she would have something to remember me by.

Once I read a book on how French women changed their lifestyle completely to attract males. I thought of integrating that into her life.

As she got older from the awkward mother-daughter power battles we gradually transitioned into the bond of real sisterhood.

She sat on the stairs zipping up her boots while I was waiting for her fully dressed supporting the doorframe, like always.

“When will you tell me?”

I was looking out the window watching the blurred blobs of the passers-by walking past against the smoky winter gloom.

“Tell you what?” I braided my arms about me, shifting my weight from one leg to another.

“I'm not as blond as we both think” she said and I heard her smile without looking “Whatever it is you're keeping in the closet”

My lips twitched with the memory of a smile, stifling it instead I sighed.

“You can't keep a secret if your life depended on it, sweetie. You even suck at whispering. You're not the best person to be any sort of confidential with”

She picked up her faux parka and shrugged it on. Found the scarf stuffed into one of the sleeves, yanked it out to un-then re-ravel it around her neck.

“Everytime. You switch on the wards when I ask something you think I shouldn't know. You won't hurt me by saying I'm stupid. We both know you're the golden girl—”

“Don't be an i***t—”

“Mallory” her blue eyes skewed a severe wound into mine “you hurt me more by underestimating me. I don't have any walls to put up against you. Why do you?”

I walked over to untangle her of the scarf she managed to strangle herself with in the adolescent clumsiness I had grown out of years ago but still felt the awkwardness of in my bones. So I tamed it around her neck fashionably.

“Must you always be a constant pain?”

“You'd miss it if I wasn't” she grimaced.

I shook my head and flashed the pearly whites.

“Let's go and Malena”

She rolled her eyes at me and we set off.

When we did Malena, we went in the middle of the road, in plain sight, well dressed, drawing all the eyes.

She was almost as tall as I was. Begging for the heels I never let her wear. I wasn't irrational. But she pinpointed the ones used for only one purpose. The ones I conquered an ocean of blood in. Stepping into my shoes was never physically possible. Not for her.

We sat at pretty tables at neat cafes and stared out the shop windows like a pair of cats with feline curiosity watching life walk by in front of us.

“That one totally thinks just because he has a man-bun And a beard he's attractive” she mused.

“I don't think those play a part in him being delusional”

We looked at each other at the same time and laughed.

“Will we ever get tired of this?” she asked.

“I don't think so” I cleared my throat. Hunger made my voice coarse with craving sometimes. I swallowed it until I could press it down with my tongue and forget it ever existed.

I felt the choke of time slipping through my fingers as she sat there imagining a time when she wasn't around; when I would be having tea with loneliness in the dusk of winter.

“Did you ever think of giving me to an orphanage? Foster parents?”

Seeing my eyes widen she just looked at me expectantly.

“Are you kidding?”

Self-consciously she stirred her tea putting a third sugar cube in it making it undrinkable. Knowing that I was too baffled she thought it didn't matter.

“That was out of the question. No. Jesus, what's up with you? First being all concerned about my supposed secrets then this? Has something happened?”

My sister fixed the porcelain teacup that sported Marie Antoinette's little stylized face painted on it in black. The queen smiled at me with an enigmatic smile that should've meant a thousand things that I couldn't think of.

“I found some pictures of you. Old pictures”

I arched an eyebrow.

“…And?” I waved my hand for her to go on.

“I don't know, it made me think”

“Nothing good ever starts with you thinking” I said leaning back in my chair, bracing for what might come.

“I found that picture of you and...him. Walking somewhere by a field”

Half of my mind heard her paint and outline the image I already had in mind. The only picture I had with him. Before the dive, before the door swinging open, in the days of baffling unbearable kindness...

“Where has he gone?”

“I don't know”

“Wrong question but I can't rephrase it I guess. Why did you even let him walk out on you so easily? I thought…well I was under the impression that the two of you...”

She frowned looking confused.

“Listen, WE didn't even know what to name that”

“It was like you two were...in a bubble. Nothing mattered. And you always smiled and laughed. I heard you even from my room. It was annoying. God”

I scoffed.

“I couldn't imagine missing that rackety sound” she said unbelieving.

“We crack up all the time” I offered cautiously knowing it was a weak excuse.

“I know but you must hear it too. It's not the same. It has changed, it's somehow-broken?”

It was my turn to frown, glance at the window, then back, examining the crack on the dark mahogany table.

“What exactly do you want to get out of me with reminiscing about this?”

Though non-existent hearts aren't frail, imaginary ones would just yield and bend like elastic rulers, if you make them bow, they spring back with a sting. No one said that their curtsy bit like a rabid dog.

“The reason why you're not at home on a Tuesday night at four in the morning”

“My little excursions are the exact reason I could bring you up like I did”

“That's not an answer”

“What do you want to hear, then? That I sneak out to meet him every night? Or that I spend the night at his? That your good old Mallory has a clandestine affair to spice it up? Is that what you want to hear?”

Faces started to turn to gawk so I forwarded a black look to our neighbouring tables.

She picked up her fork and danced it on its teeth on the polished glassy surface of her plate.

“Not him, specifically...”she muttered.

“I haven't seen or heard from him since”

A long pause. All that unsaid madness rushed into my throat, filling it with its inarticulate jumble, straining against the tissue, wanting to be free of its ties.

“Since he called you a monster?”

I blinked.

“You heard us?” the blood congealed in me.

“Apparently”

Her dead calmness wrung me hard.

“What else did you hear?”

She averted her eyes.

“What else? Dammit!” I hissed.

“Only what you said in the hall” she turned defensive.

I sized her up for a minute, scaling the chances.

“Listen to me, if you're lying...”

Her eyes widened into saucers.

“What? No, I swear. I had to pee so bad but I kept it in then I heard voices so I peeped out the door and saw you fight over something. I never understood why he called you - called you that. And the look on his face… Like he wanted to throw up all over you. Plain repulsion”

“You don't have to describe it in such detail. I was there”

She fell silent. It was weird how she had changed. Slowly, slowly, you only realize the time passing when she doesn't mouth back impertinently, wrinkling her nose but shuts up when she has to just by hearing the edge of your voice.

The silence stretched and none of us acknowledged the decapitated conversation with anything but a sigh or an awkward look.

“When do you miss them the most?”

She took me off guard. I was glad to be off topic. I ran my finger gently over the crack on the table to give myself time to think.

“At around seven in the morning”

She clucked her tongue in realization.

“That's when dad used to wake you up”

Cupping my mug I sipped my coffee that left a burning trail of bitter down my spine. It also spiked the hunger I was so precariously controlling, blocking out all the birdsong of the ribcages surrounding us.

“When do you miss them the most?” I asked.

She danced her fingers on her cup. Faintly smiled, brushed a wisp of hair behind her ear—looking nothing like my mother for once.

“When I lie in bed and think of how she used to sing me to sleep and I just—” her voice trailed off but she went on relentlessly “I just can't remember the sound of her voice anymore” her eyes were red “That's when I miss them the most”

“Our answers should've been all the time” I said looking at her, seeing her break with my bound hands “I was afraid of this all along”

“Of what?” her tear stained voice subsided with a sniff.

“In the midst of pain the biggest torture is the lessening of the agony”

“Who said that?” she frowned. I chuckled a bit.

“I did”

With a smile she leaned back in her chair.

“Mum was right. You're centuries old. It's a miracle you’re not all grey yet”

“Oh, I'll never have a single grey hair. You'll see”

The waiter took our plates away and asked if we wanted anything else. Nothing, just the bill and a few more minutes unbothered.

“Have you looked at universities?”

The quickening of her pulse; the traitor to all that is claimed.

“Yeah, absolutely, yeah”

“Don't lie to me. It's about time to explore. I don't expect you to decide what you want to be. God knows I had no idea but I don't want you to miss out on anything that could essentially be beneficial to your future”

Maybe she was indecisive, even reluctant to apply but in my head it was already decided that she was going. I didn't give a damn where. Away. As far away from me as possible.

If I couldn't have a life she had to make up for that. I had to compensate with her. Normally I condemned the parents who tried to relive their youth through their kids, since I wasn't a parent I felt the right to push her around the way I fancied. It was for her good. Also I had youth all to myself. It won't ever go away.

“I don't want to go. I never wanted to go”

“Well you better brace yourself because you are. Don't worry about student loans I can afford all your tuition and all the other costs I—”

“I said I'm not going!”she objected, setting her cup down with shaking hands.

“I'm not going”she repeated in a measured voice.

Hushing my tone I leaned over the table.

“I will not argue about this. You must go. It's decided. Start looking. If you don't pick one I will gladly take the reins.”

“So I have no say in it? What I want to do with MY future? How is that fair?”

“Life isn't fair, love”

Sounding like my mother I couldn't not continue talking, but she was faster.

“Mum and dad would let me do whatever I want”she had the voice of a sulky toddler which worked when she was a toddler but you just wanted to slap her since she no longer theoretically needed diapers.

“It's me you're facing and I don't care. Or indulge me; have I made a single horrible choice in your life? Have I? Have I ever not let you do whatever your whim fancied?”

Pursing her lips, she crossed her arms, not averting her eyes. Defiant as always—I taught her too well.

“Do you know what you want to do with your life?”

“Yes”

“No. You clearly haven't a clue.Since that is the case I have no problem making up your mind instead of you”

Defeated she placed her fists on the table, staring at the floor, trembling. Not ashamed, just upset.

Blowing out a long breath to give off the steam I leveled my head, balanced my thoughts and made an attempt to return to rationality.

“Why?” I asked.

She glanced at me from under her lashes.

“Why are you so violently against this?”

A shake of her head but not a word.

Pawing my face with a palm I made an exasperated noise.

“Don't make me tweeze every word out of you, please. You're not ten anymore”

“You'll think I'm childish”

“Quit being presumptuous about what's going on in my head and just spit it out” I held up a hand“ I promise whatever you say, I won't laugh”

Her eyes travelled up with her chin.

“If I go away—I don't know how to say this and not to make it sound ridiculous”

I let her fidget with the sleeve of her jumper in patient silence. Some patience I had to acquire through the years. With this one I needed it like one needs water in the desert.

“Are you never afraid of forgetting them more when you're away?” Of all her fears I wasn't expecting this one.“

“I'm scared that without the house their memory is going to fade faster. Having nothing familiar to remind me of them”

I had to blink away the welling bereavement from my eyes.

“We won't forget them. Life, your life goes on nevertheless. What I know for sure is that they wouldn't want to shackle you here because they selfishly want you to remember them all the time and tend to the fire of nostalgia to make sure it doesn't fizzle out. You need a change of air. I want you to go. Besides not everyone knows what's good for them. Sometimes someone has to tell you so you'd consider and realize that, yes it is what you wanted you just couldn't word it”

“I still don't want to leave”she said stubbornly.

“Eventually you'll have to move out”

“No, I don't”

And she didn't. For five more years. Our compromise was that she would go to uni but she could stay at home. So she applied to the local university.

The joy I received by having to hold her hair while she emptied the whole of the breakfast-lunch-dinner I had forced into her into the toilet—unspeakable.When I had to face the fact that she's as much a heartbreaker as I used to be when I could walk in the light—expected.

I didn't think she knew but I was aware of every affair of hers. She always took the boys home to desecrate one of the rooms.

After the fifth time it happened I sat down in the dark kitchen, had a staring contest with the old cat and lit a cigarette. It was backwards, listening to her screams and moans. Sometimes it made me want to do horrible things to her conquests. Then again they meant no harm. Unless they got her pregnant. Then they were done with.

One time however, she started acting weirdly. Never ate, never slept. She often found me in the kitchen on her late night wanders. I used to be a terrible insomniac so she wasn't so surprised at my presence. That was when the crying started, sobbing into pillows, never smiling, cracking a joke. Something was off.

Her silence about what upset her so became unendurable. I snuck into her room and stole her phone when she plummeted into the duvet after spending the whole week basically awake.

The riddle was quickly solved. A man was involved in her sudden but general distaste for life.

Reading through all the text and all the silly conversations, flirting and sometimes lot more the situation seemed to have outlined itself.

So I investigated. I figured out where he lived, where he worked, who his friends were and most importantly—when was the only time when he was truly alone.

Familiarizing with one of his friends, I invited myself to a party, singled the not-so-alpha playboy out and after that it was child's work.

He would've been collateral damage so I didn't end him. Not right away, not in the traditional way. I just taught him a lesson. Many lessons. First and foremost that he never should ever consider f*****g with women who happen to have me as their sister.

She had others. Lots more in fact until finally she found one she brought home in broad daylight.

The poor fellow was scared the instant he saw me. To be honest I overplayed my part. I had to for the text to work. My sister couldn't be with a p***y, no one actually deserved a one, as long as I had a say in it my sister definitely didn't. Unless it was a cat we were talking about. Anyway the guy was at least intelligent enough to get the hint that she needed to schmooze me to be with her.

I overheard them.

“Why are all the curtains drawn?”

“Sis, likes them that way. She says her skin would age faster and wouldn't be so pale. I know it's bs but I'm used to it by now”

A rest of silence.

“Mallory is alright if you get to know her”

“I don't know. Will she even let me try?”

“Don't be an i***t. Why wouldn't she?”she said with such conviction it made my carthausian heart ache“ Okay she might be tense and overprotective—”

“Overprotective? She incinerated me in the doorway. With a look. Normal people don't do that as a greeting. Is she beyond handshakes and pleasantries?”

“Way beyond” I heard her smile in her voice.

“Alright. I can't say no. Fine. I will impress her knickers off her”he grinned“I have one more question ,though”

“What?”

“Isn't she a vampire of some sort? Ouch. That was a perfectly valid question”

“Oh, shut up”

He turned out to be the love of her life. He took her away.

I was halved with the knife of ambiguity. One hissed furiously in pain at its loss over its one precious, the other reclined on a sofa with the careless abandon of an overworked mother.

I felt the underwhelming dissatisfaction of newfound freedom. For so long I let her define my days I didn't know how to start redefining them with my own words. I had no idea who I was without her. Without having to care for her, tiptoe around, have a laugh or remember.

At that night the truest, fullest of silences fell, so loud I heard the walls scream in deaf pain.