eyes unimpressed, you’re stealing the conversation.

she was undecided, caught between being honest or keeping it friendly, easy. she clutched her bag tighter to her shoulder, checked her lipstick, and exited the car. there was a run in her black tights; her hair was simply pulled back in a low ponytail. flustered and stressed, she was quite inadequate. 
               she always was (in her presence).

it had been two months since they last saw each other, although she made sure they spoke regularly. sometimes it was a chore, the obligatory, weekly phone call. in those calls, she mostly just listened. her younger sister spun off stories and frustrations expecting only brief responses/agreements in the appropriate places. it wasn’t always that way, hadn’t been, but lately their conversations stiffened and squawked awkwardly on the floor before dying.

she pushed through the door of starbucks, greeted immediately with holiday commotion and the comforting smell of coffee. in line, she crossed her arms, looking around at the extraordinary blend of people. they were all jammed in here, the frazzled christmas shoppers, the whiny kids, the serious emo teenagers, the old man hogging the back corner table. she picked up her americano and snagged a table. the stress was begin to fray the ends of her outer calm. starbucks was so impersonal. turning her drink around and around, she felt a brief flash of anger at her sister’s choice of meeting place. starbucks in a shopping mall at christmas. it implied distance and brevity. she heard doors slamming already.

ten minutes late, her sister arrived. she looked flawless, put-together despite the fact that she was a senior in college and it was finals week. the older sister sighed. she had been lucky to wear matching socks during her college finals. she shook her head, dismissing it. they were different. “hi,” she said.

they made conversation, easy conversation for a full half-hour. the older sister relaxed, slightly. and then, across the table, her little sister smiled, pulling a velvet box out of her large Prada bag. she opened the box, slid a sparkling diamond on her left hand, and stretched her hand across the table, beaming. it was a dream/nightmare. “i’m marrying him,” she declared.

and the first sister stared, her liquid brown eyes darting from the ring to her sister’s face and finally to the glass window. a hundred replies were birthed in died in about twenty seconds. she kept staring. it was the absolute worst decision she could ever make. the repercussions from a marriage to him might shatter her baby sister. without thinking, she brought her hand up to her mouth, biting her nails. the younger sister leaned across the table and slapped the hand away. “well?” she demanded.

there had been such a note of irrevocability in her announcement, erasing any option left for the older sister, save a quiet “congratulations,” and a quick exit. she would refuse to be in the wedding.

(she would be in the wedding).