Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 47086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
“Fine,” she shoots right back at me, hands on hips. I half-expect Ann-Marie to stick out her tongue, like we’re second graders fighting on the playground but she whirls around instead.
“I don’t believe you anyways,” she tosses off like a queen. “You’ve always been good at hiding things. Remember those candy wrappers mom used to find under your bed? You were always so sneaky.”
While the memories cause her to smile, they twist a painful dagger in my chest. My eating habits have always been an issue, and as my sibling, Ann-Marie knows exactly what buttons to push. Back then, I ate a lot but it wasn’t healthy stuff. Ding-Dongs, Snowballs, and of course, Little Debbie chocolate cakes were my drugs. It was a problem, but then again, that was when I was fifteen. Now I still eat a lot but it’s all organic. Now it’s about fresh fruit, whole grains, and lots and lots of veggies. But Ann-Marie’s words sting anyways.
She drops her hands at her side and smirks at me derisively.
“Besides, where would a chubby stick in the mud like you be going anyways? It’s not like you ever leave this dump except to work and buy more of your precious books.”
The way she says makes it sound like a bad thing, but I enjoy my simple existence. Although, I must admit my couch isn’t the best place to meet men. Or anybody for that matter.
But fine. There’s no sense in putting up with another second of this bullshit, and finishing my meal, I throw the packet in the garbage and walk over to the sink to wash my lone fork.
Ann-Marie is still standing there with that godawful smirk and I wanna grab that long red hair and make her squeal with pain. But that’s for kids, so instead, I take a deep breath.
“Would you like some tea?” I ask, expression calm. “I’m putting some water in the kettle.”
Dismissively, she flings her glorious hair over one shoulder and marches back to her bedroom grumbling incoherently under her breath, probably to tear the place up looking for that damn dress.
Happy that the exchange is over, I fill my favorite blue tea kettle with water and turn on the ancient gas stove.
Deliberately, I thumb through my case of specialty teabags in search of a particularly calming blend. Deciding on chamomile, I place the tea bag on the counter and open the cabinet to retrieve my favorite mug.
But out of nowhere, guilt begins to nag. Oh god, it’s terrible. It’s the big sister blues, the sense of obligation that starts and won’t stop until I solve her problems. So like they’re magnetized, my feet start walking down the hall, stopping only when I’m at the doorway of Ann-Marie’s bedroom.
I’m not sure why I feel compelled to help her find the stupid dress, but I do. Chalk it up to my need to please everybody. I’ve spent my whole life trying to make sure others are happy and it’s probably not gonna change anytime soon. And standing in the doorway of her room, I see that Ann-Marie’s already made a huge mess.
She’s in the huge walk-in closet throwing things left and right, creating even more chaos in the usually messy space.
“Did you need help?” I ask from my post at the door. I’m not going to enter unless it’s absolutely necessary.
Not sparing me a glance, Ann-Marie suddenly stops and reaches for something near the back of the closet. When I see the glint of rhinestones and purple fabric in her arms, I shake my head silently to myself and turn to leave.
There’s no sense in lingering. I know there won’t be an apology for her tirade or nasty remarks. There’s never any remorse for her hotheaded actions.
She’s gotten what she was looking for and now she’ll move on as if it never happened. Until the next thing goes missing, that is. I can only imagine what it’ll be next. Maybe she’ll accuse me of stealing her favorite mini-skirt.
I can see it now.
Well, yes Ann-Marie. I was planning to use it as a scarf. It’s cold outside, I thought this would be perfect.
Yes, Ann-Marie. This is a handkerchief right? A pretty one, for blowing my nose?
Thoroughly amused by my silly musings, I begin preparing my tea, resigned again. As I’m pouring the hot water into my ceramic mug a few minutes later, my sister waltzes by in sky high heels and a purple dress that molds to her body perfectly.
She looks stunning. But what else is new?
The redhead ignores me completely, only pausing at the entrance to the apartment to fasten a string of pearls around her neck. A necklace that my grandmother specifically left to me, but my sister acts as if it’s entirely normal. What the hell? She must have gone into my room, dug through my jewelry box, and taken the pearls, knowing full well that they’re mine. And yet, she’s acting like nothing’s wrong, like all’s well in the world.