she’s been in jail, I’ve gotten along just
fine.”
“Of course you have.” Her voice
pierced too high, mocking me. “Keith pays you extremely well for what you do.”
I pressed too hard on my vase, and
the side of it collapsed. I stared at its carnage, a wilted gray mound of now
shapeless, useless clay. Growing up I always felt sorry for Sasha and
downplayed to her. I hated that I no longer had to downplay. Life did that all
on its own now. When did I become the one who needed fixing? “Well what I do is
stressful.”
She twisted her mouth. “Yes, I’m sure
it is.”
I grabbed my clay and tore it up,
mashing it against the table. “I landed a new account for the hotel. The
Women’s Expo is going to start hosting their quarterly events in the main
conference room.”
“Fantastic,” she said, trying out
this new emotion where I, the one who always slid into the backseat so she
could possess the front, now pushed her aside and challenged her for the prized
shotgun position.
“Yes. I also hired a masseuse to be
on hand during peak hours to take care of stressed guests.”
“Keith never mentioned that to me.”
“He doesn’t know, yet.” I looked up
at her. Disbelief spilled into the fine lines around her eyes like she’d just
witnessed a UFO landing in the parking lot.
“Keith doesn’t like surprises.”
“Well, life is full of them. So,
maybe that husband of yours just needs to get used to them.”
She stopped molding. “Something’s
different about you. Is everything okay?”
“Oh everything is just fucking
lovely.” I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, blowing out a deep
breath.
“I don’t know how you do it,
honestly.” She pinched her clay.
My sister thrived on the idea that
Jessica wore permanent scars now. “We’re fine.”
She rolled her eyes. “She fucked up.
I don’t see it getting fine.”
I stood up, pushing against the
table. “I’m getting coffee.”
“I’ll take mine black,” she snapped.
She could be so curt.
“Fine.” I turned and plowed towards
to the old man serving it up at the pottery café.
My sister dug at every turn. She
loved holding the ace card. This made her feel good about her life, about her
husband who I doubted loved her the way she loved him, about her misbehaved
kids, and about her lonely existence. I hated that I protected this façade for
her by not challenging her on these things. After all of these years, I still
protected her by taking on her attempted manipulations.
* *
I met Ruby at her corner the
following week. I had arranged for planted trees to be brought in to form a
privacy wall. Patina art now hung on both walls of the corner. I purchased a
heavy-duty portable massage chair along with a trolley cart that carried some
scented candles and plants.
I arrived carrying a tote bag filled
with new business cards, a cell phone, and a name badge. Ruby stood behind a
man, massaging his neck. His arms dangled by his side, and his face relaxed in
the head rest. Ruby massaged his shoulders from behind, digging her hands into
his skin. I waited outside the privacy wall, peeking in on her through the
leaves. She wore an adorable prairie-style top that showed off her femininity
with grace and style. She worked the man’s shoulders with great focus,
directing each knead with purpose.
My blood flamed. What I would’ve
given to be that man in that moment.
Once the bell dinged, the man paid
her the ten dollars for the ten minute massage. Then, she strolled up to me
wearing a sassy smile that stole my breath. I didn’t recall seeing a woman more
beautiful than she in that moment. Everything about her spelled simplicity and
beauty.
“You look radiant right now,” I said.
“You’re in your element, I can see.”
“It’s only noon and I’ve already made
three hundred bucks.” She looked ready to twirl. Could she be any more
adorable?
“How many people have you massaged
today?”
“I lost count. There are so many.
fine.”
“Of course you have.” Her voice
pierced too high, mocking me. “Keith pays you extremely well for what you do.”
I pressed too hard on my vase, and
the side of it collapsed. I stared at its carnage, a wilted gray mound of now
shapeless, useless clay. Growing up I always felt sorry for Sasha and
downplayed to her. I hated that I no longer had to downplay. Life did that all
on its own now. When did I become the one who needed fixing? “Well what I do is
stressful.”
She twisted her mouth. “Yes, I’m sure
it is.”
I grabbed my clay and tore it up,
mashing it against the table. “I landed a new account for the hotel. The
Women’s Expo is going to start hosting their quarterly events in the main
conference room.”
“Fantastic,” she said, trying out
this new emotion where I, the one who always slid into the backseat so she
could possess the front, now pushed her aside and challenged her for the prized
shotgun position.
“Yes. I also hired a masseuse to be
on hand during peak hours to take care of stressed guests.”
“Keith never mentioned that to me.”
“He doesn’t know, yet.” I looked up
at her. Disbelief spilled into the fine lines around her eyes like she’d just
witnessed a UFO landing in the parking lot.
“Keith doesn’t like surprises.”
“Well, life is full of them. So,
maybe that husband of yours just needs to get used to them.”
She stopped molding. “Something’s
different about you. Is everything okay?”
“Oh everything is just fucking
lovely.” I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, blowing out a deep
breath.
“I don’t know how you do it,
honestly.” She pinched her clay.
My sister thrived on the idea that
Jessica wore permanent scars now. “We’re fine.”
She rolled her eyes. “She fucked up.
I don’t see it getting fine.”
I stood up, pushing against the
table. “I’m getting coffee.”
“I’ll take mine black,” she snapped.
She could be so curt.
“Fine.” I turned and plowed towards
to the old man serving it up at the pottery café.
My sister dug at every turn. She
loved holding the ace card. This made her feel good about her life, about her
husband who I doubted loved her the way she loved him, about her misbehaved
kids, and about her lonely existence. I hated that I protected this façade for
her by not challenging her on these things. After all of these years, I still
protected her by taking on her attempted manipulations.
* *
I met Ruby at her corner the
following week. I had arranged for planted trees to be brought in to form a
privacy wall. Patina art now hung on both walls of the corner. I purchased a
heavy-duty portable massage chair along with a trolley cart that carried some
scented candles and plants.
I arrived carrying a tote bag filled
with new business cards, a cell phone, and a name badge. Ruby stood behind a
man, massaging his neck. His arms dangled by his side, and his face relaxed in
the head rest. Ruby massaged his shoulders from behind, digging her hands into
his skin. I waited outside the privacy wall, peeking in on her through the
leaves. She wore an adorable prairie-style top that showed off her femininity
with grace and style. She worked the man’s shoulders with great focus,
directing each knead with purpose.
My blood flamed. What I would’ve
given to be that man in that moment.
Once the bell dinged, the man paid
her the ten dollars for the ten minute massage. Then, she strolled up to me
wearing a sassy smile that stole my breath. I didn’t recall seeing a woman more
beautiful than she in that moment. Everything about her spelled simplicity and
beauty.
“You look radiant right now,” I said.
“You’re in your element, I can see.”
“It’s only noon and I’ve already made
three hundred bucks.” She looked ready to twirl. Could she be any more
adorable?
“How many people have you massaged
today?”
“I lost count. There are so many.
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