Twisted Sister

My sister and I are great friends...now. There are times that I will call her and say, "what's going on?" because I know that there is something brewing or recently exploded. We are connected and bonded, ready to do whatever either of us need no matter the sacrifice. She's the first person I call in a crisis because I know she'll move heaven and earth to fix it, and she to me as well. It's a great, beautiful, wonderful relationship for which I'm very thankful.

There was a time when my sister despised the air that I breathed and would torture me relentlessly. She was twisted let me tell you. I'll give you just a few, brief glimpses into my sister's twistedness:

• She convinced me to eat a root, once. Straight from the ground dirt still attached. I was five and believed she would pay the $10 if I did it. Wrong!
• Our septic tank once backed up and made this really fowl smelling little sludge pond. She convinced me to walk through it for...you guessed it $10. Wrong! No money. NOTE: Do not run into the house onto the freshly polished wooden floor your mother just spent two hours polishing with feet covered in feces. It makes for one mad momma!
• When I was seven, I was washing my hair in the sink (which was a usual custom because I could avoid a bath if my hair was clean) and she drew a smiley face...on my butt cheeks..with a permanent marker! It was NOT funny (but is now). She then gave me a barbecue bristle brush to clean it off! What's worse than permanent marker on your rump? Raw skin from a metal brush exfoliating the first two dermal layers off.

It actually wasn't until she left home that we began to bond, or begin to like each other. When Sis was pregnant with Kirstie, my sister was put to bed for the last six or seven months of her term because her body was trying to abort Kirstie. I basically moved in with her and cooked her meals, did her laundry, ironed Doug's shirts, babysat her kids so she wouldn't lose the income, I was her. I did it without a moments hesitation and would do it all over again if I knew there was a need.

As kids, Sis and I were left alone the better part of a day. Mom and Dad both worked and would leave and the butt crack of dawn to get to their jobs. Sis and I would be on our own to get ourselves ready and to school. Summer's meant that we were home alone all day from us up until around 3:30 when Dad got home. Mom got home around 5:00, which became later and later as she was promoted to higher positions in the hospital. There was a couple of years where we went to baby sitter's, but...I'll just have to post about the evil baby sitter's--you won't believe it.

Sis was convinced that she was my boss and could order me to do whatever she said. For the most part I didn't resist, but every now and then I would find my back bone and stand up to her. It always resulted in physical violence and a lot of pain inflicted upon me, but I felt it was worth it to prove a point. Mom and Dad were kept oblivious to our..."ways" because we didn't want to go back to the sitter's--evil sitters.

Most of the time, however, we were able to co-habitate together. Our Summer days went something like this:

7:30: Me up and ready to begin my TV watching. Grab the gallon of milk, bowl, spoon, and Honey nut Cheerios's. Plop down on the back jack. Incidentally, this is a back jack. Ours was rust red, we had two. You could use them as you see in the photo, as a floor chair, or flip them over and lay on them, my choice. I could lay on that back jack, have my hands free to eat cereal, and watch TV--slothful bliss. My back jack was disgusting from the milk drips, sloths don't care about milk drips.

9:00: Sis up, joins the TV and cereal brigade.

11:00: Still watching TV, cereal up and lunch made. WTBS is given up because the great old sit-coms have been replaced by the movie that even siding companies would not air. It was time for our soaps anyway. ABC all the way: Ryan's Hope, All My Children (lunch happens during commercial breaks), One Life to Live, General Hospital, then the Edge of Night.

3:15: SCRAMBLE!!! Dad's home in 15 minutes and we have to look like we did something other than watch TV all day on our keesters.

Dad was a creature of habit. He pulled into the drive, picked up the paper, got the mail, came in to set his lunch pail on the counter in the kitchen, "hey kids...what did you do all day? Looks like you just got started.", sit in the recliner and read the paper to page two which is where he would fall asleep until around 5 when would get up and get dinner started. That's how it was my entire life, you could set your watch by it. Friday's were a little different because he would go by the bank and cash his check, that bought us a good twenty or thirty extra minutes.

One particular school day, Sis and I had one of our famous encounters. It was report card day and she wanted to see my report card. "No, you can't see it." "William...give me your report card, I'm your boss." "YOU ARE NOT MY BOSS AND YOU CANNOT SEE MY REPORT CARD!" I was a not so good student through grade school and intermediate, when I started a regular hygiene routine in the 7th grade, my grades improved dramatically as well. This back and forth yelling eventually led to a head lock situation. Sis had ME in the head lock. "I'm not letting you go until you admit I'm your boss!" The report card was now dead in the water because it had become a I'm your boss and going to prove it battle. "You aren't my boss, let me go!" This went on for a good five or ten minutes (I don't recommend a head lock for longer than five minutes as it gets really uncomfortable). I managed to wrestle my way into my room. That was my domain, I knew where everything was and it disgusted my sister to be in my room.

We fell on my bed, me still in the head lock her still insisting she was my boss. We were reaching the 15 minute mark with the whole head lock thing when I hit the wall-I was done. I grabbed a Bic pen from my desk and held it to her throat. "I hate you, you are the bottom of the scum barrel. If you don't' let me go I'm going to stab you. I hate you." "I hate you too, creepy little jerk. Don't ever--EVER ask me for another thing as long as you live. JERK!" With that she released me and left me to my room. I never admitted she was my boss. Dad finally got home and felt the tension, "what's going on?" "William is a jerk, a low life scum bag (they come in a barrel you know) and I hate him. We've been fighting." "He's the only brother you'll ever have, I wouldn't start hating him now." I was still in my room...feeling very, very, very remorseful that I had used such violent language and threatened my sister's life with a cheap pen. Dad went outside to smoke and tinker which left us to our selves.

I couldn't' take it. I walked out of my room just as my sister was walking down the hall. We both burst into tears and began to cry. "I don't hate you, sis. I love you. I'm sorry I threatened to kill you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." "I don't hate you either, bubba, I love you too." We cried and hugged, those arms which had just minutes before held me in a much more violent fashion had now become arms of security and comfort. I still need those hugs to this day. I still need to feel those arms around me because everything is ok when I get a hug from sis.

I've wished a thousand times that "times" were different, but the actuality of it is I wish it were all the same. If I had one minute different there's not telling how my present would have changed and I like where I am and who I am. I especially like the bond I have with my Sis. We are close and we take up for each other and forgive each other before we even have to. That's what siblings should do because we have to stick together. I'd like to think that I would stay connected with her even if our relationship was challenged beyond it's breaking point, because I love her and know that, she's the only sister I'll ever have. She's the only sister I'd ever want. Twisted, yes. Stubborn, yes. Mischievous, yes. My boss, NO WAY!