Peas are being pushed around my plate - by my own fork, actually - but not with any conscious effort. I'm staring past them, past the pasty white plate, suddenly feeling the incredible weight of my recent bouts of sleep deprivation. Getting through dinner had never felt so tiring. If my eyes are open I'm technically awake, right?
My reaction to the sudden brush of cold skin on my leg under the table proves me wrong. Holy shit, those are cold feet! I snap my head up which had been drooping further and further toward the unwanted peas and make eye contact with my sister across the table. She's fighting back a smile as she gives me a look that suggests I missed something.
Feeling a little shaken, back in the world of the conscious, I glance over to my mom who's sitting next to Elsa, staring at me expectantly. I'm helplessly clueless and turn further to see Dad beside me, serving himself more hamburger helper. He is not about to help me out of this one. "Uh, what were you saying...?" I ask my mom, "I was, uh –"
"– Inspecting the peas?" Elsa interrupts, sly as usual. That's my sister, always one to make the problem worse. "Staring holes through them doesn't make them go away." She winks one perfect little icy eye at me and I look at Mom again.
"Sorry."
"That head of yours, I swear half the time you have no idea what's going on around you, Anna," my mom says, lightly pointing her fork at me. Luckily, it doesn't seem like she's mad, so I just shrink my neck down sheepishly and take a bite of food while she continues. "We were talking about this Saturday. What you and Elsa are going to do for dinner…?"
Oh, right. My parents are going to be gone Saturday night. Another meeting for their little Jim Beam bottle collectors club. Parents, man, what are you gonna do? Well at least Elsa and I get to hang out! Although a strange twinge runs past my stomach as I recall what happened last time we 'hung out.' Things have been changing between us and it's wrong. It's so wrong. But I love it.
Remembering the question, I glance at Elsa and my mom. "I don't care. I mean, I don't know, anything's fine. We can have Totino's. Do we have some?" Totino's pizza is our thing; Els and I have them basically every time we have to do dinner on our own; either that or the pizza rolls. It's actually a wonder my mom even has to ask.
"We should have two in the freezer; I bought some last week. Does that sound okay, Elsa?" my mom asks, as if she needed to.
Elsa just grins. "Yeah, of course." I watch as she finishes off her glass of milk, licking her lips as she places the empty glass on the table. More eye contact. My cheeks flame; I can feel it. But why? Why would I blush at that? It's just my older sister doing something as normal as drinking from a glass at the dinner table. And flicking that tongue out to catch the drip-
"Uh, I need to go to the bathroom," I say, pushing myself away from the table. "I'm dull, no fun. Um done – I'm full." Jesus.
I can't escape the room quickly enough.
I don't really know how to handle this.
This whole… situation.
Elsa and I were really close when we were little… but we grew up – like people do – and siblings don't always keep that tight bond. We were lucky, actually. We never really fought and split, per se, we'd just sort of tattle on each other, annoy the shit out of each other; we basically became two different people who started not sharing everything anymore.
But we were still sort of "close" sisters.
We certainly didn't hate each other.
Things started changing when I was a freshman in high school. Elsa was a senior, and my chauffeur. We started spending a lot of time together, in the car, in school, even after school. It's like we started getting to know each other again, and it was awesome! After she graduated, she decided to stay at home and commute to one of the universities in town.
When people asked, she always said it was to save money, but in private she told me her true motive for living at home: she didn't want to lose what bond we had just been starting to restore. And that if spending a few more years under this roof would help make us closer, she was willing to give up going to an art school of her dreams.
And if she ever asked I'd say my thanks and giggle and hug her, but in private? Oh, in private I'd cry at night, so moved by her sacrifice, so grateful it hurt. She meant the world to me at that point, and I was sure she had no idea.
Elsa and I only grew closer since then. And with the help of the person who I can easily call my best friend, I made it through high school. Now I'm a freshman in college and I chose the same living situation as she did. Call me a copycat, but I wasn't about to shove her choice to be with me in her face by moving away so soon myself. So I go to another university in town, not the same, but not rivals. Kind of like the story of our lives.
Well, it would only truly be accurate if the two colleges quite recently started getting much, much friendlier than is acceptable, because… well, yeah.
So, this year, things changed. Well, things are in the process of changing. And God it's so weird.
I've started, like, staring at Elsa. She's just so… beautiful is too weak a word. She's just so marvelously exquisite. How I wish we shared more genes. (How I wish we shared no genes!) But she looks at me too! I've caught her, just like she's caught me. And then we make eye contact and you'd think it'd be over but neither of us looks away and minutes pass before one of us ends it.
Like… that's not normal. We're sisters. We don't intensely bore our eyes into each other's in longing. Or at least, we shouldn't. But we do…?
And that's been going on for at least six months. Now when we hug or cuddle, like we always have, it seems different. There's a different quality in the air. Different vibes. A good different. Well, it feels good-different. I don't think it actually is good-different.
Because I know what it is, the stuff that's in the air. And it terrifies me.
Because it's sexual tension.
And that is not what occupies the space in the air between any siblings I know.
The tension is so bad. God, it's awful. I just want it to end but when I think about how tension ends and what that would entail… good heavens, I get flustered. It's bad. I dream about it at night and wake up sweaty and aroused. I day-dream about it when I'm awake, about her, about touching her, her touching me, and it forces me to take a cold shower just to get it out of my head; to get clean; feel clean.
I'll never feel clean.
Elsa has never stopped touching me, we still cuddle and snuggle like we used to when it felt innocent. We still poke each other in the sides and stomachs and sling our arms around each other and sit so close we're overlapping and play with our hair and scratch our backs… The only thing that has changed is what the touches mean. How I feel when our skin connects, when I can feel the shape of her body pressed against mine in an embrace. The thoughts that fleet through my mind before I can push them out when we lay all over each other on the couch to settle down and read some books…
God nothing's changed, but everything has.
And the last time… when our parents were away one night last month, it was just normal. It really was. We were just hanging out together, watching a random movie. Actually, it was Lion King; this is important. Of course it's important; it's our favorite, but anyway. Anyway, we were bawling in each other's arms as Mufasa… when Scar… well you know the fucking story. It gets us every time – I hate this movie – damn feels.
And we pause it while our hearts are busy being trampled by a thousand fucking animals who don't even fucking care (sorry again, it's a sore subject) and we are literally just crying because Elsa said something about siblings, they were siblings, how could he; and I cried harder and promised that you're not siblings when there's that much hate, that much emotion, you can't have that much emotion and just be siblings, you're not siblings if there's this much love, and – oh God love? What did I just say? This wasn't about love; this wasn't about us. And she didn't even skip a beat; we hug tighter and Elsa, she tells me that we love each other too much, that she knows it and I know it, but that it doesn't even matter, love will always win, love is always better than hate, and who could hate us for our love? And it was all just so emotionally draining, we fell asleep like that, tears drying on our faces, the movie paused, the couch holding up the weight of our love, our love that's too heavy for sisters to bear.
God, Elsa. What are we going to do?
