Warning: mentions of domestic violence.
Tegan
Anxiety gushes inside my entire system as I talk to the landlord of the house. He wants to rent, I want to buy. I know I can't find a better house than this. It looks a lot like the one we had in New York. It's not big, it's cozy, but it's spacious enough to give Sara and Sally a lot of comfort. It has two stories and a wooden staircase. If somebody stands on the second floor, they can still see what's going on downstairs through the railing, which might be a bit dangerous considering Sally is an infant. I know Sara would love the mahogany interior and how the two floors are exposed to each other. From my place downstairs, I can see there are two bedrooms and two bathrooms upstairs. That's what the four doors hide inside. In my place downstairs is the living and dining room, which is quite spacious. There's a room that leads to the kitchen, too. And then there's the basement where the garage is supposed to be. I know that this is Sara's ideal house, she has told me about it before.
"I'll offer more," I say, continuing my negotiations with the landlord. "I want this place and I'm ready to pay more than it costs."
"I'm afraid that's a bit hard to negotiate," he says. "I told you it's my parents' place and I'm just here to rent it for them. They don't live here."
"Can I at least talk to them?"
"I can give you their number but I know it won't work." I sigh, taking a look at the house, waiting for Sara to arrive. If Sara likes it, I have to do everything just to get it. If she doesn't, I'll pass. The problem is that I know she'll like it. I know her taste very well to know she'll be infatuated.
Few minutes later, when she's finally here, I can see on her facial features that she is in awe. She tries to play cold, however.
"I told you I don't need a house, let alone something this huge," she says. "You insist on getting me something, get me a small apartment."
"And I told you it would be my house, I'll just let you live in it," I say. "I like this one and I just want your opinion because you'll live in it till you can get your own."
"Where are you going to live?" she asks.
"Don't worry about me," I answer. "I can live wherever I like. Worry about your kid, Sara." She nods, pondering the idea inside her head.
I look at the gleam in her eyes as she inspects the rooms carefully. I tread behind her as she enters each room, touches the walls and the wood. I know she loves the place, I can see it through that sparkle dancing in her irises.
"How much?" she asks in a soft whisper.
"Umm," I open my mouth but my nerves stop me. If I tell her it's for rent, she'll try to get the idea out of my head; if I tell her how much I'm willing to pay, she won't let me buy it; if I lie and make up a fake number, one day she'll know that I lied, she would kill me.
"How much?" she repeats, unrelentingly assertive. It's a Sara I haven't seen before.
"It's for rent, Sara," I admit. "I'm trying to buy it but the landlord wants to rent it."
She rolls her eyes, walking downstairs. I follow like a puppy.
"Find another place," she says sternly. "I have to go. Sally has been with Emy since this morning."
"Oh, why?" I ask. "Where were you?"
She turns around, sighing. She puts on her sunglasses and folds her arms together. "Out," she answers.
"Oh." Is that the same Sara I know? Is she always going to be cold and mean towards me? Where did she get this confidence from, anyway? She doesn't even stutter anymore. How did it happen all of a sudden? I only left for a month. "Wh…where?"
"Is that any of your business?" She's not even afraid of hurting me and my feelings.
"No, I…" Now I'm the stuttering fool. "No, no, I'm sorry." Yesterday, when I called, she was out with her boss. She didn't even come see the place, we arranged for her to show up today. She was out today as well. And I have a feeling she was with the same woman from yesterday.
I try to get the number of the owners of this house. I sit on the wooden floor trying to reach them, crossing my fingers. I'm a businesswoman; I have to make up a lie. I have to get what I want.
The man, whom I assume is the father, appears on the phone, a very old man with a voice roughened by age. I try my best to be friendly but also serious and professional. I do everything my father has taught me. I tell him about my offer and why I need this house but he's relentless and stubborn.
"This house is my income," he says.
"But I'm offering more, sir," I try. "With the money I'm offering you can get another house and rent it."
"No," he says with a cough. "It has a sentimental value."
"I understand that." My patience is running, my hope is decreasing. "But it's sentimental to me, too."
He laughs. "How is it?" He laughs again. "You haven't lived in it."
"It reminds me of parents' house when I was young." I have to play it right. I have to win this argument. "I don't want to buy it for me; I want to get it for my sister. She has been through a lot. She's been through an incident that left her traumatized. Now she's a single mother with an infant. A three months old baby. When I saw the house, I remembered the house we lived in when we were young. When she saw it, she started crying. She wants the house. She wants to live in it. She can't afford a small apartment and I want to help her. Please allow me to make my sister happy." With all the bullshit I spew out of my mouth, I'm sure hell's gates are wide open for me at the moment.
"There are tons of other houses like that." He doesn't even want to give me a chance.
"But she saw this one and I just want to make her happy." I'm losing. "I'll do anything. Just let me buy it. I'll do whatever you want."
He laughs. "Anything?"
"Mhm." Fuck. "Anything." Fuck.
"Why would an old man ask anything of someone as young as you are?" He laughs again. "How did you find the house?"
"Online."
"Didn't it say it's for rent?"
"It said it's for sale."
"Mhm." He pauses for a long while. I wait impatiently.
"When I contacted your son, he said it's for rent and there has been a mistake on the website."
"How much are you willing to pay?"
Relief sets in as soon as he tries to negotiate. The huge problem is that the amount of money I have can barely cover the original cost, which means I'll have to ask my dad for money, again. I know he'll help. He has never said no to me, but lately he's been on the fence about any decision I make and I don't blame him.
But I want this house. It's beautiful and I want my daughter to live in a comfortable house close to my job, close to her mother's work, close to everything she might need growing up.
Later, I get back to Emy's place. Sara's still there, laughing with a red hue tinting her cheeks. I look at both, her and Emy, and then at the babies in their chairs next to each other.
"Tegan, they held hands. We took a picture. Look!" Emy says, walking up to me with Sara's phone in her hand. The picture is of the babies' tiny hands clutched together. It's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. "Sally was moving her hands all around and, then, guess who wanted to imitate? My Pearl! So Sally's hand touched hers and held it. It was so fucking cute, we screamed."
"Wow." I look at the babies placed in front of the TV screen. Sara is smiling from her place on the couch. I look at the phone again, but the picture is half covered by a notification from a woman named Stacy.
It was nice seeing you again today. I really enjoyed…
I look up at Sara again, trying to read her facial expressions but, for the first time ever, I'm failing. It's like she's a stranger to me.
"Somebody's texting you," I mumble, walking out of the room. I step in the kitchen, searching for a glass of water. My mind is buzzing. Plates, pots, pans. No glasses. Oh, right, I'm not looking in the right places. God, what's going on with me? I'm getting the house. I'm doing everything. What's going on with me?
I'm losing it.
I walk out to the living room again. Sara is texting that woman. Emy is checking up on her daughter. Sally is drooling in her chair. I pick her up. Nobody notices. I walk to my bedroom. I close the door and begin feeding Sally.
I slowly relax to the soft sound of the music I play on my telephone. I hum gently as tears fall from my eyes. Sally's falling asleep and my heart is finally at ease. I'm back to my sudden outbursts but now I can control them. I am in control. It's something I haven't done before. I have never quieted myself down. I have never poured water on my own fire. I have never blown gentle air on my heated chest. I have never calmed down my anger, shut it off, killed it with kind whispers. I always needed Sara to do it. But I just did it and I don't know what the secret recipe is but I think Sally has something to do with it.
Later, Sara comes inside to take our sleeping daughter away from me. I huff softly, giving up the only comfort left for me.
"Thank you," Sara says.
"For?"
"The house."
I shake my head. "It's all my fault. I'm trying to fix it."
She nods.
Say something. At least admit it's my fault. At least blame me. Is it too much to ask? Interact.
I did that to her, didn't I? I froze her. Made her indifferent.
Unless she's into somebody else right now.
The days pass and I find myself in conflict with my father. He lends me the money but he considers it a debt that I'll have to pay back within few months. The house is mine. Now I have to find a place to live at.
I start work a week after purchasing the house, which is good; it means I'll have a steady salary soon enough. Sara and I visit the house almost every day for rejuvenation. Sara doesn't share her opinion much; she thinks she doesn't deserve to since it's my house. However, she makes up for it when it comes to preparing Sally's bedroom, making me wish I hadn't asked her for ideas in the first place.
Each day, when Sara and I meet up, she spends most of the time on her phone texting someone. I'm pretty sure it's Stacy, the boss. Some days she even leaves earlier, making up excuses I don't believe.
I have to admit, though, our relationship is getting a bit better. I don't try to get close, she doesn't try as well. It's much better. She's still cold towards me. It's still awkward but at least we can talk without the presence of our dark past between us. It seems like it has disappeared, hid behind old memories.
Sara even talks to my mum nowadays. When mum calls, Sara doesn't bite with her words or burn with her icy-heart. She speaks normally, even laughs, mum reports to me.
I celebrate Sally turning four months old by getting her a bib that says 'BOOBS for breakfast, lunch, and dinner…' but Sara doesn't like it.
"It's too inappropriate," she scolds.
"It's funny," I say. Her small place is full of folded clothes all over the floor. Three suitcases are open with more clothes in them. She's moving in two days. I've been spending my time at her place to help her. "And for her it's true." We tried baby food just this morning; she spat it out in Sara's face. Sara cried, thinking Sally will never consume anything other than milk. We took her to the doctor to complain. He recommended a new brand. We're going to try it tonight.
"It's not funny," she mutters. "What if somebody sees it? Like some stranger? They'll think…"
"They'll think?"
"They'll imagine me feeding her. They'll imagine my breasts."
I laugh but she doesn't join me. "Is that so bad?"
She pauses. I see the specter of her smile before it completely fades away. "It isn't but it doesn't feel right."
"Why?"
"Because I don't do that."
"It bothers you still?"
With hands on her hips, she says, "What do you think?"
I think you're beautiful standing like that with your hair getting longer, all over the place, your jeans tightly clung to your hips; your plaid shirt is half unbuttoned because you were having some 'Sally and mummy bonding time', making your cleavage visible to my hungry eyes. "I think you should be happy you don't do it," I decide to say. "Your breasts still look nice unlike mine." Unconsciously, my eyes fall on her chest, enjoying the beauty of her milky breasts. She turns beet red, turning around to button her shirt.
We both fall into an awkward silence for the next few minutes as we fold some clothes and get them in the suitcase. When I look at her, I find her looking at me. Though my heart is drumming in my chest, my mind is relaxed knowing I can still do to her what I did nine years ago when I first saw her. Soon, though, my guilt emerges, knowing it's me increasing the tension and it's wrong; it's incestuous.
She catches me off guard when she asks, "You still look at me that way?"
It's wrong. God, it's so wrong. I don't want to make another mistake. I don't want to do that at all. Yes, I do. It's wrong, but I do. It's not right, but I do.
"I'm only human," I respond. Nature won't fight me because it's not like I can actually ban my mind from doing that. I'm not participating in the action but my thoughts can go astray.
More silence follows. Before falling asleep, I feed Sally on Sara's bed. She has accepted the new brand of baby food, but didn't consume much. I still need to feed her. I promised I'd do it till she's six months old.
Sara, once again, is texting that person. She's smiling at her phone. I keep looking at her, but she can't see me.
Jealousy is boiling inside my system, driving me to ask her right before we fall asleep; amidst the darkness, "You're seeing someone?" I take a deep breath after, preparing myself to receive the cold answer. It doesn't come immediately. The only sound I can hear is Sally's soft snores coming from her crib next to the bed.
"I'm not," she whispers. Like I expected, short and cold. However, she continues after a moment, "Just because I have a new friend doesn't mean I'm dating her."
"That Stacy woman is your new friend?"
"Yes," she answers quickly. "And my boss."
"Is she nice?"
"She is," she answers. "Why are you jealous?"
Knowing Sara, as innocent and naïve she is as cunning and devious she can be just to get her way. I mean, I still remember that time she made me masturbate in front of her for the first time with her devilish grin and sneaky means. She wants me to admit that I still want her even though she knows it very well. She wants me to feel guilty about it. She wants me to fall under the spell and commit a sin I should not even think about doing.
I'll give her the truth but I'll not give her what she wants.
"I'm not jealous, I just…"
"Yes, you are," she cuts me off. "I don't blame you. I'd be jealous if I saw you with somebody else, too." She shifts her body away; farther and farther away that I think for a second she's going to fall off the mattress. "The wound is still fresh," she continues. "It always will be," she mutters.
I fall into a long silence. I can't say anything to that. For a long time, I think about us and how we'll end up. The wound is still fresh and it will always be. It means Sara will never get over what has happened no matter how strong she appears to be.
"I said I'll always love you," I whisper to myself amidst the dark silence of the room. "I promise I won't date anyone ever. I'll always belong to you."
"Don't promise," she scolds, taking me off guard. I thought she slept already. "People always break their promises."
"I never dated anyone before you and I won't date anyone after you." Why am I trying so hard to prove I'll forever be faithful to her? I'm the one who kicked her out of my life.
"If you can't be with me what's the point of not being with anyone? Just sleep."
Next morning we avoid each other as much as we can as we take more stuff to the new house, arranging the new furniture and ornaments here and there. Sally's with us this time. Sara thinks she should get used to the new place so she can be comfortable, which will help her sleep well at night. We put her in her baby chair downstairs. We keep checking on her through the railing upstairs.
Later, I leave Sara and Sally to get dinner for the two of us since we're going to spend all day long in the house. When I return, I find Sara on the floor, lying there on the brown wood as if she is in some type of an early 2000's music video. Her hair resting all around despite how dirty the floor is. Her phone next to her ears and her smile as wide as it can get. Her hand on her stomach and her eyes are glowing. Once she sees me, she jumps up.
I examine her hesitant features as she sits up, mumbling a quick goodbye to the not so mysterious person on the other end of the phone. I don't say anything. I just give her a long look which she responds to with obvious guilt emitting from her flushed face. I pick up Sally and sit on the new couch. Purposefully, I kiss Sally's forehead, making sure her mother can see this. She's still sitting there, astounded, as if caught in a corrupt act.
Was Sara ever mine?
The question lingers inside my head as we drive back home. I decide not to spend the night there because I want to cry and I don't want her to see me. I don't feel like hurting her, I feel like hurting myself this time.
Emy has come back to the other bedroom now. More problems with Amber.
"She kicked me out of the room," Emy says casually. "Says I'm too mean and whiny and this is getting torturous; one day we're good and ten others we want to kill one another."
"What about Pearl?"
"She's gonna die soon, anyway." The way she says it is emotionless, indifferent, and cruel. I look down at the small, helpless baby and start crying. "Don't cry," she whispers, tears in her eyes. "It's better for her."
I take her daughter away from her and hold her close to my chest. I close my eyes and let my tears out.
"It's Sara, isn't it?" I nod. "What did she do?"
"She's seeing someone else."
"Stacy," she says.
"You know?"
Emy chuckles. "The woman asked her out the other day." I look at my friend and cry more. "Sara denies it, says she's not ready to be with someone but I can see that she's more than ready."
"Yesterday she said she can't ever be with someone because the wound will always be fresh."
"And?"
"I'm losing her."
"You lost her when you kicked her out of your life." You don't have to remind me of that. "You can't expect her to stay chasing you back, Tegan. That's not how it works."
"I didn't kick her out of my life. I just don't want to be in an incestuous relationship."
"Back to the same old point." She huffs irritably. "Does it even matter? You already fucked her like a thousand times and she did it to you, too. You still love her. Technically, you are mentally in it." She takes the baby away from me. The baby starts shrieking. "Or do you just want her to be attached to you her entire life? Unable to live or breathe unless you're around?"
"Shut the fuck up," I yell at her, my hands up in the air.
She holds them, squeezing my wrist, hurting me. "What are you gonna do? Hit me? Looks like you haven't changed."
"I…" I thought I was getting better.
I am getting better.
"Leave," she says.
No, I am getting better. I don't hit. I wasn't going to hit her. She hurt me with her words. I wasn't going to hit her. No. I wasn't.
"Leave," she says again. "Get out of my place."
"What?"
"Get out."
I wasn't going to hit her. NO. NO. NO.
I leave.
I'm at Sara's doorstep. I knock, she opens.
"I wasn't going to hit her," I break down at her door step.
"What the fuck, Tegan?" Sara says groggily, rubbing her eyes. "Sally's asleep," she whispers. "What happened?"
I tell her what happened, in details. She doesn't care and doesn't believe me.
"Get some sleep," she says dryly. "If she woke up, you're taking care of her. I just got her to sleep an hour ago." She turns around, not facing me.
"I wasn't going to hit her," I whisper.
"Okay," she says.
In the following days, Sara insists I go to therapy, and I do. With each visit, I leave more depressed, more angry, more irritated.
I tell my mother about it on the phone. My mother tells Sara about it. Sara tells Emy about it. Emy tells me about it. I tell Sara about it again, Sara tells me not to go if it's making me that upset. All of this happens in a span of a week.
I find a small apartment in the same street Sara's living in now. She has just moved recently. From my window, I can see who parks outside her house, who visits Sara, and who leaves Sara's place. When I'm not at work, I watch. Nobody comes nor goes. Emy comes once with her daughter, but I'm welcomed to go there anyway. Sara calls. When she does, she stands outside, looking directly at my window, knowing too well I'm watching like a fucking creep.
Emy has filed for divorce.
"It's gonna take awhile because of Pearl."
"What are you gonna do now?" Sara asks, feeding Sally. She hates her mashed alien-looking food, but Sara has a way to force it into her mouth similar to that way she forced herself inside my heart, ruined my entire life. "Where are you gonna stay? Work?"
"Still staying in that room till I can…you know, find another job, do something about it."
I want to offer for her to live with me, then I remember that Emy would accuse me of violence whether it's true or not so I decide to keep my mouth shut.
Then the phone rings and Sara disappears upstairs for more than half an hour, forgetting both Emy and me staring at each other, exchanging knowing looks. Sara isn't ours anymore and none of us can take it well.
Then I realize that Sara was never fully mine; she was Emy's, too. We both shared her. Now we both lost her. It's because of me.
She apologizes when she comes back. She says it's something that has to do with work; we all know it's a lie. Sara is starting work in three weeks.
During the following week, Sara asks me to babysit Sally every day at night because she has a training workshop, which I later discover is a lie when one day she doesn't ask me to come over to stay with Sally. I watch her through the window, waiting for the phone call. It never comes. I call her instead; I ask what she's doing. She says she's doing nothing. I ask her why she's not in the workshop; she says she doesn't have a session that evening. I wait for her to invite me over, but she doesn't.
I ask about Sally, she says Sally's alright. I ask if Sally needs any milk, she says that what I have pumped the previous night is more than enough; she's getting used to baby food anyway. But I want to see Sally. I miss Sally. I'm getting attached to her. Getting closer to her makes me feel better. Spending each day with her makes me feel like I'm not missing on anything.
I keep coming and going, looking at her windows; the lights are on. I wait for her to ask me to go over but she never does. I prepare dinner and popcorn to have a night alone, but while walking around, I see it. I see a huge black Mitsubishi pull over. Sara and Sally, dressed in a new maroon overall and a hat, leave the house. She gets inside. She hugs the woman. I try to look at her face, but I can only see dark hair. The car drives away.
I try not to get bothered; I try to remind myself that it's okay. Sara isn't mine, I'm not hers. We are sisters. I try my best but I end up crying, watching the window until that car arrives back more than three hours later. Sara gives the woman a hug again, they chat for a bit and then Sara gets out. Sally is wrapped up in her sling.
I go sleep then, but I wake up later, chocked up and crying. I call Sara. She picks up immediately.
"What's wrong, Tegan?" Her voice is normal. She wasn't sleeping. She hasn't slept. It's two in the morning.
"I can't sleep," I say, sniffling.
"Neither can Sally." She sighs.
"My breasts are so sore." I cry more, but that's not why I'm crying.
"Want to breastfeed her?" she asks hesitantly, I can feel it as she wavers on her words.
"Yeah." I sniffle.
"Want to come over?"
"Yeah," I whisper, already getting up.
It's cold at night when I leave my apartment, even though it's very hot in the morning nowadays.
Sara opens the door for me and we walk up the stairs towards her room. Sally is very active, moving her hand all around as the mobile plays a jingle over her head.
"Your eyes look horrible," Sara comments. I have already pulled up my black T-shirt and put Sally against my breast. "Have you cried a lot?"
"Mhm." She shouldn't know why I cried. "Are they that sore?"
"Yeah," I mumble, looking down at Sally.
"Why didn't you use the pump? What are you gonna do when you stop? Not much left."
"I don't know," I answer loudly. She backs away. "Sorry."
"You don't wanna stop?"
"No, I want to." I just don't want to be neglected. "I'm just getting…" I cry more.
"Getting?"
"Way too attached to her."
"Tegan, you live across the street and you see her every day."
"I know." I wipe my tears and shut up.
"Just out of curiosity, when you pumped for her yesterday, how much caffeine did you have in your system?"
I squint, trying to remember the previous day.
"Because she didn't sleep all day and she's very hyper and irritable as well."
"A lot I think." I sigh. When I work, I need coffee.
"Today, too?" I nod.
"Great." She sighs.
Eventually, Sally falls asleep. We take advantage of the moment and sleep on the same bed as well. Sara doesn't wake me up in the morning. I wake up on my own and find her in the kitchen making breakfast while on the phone with Rob. They're talking about music, as usual.
She lets me spend my Saturday in her place, which is weird; I thought she would have made plans with the woman. She doesn't mention her nor mention the previous night. I don't bring it up, as well.
While she cleans, I spend time with Sally. I cover my eyes and then reveal them, which makes her giggle as if nothing is funnier than this.
Afterwards, Sara says she's going to shower. Her phone rings while she's in the bathroom. I only notice because she has left it on the coffee table and I'm sitting on the couch downstairs. I try not to get bothered by the ringtone until I see the caller ID.
It's her.
I pick up.
"Hello?" My voice is shaky, I know it.
"Hi," a happy tone greets. "Uh…is this…"
I cut her off, "Sara's in the shower. That's her sister." Feels so hard to say it out loud.
"Oh, uh, Tegan, right?" She has told her about me?
"Yeah. And you are?"
"Stacy Reader," she says. "Sara hasn't mentioned me?"
"No," I say quickly, rudely, enjoying the release of the sudden 'Oh' that erupts from her lips. "What should I tell her?"
"Uh…n…nothing, I'll call her later."
"Okay."
When Sara leaves the bathroom, I say, "Your girlfriend called."
"My girlfriend?" Sara asks, eyebrows furrowed, hair wet and short.
"Yeah, Stacy."
She blushes. "She's not my girlfriend," Sara says. "I told you that."
"Well, she called."
"What did she say?" She's biting her lower lip, stuttering. She's nervous.
"Nothing. She said she'll call later."
"Mhm."
Sara calls Stacy later. They spend more than an hour chatting. I know it because Sara disappears in her bedroom for an hour while I spend time with Sally. When she leaves she's not as relaxed as the morning.
"Can I ask a favor of you?" she says.
"Yeah?"
"Can you babysit Sally tomorrow morning?"
"Yeah, I can," I say. "Why?"
"I have a meeting." She could have told me it's none of my business; I would have still done it. But I know Sara, she can't always be cold. She has a soft heart and a weak personality. She can't control people. People control her.
She's also a terrible liar.
"It's Sunday, Sara," I say. "Nobody has meetings on Sundays."
She knows I can see through her lie, so I smirk, shaking my head.
"You have a date," I say, looking down at my lap.
"I don't," she says defensively.
"It's all my fault," I say, getting up. "I have to go."
Before I close the door, she shouts, "If you know it's all your fault, why can't you change it?"
I turn around to look at her. "Because you're my sister and that would be called incest. Get over it, already."
I don't make sense at this moment. I know that. But at least now I know she still loves me.
I slam the door and leave for the night. I spend the rest of it in my bedroom, on my bed, with the cat.
Early in the morning, I hear the knocks on my door waking me up. I step out into the corridor and walk up to the door with a yawn. I open it. Sara's standing there with Sally in cute yellow shorts and a white sleeveless shirt. It must be very hot outside because I can see the rash spreading on the baby's neck and I can feel a similar one all over my chest.
"It's nine," I say. "Why so early?"
"I told you," she says, "I have a stupid meeting."
"With who?" I yell, taking a hold of Sally, who starts whimpering immediately. "Who the hell suggests work on Sunday?"
"My boss, okay?" she huffs. "And no, it's not a date. Everyone will be there."
"That's why you're in your best suit?" I inspect her attire; she has worn this black suit only once before: when I insisted she should try it a year ago. It was too tight on her then. She felt depressed. She didn't want to get it because it didn't fit her well. I thought it's motivation for her to lose weight. I bought it for her.
"Yeah, that's why," she says, cheeks red. Now the suit fits her perfectly. Now I wish I can undress her the way I imagined when she was trying it on. "Snowball has a rash so don't forget the ointment in her bag. Every three hours, okay?"
She leans down to give Sally a kiss on the forehead.
"Just in case I'm a bit late."
"Why did you bring her here, though?"
"You didn't pick up the phone and I was in a hurry."
"Okay." I sigh, taking the bag from her. "Have fun," I say sarcastically.
She nods and leaves.
I stare out of the window. The same car is waiting for her outside her house. She crosses the road and hugs the woman inside. Right now I can see her face better because her hair is up in a bun, but she's wearing sunglasses so I can't see her eyes.
"So, Sally, it's you and me, little girl." Even though she's actually my own daughter, it's still awkward when it's only us around, especially at my place. She hates it, she always cries when she's here. Sara thinks it's because she's not used to it, needs awhile to adjust. I just think she hates everything that has to do with me, except my boobs.
"You had your breakfast?" Of course I get no answer other than the big wide eyes staring at me in wonder. "Slept well, at least?" She sneezes. "I'll take that as a yes." I sigh, walking to the kitchen with her in my arms. "I didn't have breakfast yet. I really need some coffee because I didn't sleep well either." Sally starts to drool, making a strange sound with her mouth. I hold her up close to my face to take a look at her as I stand against the stove. "What are you trying to say?" Her grin is wide as I hear some gurgling sound that makes me laugh. "Yeah, makes a lot of sense." Her hands are moving frantically in random motions till she hits my face with one. "Ouch, bad girl." I put her against my shoulder but I get more kicking from her feet. "Sally," I say in a warning octave. "Stop kicking my boobs."
I crack an egg and put it in the pan. Sally's still fussing in my arms. I add some salt and hold tightly onto her. I should probably wrap her up in a sling or something. It seems that she wants to break free from me. I sniff my armpits, thinking it's the reason why. I smell okay. So probably not. Maybe she just wants to be put down but I don't have her baby chair. Sara's an idiot; she should have brought it here.
"Your mother's stupid," I say, turning around.
I gasp.
"That's what's keeping you fussy?" I look at the evil cat hiding behind the kitchen's door with its tail moving back and forth in the speed of the light. "Cyndi," I call. "Stupid cat," I mumble. "Cyndi," I call again. Cyndi makes itself visible, running up to me. Sally starts to move crazily, not wanting to stay in my arms. "Hey, hey, calm down." I sit on a chair and put Sally on my lap, but her movement is making me lose my balance. "Sally, she won't hurt you." I laugh as Cyndi tries to climb up my lap. Now the stupid cat is jealous. "Are you afraid of cats?" Her facial expression, though, shows the exact opposite. Then I realize that she's moving frantically just to get to touch the damn cat and the cat is as excited to see the baby.
I walk to the living room so I can put Sally on the carpeted floor. There she can play with Cyndi and I can consume my breakfast in peace. I put Sally on her tummy and sit next to her. Cyndi roams all around us. Sally's joyous sounds and giggles ring in my ears, making me watch the show she's displaying as she tries to reach for the cat and the cat escaping from her. At one point the cat is the one patting my baby not the opposite. Cyndi rests its head on Sally's back eventually, purring in ease. But Sally's skin allergies worry me, so I push Cyndi away after I finish. I check on her skin and the redness is still there. I wonder if her skin is as itchy as mine.
Then Sally's feeding time comes so I sit on the couch and put a pillow above my lap so Sally can rest on it. But Sally keeps on getting distracted with the cat roaming all around us, trying to get the baby's attention. "Baby, I know you like this cat but you're hurting me when you keep pulling out like that." I wipe her lips as she turns her head to look at the cat. At this moment, I really despise the cat and wish it can go to hell. "Come on," I whisper, trying to get Sally to latch on but her eyes are following the strolls of the cat. This evil cat is doing it on purpose, I swear to God. "Cyndi, go away," I yell, but nobody understands. "Sally, come on." I try to move my nipple against her lips until she finally latches on and closes her eyes. Cyndi rests next to me on the couch as well.
Sara calls to check on Sally while I'm feeding her.
"Can I listen to her?" she asks.
"I'm feeding her."
"It's fine, she makes these cute sounds when you feed her."
"No," I exclaim. "You're obsessed." I roll my eyes.
"Please," she says. "I miss her."
"Come home and you'll see her."
"But, Tegan."
"No," I say. "She's being fed, don't disturb her." I look down. Her eyes are closed. "Plus, she's falling asleep."
"Will you give her a kiss for me?" Sara pleads.
"Of course," I whisper gently. I smile but nobody sees it. We hang up after.
I spend the rest of the morning alone binge-watching some cartoons while Sally sleeps in my room. Cyndi sits in my lap while I crunch on a granola bar.
Emy calls to ask why Sara isn't picking up. I fill her in. She responds with a long sarcastic 'Ohhhhhh.'
"Do you think they're sleeping together?" Emy asks. I haven't thought about it. I didn't think about it at all.
"No," I answer. "It can't be."
"You never know," Emy says. "She's literally with her, like, almost every day."
"It's too early for that," I whisper doubtfully.
"If she loves you, why would she be with somebody else?"
"Emy?" I ask irritably. "What's your point exactly?"
"Nothing, I'm just talking."
"The other day you said it's my fault. Now you're blaming her. What are you trying to prove?"
"Nothing," she whispers. "Don't yell at me."
"My God, I'm not yelling," I shout. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I wasn't yelling. Stop accusing me of things I'm not doing. You clearly have a problem with me."
"I don't." She huffs. "It's just that, I don't…want you to…like, you know be angry at me because you get cruel when you are angry."
"Stop having this mental image of me as the damn monster. I'm not like that. I worked hard to reach this point, Emy. I worked hard."
"I know," she says softly. "I'm sorry about the other day," she says. "I know you weren't going to hit me. I was just…I don't know. I'm sorry."
"It's fine."
I can always count on Emy to ruin my day, but I can also always count on Sally pooping to ruin my mattress. I just want to know one thing: how did the poop leak out to her clothes and my mattress? How can Sara tolerate this?
I'm about to faint as I'm changing her diaper, while she giggles happily as she looks at my disturbed face.
"Yeah, you're happy about that. You're very happy you shat all over my place and your clothes." I grab the pajamas Sara has packed for her in the bag and dress her after washing her up. The rash is decreasing.
Her second meal is mashed peas which she spits not only all over my couch, but all over my hand, her face, and her clothes. She despises this food that she ends up throwing a tantrum whenever I get the spoon close to her lips. What's not helping is not having her baby chair because Sara is a fucking idiot who forgot to get the most basic essentials that her daughter would need, like more clothes now that hers are dirty again.
I decide to walk to Sara's place to change for Sally once again and, maybe, get the chair. I have a spare key so it's easy for me to walk up to her place if I want to. Sara knows I have it, she thinks it's only fair since it's actually my house.
I change for Sally once again in Sara's room, but while I'm changing, I hear the door downstairs open. I listen to soft sounds of people whispering. I open the door of Sara's bedroom and listen. I hear the giggles. I hear the faint voices, the teasing tones, the bashful laughter. I hear my ex-lover's shy melodic voice as she laughs and stutters along with the raspy octave of the lady accompanying her.
"Yeah," I listen closely. "She's with my sister." Silence. More giggles. "No, stop." More giggles.
"You're adorable, you know that?"
More giggles.
"Stop it," Sara whines.
My face heats up. My body burns. My tears strangle my lids. I leave the room and stand right against the railing to watch the scene unfold in front of my eyes. The woman's hands are trying to reach my…my sister, trying to get a hold of her body as Sara writhes in her arms. Emy's right.
The woman sees me and shrieks. Sara turns around and gasps, too.
"Wh…what are you doing here?" she asks, a hand over her chest, red on her cheeks.
Fine, Sara, you want me to be as cunning as you, I will be. You won't see me cry for you. You won't. "She fucking stained her clothes…twice." I glare at the beautiful woman standing there with a flushed face and two huge blue eyes staring in fear at me. Her eyes look a lot like Emy's but she's more beautiful, more beautiful than any of us, than any person Sara has dated.
"Uh…Stacy this is my sister, Tegan. Tegan, this is uh…my friend, and my boss, uh, this is Stacy."
I nod, staring at the woman who can't get her eyes off of me. Does she know? Can she feel it?
I stare at Sara but she's giving me a strange look with her wide eyes. She keeps motioning at something, gesturing with her facial expressions. I can't pinpoint it. Then she points at her shirt. I look down and notice the huge wet spot against my right breast.
"Oh shit," I yell. "Sally puked on me." I hope she believes it. I hope she can't connect things together. "I'll go umm…change."
"Stacy, I'll be right back. Sorry about that. Make yourself comfortable," I hear Sara say as she climbs up the stairs to follow me. "Gotta check on Sally."
"Look, if this is a bad…" Stacy answers.
"No, no, sit," Sara cuts her off. Then the sound disappears as I get inside the bedroom again where I left Sally half naked. I take off my shirt and my tears run out of my eyes as I try to rummage through Sara's closet.
Sara comes in and slams the door. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" she yells.
"Shut the fuck up," I say, crying. I already broke my promise. "I need a shirt."
She opens a drawer and gives me a bra then pushes me out of the way to give me a shirt.
Her bra is small. I ask for a bigger one.
"I don't have any," she says, dressing Sally.
"My nipples are jumping out of this," I complain.
"Go home and change," she says.
"Ugh, this is annoying. Why do I leak so much? The fucking three holes."
"I told you to get nipple pads and nursing bras."
I can't listen because now I'm in heavy tears. I'm losing it, as usual.
"Why are you crying?" I shake my head, wiping my eyes. "Stop crying." Her panicking voice doesn't help.
"You know what? I promised you I'd never be with anyone else if it isn't you and I expected you to do the same. I fucking love you. I love you and I won't love anyone else."
She doesn't respond. She meets me with a blank face. No emotions. Nothing. My Sara is gone.
"Don't you love me?" I ask desperately. "Ten years Sara. It's been almost ten years. How can you just throw all that away?"
"I can't believe you're saying this," she whispers. "Do you even hear yourself right now?"
"Yes. I can hear myself."
"No, you obviously can't." She picks up whining Sally and starts rocking her. "Tegan, I'm the one who has been begging for months and I'm the one who said the same words when we found out, yet I was beaten up instead. I was deserted because it's fucking disgusting and abnormal to your humane standards. You're the last person who should preach about love when you broke this family and now because of you we're living a bigger lie. It's too late now. Way too late."
I'm shaking and I can't even describe it. I can't talk about it. I can't even begin to absorb it.
"You can't just desert me and expect me to dedicate my life to you, Tegan. I'm not going to stop living just because you decided to. You don't always get to decide. You don't get to decide anymore. You controlled my life way too much and thank you for that. Now this is my own life, something I can live without you and your power, money, and will having anything to do with. I'm taking care of our daughter and I always will because she's mine as well. I love you and always will. But, Tegan, I will never pause my life for you, because you wouldn't do that for me. You hurt me way more than you ever made me happy and now it's time I make myself happy."
She walks to the door with Sally in her arms. "Don't make a loud noise. I have a guest over." She opens the door and leaves.