blood sisters
“Don’t be so mean!” she exclaimed suddenly, as if I’d just done something incredibly offensive. I laughed at her, confused. What was she saying, was I mean right now? My mind flashed back to that time I punched my brother in the face in a drunken daze on the roof of our van, and I didn’t realise that I had. He made me take a picture of his swollen lip and as I went through my photos the next morning I said “Wait, what happened to you?” when I discovered the picture of his bleeding lip on my camera. He laughed at me then, as I laughed at her now. “You did.” he said. I stopped drinking rum after that.
“She’s not being mean.” Caroline’s bubbly laughter pulled me out of my mind and back to our dusty, crummy couch. I stared mindlessly as they started arguing over whether or not I had been, Lily’s voice growing angry with frustration. “Wait wait wait,” I said, “what if tomorrow I get high and you don’t, and then if I’m mean, you’re right?”
It took her a while to process my proposition, but she agreed after a few minutes of consideration. This finally settled our dispute, and we went back to incoherent ramblings again.
A few weeks later, Lily suddenly remembered our deal. “Remember how you’re always really mean when you get high?” she started. I laughed again. I couldn’t reconcile how I felt with what she described, try as I might. I felt filled with love. I imagined her accusations stemmed from her belief that I would lie to her whenever she got paranoid about peeing her pants when she got high. She would always silently gesture to her crotch in panic, and I would know what she was asking. I’d shake my head and smile. Five minutes later, she’d point again, convinced I was trying to embarrass her. I’d laugh. She would sulk.
“Listen, let’s do the thing.” I said. Kings of Convenience filled the air of our tiny apartment, as did fluffy clouds of smoke as I tried blowing rings with my mouth. I never did learn how to do that. I was getting silly, giggling at everything Lily told me about her day. She examined my face and my words carefully, but an hour into our experiment she cracked into a smile. “You’re not mean at all, you’re like a kitten with a ball of yarn!” she laughed. I laughed too, although I didn’t quite get it. “Let me have some.” Lily grabbed the lighter and finally we were on the same level. The music filled the room like magic as we leaned back into the soft cushions.
The weight of my words
You can't feel it anymore...
”Let’s be blood sisters!” Lily exclaimed happily. I thought it was the best idea I had ever heard in my life, because that’s what I was like when I was high. I still have that scar across the palm of my hand, and I trust it to remind me of what it’s like to trust someone.
