Becka
“Really, ? Another one?”
You’d think my sister would be shaming me for drinking one beer too many, adopting too many cats, or sleeping with too many men based on that comment, but no.
“Aren’t there enough people on the planet? And you want to create another one? That’s irresponsible.”
I will not lose my shit on my sister today. I will not lose my shit on my sister today.
“I was just thinking about how great it would be if Hallie had a sister, it’s not like we’re trying or anything.” I say with a slightly defensive tone, not willing to give her more to criticize. It would be awesome for my little girl to have a sister. Maybe she’d have a better relationship with hers than I have with mine.
“Plus, aren’t you a little old to be having more kids? Aren’t you almost thirty-seven?”
Not till July, and you’re pushing forty. That does it. I don’t care if we’re blood, and I’m supposed to love her. It doesn’t mean I have to like her. And it doesn’t mean I have to put up with the hurtful shit that comes out of her mouth.
“I’m going to head out,” I say as I pull some cash out of my wallet and throw it on the table.
“Already? We just got here. I’ve only had one drink.” Miranda pouts, pushing out her bottom lip like a petulant toddler.
True, but I am already tired of your bullshit.
“Another time,” I promise, and while I want it to be an empty promise, we both know I’ll come back and deal with her venom because it’s what I’ve always done.
I don’t want to vilify my sister. She means well, but she’s tone-deaf when it comes to me. She says whatever she’s thinking, like her brain has no filter. I want to believe she doesn’t mean to hurt my feelings, but she does. A lot.
Despite the shitty childhood we both endured, she’s never fully matured emotionally, continuing to spew every thought in her brain with no regard for others. I’m convinced that most of the drama in her life was of her own making.
She’s passionate, but there are causes that matter more to her than my feelings. We’re just not close, never have been, despite how desperately I’d wanted to be. Everyone assumes we are since having a sister is supposed to be a built-in best friend.
The two of us don’t fit together the way we should. It’s like someone mixed up two puzzles: her precisely cut pieces and my slightly off-kilter ones. You keep trying to mash them together and make them fit, but all that happens is you damage both puzzles in the process. She’s not a bad person; she’s just not my person.
But also, she says a lot of shitty things because she has no clue who I am at my core. She’s never really gotten to know me, preferring to live in her little bubble. I’ve tried to get closer to her, to get to know the grown-up version of who she’s become, but it’s useless.
Maybe if you stand up to her, . You could tell her how much her words hurt you. And risk losing more family? No thanks. I’ll take my daily dose of WTF and swallow it down like the placating, people pleaser I am.
I’ve always wanted a big family since the one I was given doesn’t seem to value family the same way I do.