See Yourself [FICTION]

“What does a fortune cookie know?” I mutter to myself as I read my fortune again. "Do you want to be a power in the world? Then be yourself."

In my twenty five years of life, being myself has only resulted in more trouble for me. Honestly, I am not sure who myself really is anymore. But did I ever really know?

I found out when I was twelve that I was adopted. That revelation made so many things clear. I always thought my parents preferred my baby sister to me. It turns out they did because she was their miracle while I was an expensive replacement for the natural child they were told they could never have. But then she arrived in all her glory and I took my place as her shadow. 

Needless to say, I don’t spend much time with my family these days. I make an appearance for Christmas Eve and wake up to open presents with everyone else. Then I wait until it feels like I am not being completely rude to take my leave. Last year was no different. I haven’t talked to any of them since. Of course, I mailed out thank you cards, but I don’t call them and they don’t call me. It works for us. Well, it works for me. Apparently, it doesn’t work for Brit.

“Hello?” I finally answer impatiently as she calls for the twentieth time this week.

“Sarah, I was about to call the police to check on you.” She laughs.

I don’t. “What do you want, Brit?”

“To talk to my sister.”

“Why?” I sigh in exasperation.

“Because I miss you.”

I don’t dare repeat it, but I know the same question applies. “Do you need something?”

“Seriously, I want to see you.”

Used to her persistence, I know I should agree, but I just can’t. “I’m really busy, Brit.”

“Yes. I know.” Her voice implies disbelief. “All that jet setting you do for your data entry job makes you hard to pin down, but I am flexible. When are you available? There is a quaint little coffee shop a block from your apartment.”

I glance at my wall calendar. The only entry on it reminds me that I have a dentist appointment in two weeks.

“I guess I could make some time now.”

“Right now?” She almost squeals with excitement.

“I suppose so. Does that work for you?”

“Yes. I am outside. See you in a minute.”

“Alright.” I forgot how well she knows me.

I check to make sure I am somewhat presentable and opt for a fresh shirt. After bounding down the stairs, I find my sister waiting for me. She either felt I was worth dressing up for or I was just one stop on the agenda for this evening. She throws her arms around me and buries her face in my hair. Suddenly, we are children again and I am holding her as we work out way through one of the millions of traumas of childhood. When we finally let go of each other, she takes my hand.

“I’m glad you were available tonight. It was too cold to stand out there for nothing.”

“So I am worth standing in the cold for?” I force a laugh but hold my breath as I await her response.

“Of course you are. I miss you. I miss how close we were when we were little.”

I stare at her unable to formulate a response that isn’t bitter and accusatory.

She puts a hand on each of my shoulders and turns me toward her. “I have always been glad you were my sister. Having you by my side always made me feel safe because I knew you loved me. I’m sorry mom and dad started acting weird after they told you that you were adopted. You were always my real sister. No matter what. So stop pushing me away.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You ran out before I could give you your present.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I opened your gift.”

“You opened the gift I wanted our parents to see you open. I had something else to give you, but you snuck our before I could get a moment alone with you.”

“Mom and Dad don’t like to share you.”

“True.”

“So what did you get me.”

“It’s been almost a month. You can wait until we have some hot cocoa and muffins.”

“I’ll try.” I nudge her gently.

She grabs my arm and hugs it tight. “I’ll make it worth your time to wait that long.”

She launches into a travelogue of her last week, deflecting any attempts at questions until we step into the coffee shop. “You still like whipped cream and cinnamon on your hot cocoa.”

“Of course.”

“I will surprise you with a muffin. Find us a table, will you? I love high tops.” She glances at two young men who are packing their things into messenger bags as they animatedly chatter on with each other.

I swoop in as they finish packing up and claim the table. Luckily, a barista wanders by and cleans up their empties, claiming a few coins the boys had plunked down after an argument over whether a tip was warranted. They didn’t seem to question the decency of cleaning up after themselves as suggested by many signs posted around the room.

“Thank you.” I mumble as the girl finishes wiping down the table.

“No problem. Enjoy your day.” She smiles sweetly and wanders off.

“Look what I found.” Brit deposits three giant muffins and two steaming cups on the table.

I pluck a chocolate muffin with chocolate chips and slivered almonds from the table and peel off the wrapper. “My favorite.”

“Some things never change.”

She chooses a raspberry muffin with a drizzle of chocolate on top and takes a large bite. As she chews slowly and then washes it down with some hot chocolate, my eyes stray to the bag Brit has set on the floor between us.

“I’m surprised you waited this long.”

“What?”

“You want to know what I got you?”

“I already told you that.” I lifted my muffin to my mouth, giving myself an excuse not to answer any more questions.

“Let me finish my muffin, and you can open it.”

Despite the mouthful of chocolate, I still can’t help but protest, “Oh, come on.”

She grins at me and takes another slow nibble off her muffin. I frown and take another bite of my own muffin. We continue our slow muffin eating battle until only the spare muffin remains. Brit reaches for it, but I get a hand on it first.

“Nope. We can split this after I see my gift. You dragged me away from some very important plans tonight, after all.”

“Important plans in your pajamas?” Brit laughs as she reaches into the bag and pulls out a wrapped package.

As I peel off the layer of wrapping paper, she clasps her hands together tightly. Inside, I find a photo album labelled “True Sisters”. Each page includes a picture of us together and her handwritten memory of the event depicted.

“Where did you find all of these?”

“I kept them. I didn’t want to give them to you in front of mom and dad, because…well, you know how they are.”

“I do.” I flip through a couple more pages, landing on a page where I am cradling Brit in my arms. 

She places her hand on mine. “You were always there for me. I wish I had been there for you, too. I wish I had reminded you that you belong. My childhood was wonderful because I had the best big sister ever and she didn’t know it.”

And then she is in my arms again. This time she cradles me. The little sister finally being the protector. When we finally pull ourselves apart, she scoots her chair closer to mine, so we can lean into each other as we look at the pictures. In that moment, I finally see what she has always seen. No circumstance of birth should have alienated me from my sister. I guess the trick is to not let anyone else determine who you are, though it is always nice to know they see you in a positive light.

~~Chinese New Year is coming up in a few days. I have never celebrated, but I hope this is a fun reminder for those who do. The traditions I know of sound pretty awesome and I do love Chinese food with the right people, so maybe I will get up the energy for sincere celebration one of these years.~~