Short Memoir 3

I never knew how I was going to react to my sister’s blatant lies regarding her marijuana use in high school. We were close, we had to be, we were twins; but at the same time we hid the important things from one another. I would resolve not to be mean; I didn’t know what it was like and I certainly couldn’t understand what she was going through, but as soon as a situation came up, my resolution would dissolve and I became choppy and rude. I didn’t want to hurt her, but it was the only thing I knew how to do
*****
The music is playing a little too loudly as we pull up to the chapel building. My sister parks on the far side of the parking lot, the side against the trees. It’s still very dark out and I can’t see her face as she shuts off the car and leans forward.
"I feel sick" she says.
"No you don’t." I say, irritated. I’ve heard this all before. Almost every morning this whole entire month. Our younger sister has started getting out of the car. My response is adamant in showing that I do not approve, in making it difficult for her, in making her feel bad. I want her to feel bad. I want her to know that I know. To know that I am not stupid.
"I know you’re not sick" I say. She hangs her head lower towards the steering wheel as if folding her stomach up; and in the dark she really does seem to be sick. Right, sick. Not. I grab my purse and get out of the passenger’s seat. I hear her door open and hear her moving slowly on the other side of the car. Reluctantly getting out, faking acceptance, pretending to come with me. I hear her gag herself and I hear the unfriendly sound of bile sloshing against the blacktop.

"Whatever" I dismiss and I walk across the cold parking lot into the church building alone.
She comes into class about 20 minutes later; calmer, nicer, and happier, but jittery and red eyed. She reeks of Clementine lotion. I hate that lotion. No one minds that she’s late, no one ever minds, but me. Our teacher nods, everyone smiles. She’s so funny. So much personality. That girl is crazy. Man, I love her.
I am silent, I look down and I doodle in the margin of my scripture journal. Well I loved her too and I just didn’t know what to do.