Growing up as the younger sister of two identical twins was not easy. Lana and Lara were born 10 minutes apart on Christmas Eve, the symbolically perfect little gift for new parents. I, however, was born 9 years later (although incidentally only about two weeks earlier in the year), my parents' happy little accident.
My sisters were extraordinarily close growing up. Lana and Lara became essentially mirror images of each other. They both did cheer and figure skating, hung out with the same popular clique, had identical personalities, and I couldn't ever remember seeing them fight with each other. When they reached 18, they both went to the same university and then law school, roomed together for all 7 years, proceeded to get a job at the same law firm, and then rented an apartment together.
My sisters were also identical in appearance. Their faces looked like complete photocopies of each other. Their builds were the same as well. Both Lana and Lara were 5'6", about 125 pounds. They had similarly curvy bodies, with small hips, big butts and even bigger breasts. Each had wavy, dirty blonde hair coming down to just below the shoulders that they took great care to ensure was styled and cut the same.
With neither ever getting any scars or tattoos, no one could ever tell them apart. It was so bad that our parents couldn't even distinguish them. They were forced to keep their hair different colors since they were eight years old so that their school teachers could tell one from the other. Lana dyed her hair a deep red, while Lara got to keep her natural blonde color.
I was well aware that my sisters were gorgeous, and they did as well. Lana and Lara always seemed to both have various boyfriends for as long as I remember, and I knew they were considered the prettiest girls at their high school. I never was able to talk to them about boys or relationships, though. Or really anything that personal. The age gap and their closeness meant that I didn't ever really connect with either Lana or Lara in the same way that they did with each other. They only seemed to confide in themselves.
I didn't consider myself nearly as pretty as my sisters. I looked much different. I wasn't nearly as curvy, instead being much leaner. I was only 5'2" and just above 110 pounds while soaking wet. My breasts were considerably smaller as well, just above an A cup, and I had a flat butt. My straight hair was an unremarkable mouse brown, without nearly the volume of my sisters'.
As such, I always kept myself quite plain. I shied away from makeup or tight-fitting clothes, much to my parents' delight, and only had one real boyfriend before college. I will readily admit that I was very insecure about my looks. I couldn't seem to escape from under the shadow of my gorgeous, successful sisters. I didn't realize until I got to college that I was also quite beautiful, and even then it was only after getting hit on by all the frat boys more than other girls.
Now, I don't want to make myself seem like I was unloved or a loner. Being the youngest child, I was my parents' angel. And my sisters and I still loved each other, it's just that they both had a much deeper emotional bond with each other than with anyone else. However, the dynamics of our relationship were drastically changed over one holiday season.
It all started on Halloween. Every year, my parents throw a Halloween party with a bunch of friends and colleagues where everyone is forced to dress up like they're kids again. My parents take it as an occasion to justify getting drunk, as well as trying to set me up with somebody's son. I had been dressing up as Harry Potter characters for a few years in a row just to see how many of my parents' older friends would recognize me. So far, the closest anybody ever got was somebody last year thinking my Dolores Umbridge was, in fact, Jackie Kennedy.
As it seemed like they always were, my sisters were late. The party was in full swing (by my parents' music selection, I mean that literally) when I noticed Lara's car pull up. I saw her get out and start walking up to the porch. I ran to the front door and opened it just before Lara's hand hit the door, causing her to startle a little.
"Psychic, I know."
"Jesus, Alexis, you almost gave me a fucking heart attack. Next time, just let me fucking knock on the door, okay?" Lara asked, as she stepped inside, shutting the door behind her.
"Yeah, sure. How're you doing?"
"Pretty good. I was held up at work, so that's why I'm running a little late."
"Uh-huh. I'm sure. Little Red Riding Hood, I assume," I said, motioning towards her get-up.
"Yep, that's the idea. Pretty good costume, right?" She did a little twirl to display her costume. It was definitely a stereotypical "sexy" Halloween costume. The blouse was very low-cut tight, showing off Lara's big boobs, which seemed like they were nearly about to pop free. Her short skirt tapered to an end at her mid-thigh. I definitely knew all of the men would be ogling her.
"Well, it's definitely very... flashy. Just be sure you don't bend over or some of the more senior partiers might have a heart attack."
"Yeah, yeah. So let me guess. You are... the Wicked Witch of the West," Lara said with a smirk on her face.
"Oh, come on! You know damn well who I am!" I shouted. She giggled and briskly strode past me to mingle. Just as I turned back to follow her, I heard a knock on the door.
"Coming!" I opened the door, and saw a mirror image of the last entrant looking back at me.
"Oh Jesus, you guys didn't dress the same. That's cruel," I chided to Lana. The tight red hoods pulled to the top of their foreheads obscured their hair color, so the twins were no longer distinguishable.
"Hey! Don't yell at me! It was Lara's idea."
"You two can be real bitches sometimes. I have a right mind to put a name tag on each of you."
"How do you know we wouldn't just switch tags?" she smugly retorted.
"I'd glue it on to the blouse."
"Easy fix. We'd just go naked. Except for the hood." I was slightly taken aback by Lana's blunt response, and she could sense my awkwardness. "Speaking of, what do you think?" Lana asked, referring to the costume she shared with Lara.
"Yeah, yeah. Good costume. Did you expect a stagger and a gasp?"
"Well, a little more appreciation might have been nice... Gandalf," she said, the last word being delivered with a heavy dose of sarcasm and condescension.
"Come on! I'm fucking McGonagall! How did you not get it? Do you see a gigantic white beard on me? Do I look like fucking Magneto?" I was more than a little incensed, even though I knew Lana and Lara were just pushing my buttons.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Alright, I haven't gotten really drunk in a while, and tomorrow's a Sunday, so please direct me to all the alcohol because I want to get fucking smashed tonight," Lana told me.
"Lara's already hit the bar. Who's driving you back to your place?" I asked, always the more sensible of the three.
"You. Cheaper than ordering someone."
I was getting a little tired of not being 21 yet. Not only could I not drink, but I also had to be the designated driver for everyone, which meant late drives taking drunken friends or family back and trying to drag them into their houses.
"A month and a half, and I'm free. You better start finding a new slave."
"Well, tonight isn't a month and a half from now, so looks like you're shit out of luck, Alexis," Lana responded as she walked towards her other half by the alcohol station.
I sighed. Resigned to my fate, I mingled with my parents' friends for the next few hours.
By the time the clock had hit 10, most of the seniors had already gotten tipsy enough that they had to leave. A few technologically advanced ones had mastered the concept of Uber, so they stayed behind with the younger of my dad's work colleagues as well as those of my sisters' who were desperate enough to come.
By 12, everybody else had departed. With my parents already passed out, only my sisters remained to be taken care of. They both looked pretty smashed, and I had difficulty getting them out of the house and into Lana's car. Lara was propped up in the front seat, while I let Lana slump down in the back.
Halfway through the long drive from my parents' residential neighborhood to their apartment in San Francisco, they finally woke up. Lara stretched out and yawned, the stench of alcohol heavy on her breath.
"Jesus, what time is it?" she asked me.
