My sister is a bitch.
Hmmm....when I say it out loud, the same thing always happens. I feel a little bad for it, but ultimately, I don't think it changes anything. It's like looking outside and seeing rain when you don't want it; talking about it doesn't change it. Difference is, Hanna doesn't want to be a bitch. Really, she could be so much more than that if she could just embrace something different. But status is all she's ever known; divide and destroy. Moments of peace...of love, or acceptance...she doesn't know what to do. Happiness for Hanna...hurts.
I learned this one night by accident. It was one of the strangest nights I've ever known, and I still can't make sense of it. It was perverse, it was passionate, and it changed how I view relationships while at the same time, changing nothing about mine with Hanna. It's like the rain again...a beautiful thing, but still depresses you.
My life was rough. I was 20 and home for summer from college. My sister was also home, and the three years she'd spent at college had made her even more sarcastic and standoffish. Her sorority life was constantly pushing her popularity to the front of her mind. It consumed her to the point that family was good enough anymore.
None of us were telling how good she looked, or how awesome her wardrobe was. None of us were begging her to fuck, either. She had a reputation for being the holy grail of sex, like that chick in Cruel Intentions. From what I heard, she liked it rough, which fit into her outlook. Everything must be a fight, life must be a struggle.
My parents had even suggested counseling, but at 22, you'd have a hard time convincing a grown woman to undergo counseling. They kind of abandoned us now and then, her attitude being unbearable. I guess they were biding their time as helpful parents, waiting until she graduated and moved out. They would go out to eat or a movie, and leave me there with her. Not totally blowing her off; I was there! Which brings me back to my previous statement: my life was rough.
I'd tried to go out with Casey that night. She was a longtime friend of mine, and over the years she had blossomed into a beautiful woman. She had long hair of auburn, with a pattern of freckles on her nose and neck. I was certain they traveled further down to her firm chest, but I'd never find out. I was stuck solidly in the friend zone, and as another of my stuttering, fumbled advances was dismissed as friendly banter, I was walking though my door at 9:30 with strong winds and black thunderclouds rolling in at my back. My parents were gone as evidenced by the missing Tahoe, which meant I got to share space with my frigid sister another night. Maybe I could just hide out in my room.
I walked in and was greeted by her sardonic smile. "Either you're a quick fuck, or you've just been dismissed again. So what shall I put my money on...hmm."
"If you got money, I suggest you buy a bolt for that trap." I snapped. In hindsight, bragging to my parents about Casey wasn't the best idea. They'd talk about anything to try and reach Hanna. And now, armed with my repeated failures, she was feeling particularly vicious tonight. I guess we were all in a bad mood.
"Touchy!" she said, obviously not hurt in the least by my crack. "I was just saying that the likelihood of your being a quick fuck is just as good as being turned down, and I want to think about my options." I wasn't in the mood, and I turned on her.
"You want options, I'd go with penicillin."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"It may just cure whatever VD you picked up from your random college fuck buddies!" I shouted. I felt unusually mean, and I decided not to hold back. A good defense, they say, is a good offense.
"I don't give a fuck what you think college life is about," I began, walking toward her." But around here, none of us give a shit how witty you are, how quick you can open your mouth, or how fine you think you are. You know what you are? An emotionally distant bitch who thinks life's a big popularity contest, and to fill your empty space, you fill your cunt with any cock that's willing!"
"You little bastard!" she shrieked, swelling to her full 5 feet, 4 inches. "You haven't got a clue about me or any other woman out there! You may not know it, but a pitiful asshole like you would give his left ball to fuck me!" She launched off the counter and came marching across the room.
"So you shut the fuck up!" She almost screamed the last two words, and punched me hard in the chest. I blinked, and grabbed her by the throat. I've long since been bigger than she is, and if she wasn't going to remember I was her brother then I'd forget it too. I closed my hand around her little neck and tightened my grip; she squeaked, and fear sprang into her eyes.
"You offering, sis? No thanks -- I ain't catchin' a case from you. But if you ever fucking hit me again, I will be happy to slap your ass around." I let her go, and she fell to the floor. Now free from my grip, the old hate came back to her eyes, and she stared up at me through angry tears. I turned and went upstairs.
I was in my room when I heard a knock on the door. Hanna came in, meekly and slowly. She'd changed into some shorts and a t-shirt, and looked like she'd been crying the twenty minutes since I'd left her in the kitchen.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"You don't know me," she answered, calmly. "I'm under a lot of pressure. I have to be tough; I have a lot of things that I'm in charge of, and people are always trying to fuck with my life, and yeah, sometimes I sleep with people to get some release, but..."
"Stop," I interrupted. "That's the problem, Hanna. You don't have to be attacking everything all the time. I mean, shit, what'd I do to you?"
She hung her head, and then looked up with a small smile. "You put gum in my hair when I was 10."
