“I did. People gave me side looks, but I didn’t care. It felt so good, Jake. Liberating. Like I had a rock in my shoe for ten years and finally got rid of it.”
I have a hand on her ribcage, and with my thumb, I give her a gentle caress.
“I’m proud of you, Gen. I’m sure she’ll think about it twice next time she tries to use her tricks on you.”
“She was very clear about what would happen if I chose you, so I won’t see her again. Anyhow, I refuse to spend time with someone who loathes the man I love. There are too many things I’d rather do.”
I pause for a second, turning off the wireless gun. “I don’t expect you to cut all ties with your family for me. I refuse to see your parents again, but it’s your choice if you want to.”
“I don’t,” she insists, shaking her head. “I’m done with them. Family is important, but I’d much rather start over than stick with the one I have. Gerry is basically Switzerland, so I’ll still have him. And I also have you, Hana, Eli, Mulli, Belzeebub… It’s a solid support system.”
“It is. Kill’s a great bloke, too,” I say before returning to the tattoo.
“I don’t know him enough to form my own opinion, but I’m sure he is, yes.”
The room is silent for a moment, with only the buzzing of the gun and the music.
As much as I hate what happened, I can’t blame her for it. Not entirely, at least. There’s always been two of her—the adventurous and free Gen that comes out when I’m around, and the Gen her parents forced her to become. As time went by, I saw less and less of the latter, but she lay dormant within her. I guess being with her parents the other night dragged that rigid and brainwashed Gen out of the deep confines of her mind.
It’s not her fault—my aunt helped me understand that. A lifetime of indoctrination ought to fuck up someone’s mind, and I can’t expect her to break out of it in barely three months together. What matters is that she’s here now, trying to mend things and fix us.
“Can you tell me exactly what happened to your sister?” I ask, focused on a delicate part of the tattoo. A few more minutes with this color, and I’ll give it a wipe to move on to another ink.
She tenses, her eyes lost on the window to her right. When she speaks after gathering herself for a moment, her voice is unsteady but determined. “It was our seventeenth birthday. Vicky and I tried for weeks to get to celebrate with our friends. We were good with anything as long as we could have a little gathering. But our parents refused, over and over again. They argued seventeen wasn’t an important number, but we’d have a party for eighteen. So, on the day of, all we had was a cupcake each from the cook and the promise of a trip we’d get to choose.”
When she pauses, I use the break to ask, “Is everything still alright? Do you need a moment?”
She shakes her head. “No, I think I get what you meant when you said the pain could be grounding. It helps.”
After a soft graze of my thumb on her ribs, I resume tattooing, and she continues her story. “Our parents were off for an evening in the city, and my boyfriend at the time called me. He had organized a bonfire with our friends and wanted to help us break out so we could attend. I was elated, even though we’d have to be back before our parents’ return at midnight. I tried to get Vicky on board. I did everything I could to convince her to come, but she refused, arguing we’d get in trouble and have our rights revoked, as well as the birthday trip.”
Gen’s voice wavers with contained sobs as she continues. “I called her a coward. I told her she was pathetic for always trying so hard to please our parents and be the good twin. I was so angry at her for it, Jake. I wanted to celebrate with our friends like we’d tried this whole time, but it meant nothing if she couldn’t be there.”
I stop the tattooing and focus on her broken expression instead. “All she wanted was to stay home and watch The Parent Trap, like every year, but I left and snuck out through the beach.”
“Is that the movie with the twins?”
“Yes, it was our favorite. But I decided my friends were cooler than a kids’ movie, so I broke our tradition. The bonfire was nice, but it felt so empty without Vicky that I didn’t even enjoy it. When it was time to leave, my boyfriend was too drunk to drive, and I couldn’t find anyone willing to take me home. Midnight was coming, so I panicked and called my sister. I begged her to come and get me so I could be back in time and our parents would never know I misbehaved again and snuck out.”
Gen observes as I place a needle on a new gun, taking a much-deserved break from her recounting of that night. “That’s when she had the accident,” I say once I’m done.
She nods, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I waited, and waited, and waited. But she wasn’t there. Midnight came and went, and she didn’t pick up when I called. I really thought… I thought she wasn’t coming on purpose to teach me a lesson. We were close, but like any siblings, we had our petty moments. But, of course, Vicky immediately got in a car to get me.
“I still remember when the police pulled up at the bonfire. Everyone scattered around, and I knew. The moment I saw them, I knew this dreadful feeling in my gut wasn’t just the fear of repercussions. I knew something terrible had happened. They took me home without telling me anything. When we arrived, Mother and Father were on the front porch in their fancy opera clothes, talking with more police officers and looking devastated. I clung to the hope that Vicky was just injured. But they broke it to me that she died in the car. I didn’t know the specifics back then, but a few years later, Mother cruelly told me she died drowning in her own blood over several minutes.”
This time, Gen’s emotions become uncontainable, so I set everything down and rise from my stool. “Sweetheart, look at me,” I softly demand, framing her face between my gloved hands. “It was an accident. You were a kid who went to a party. The rest was out of your hands.”
“But what if—”
“No. It’s useless to dwell on the past, red. It happened, and there’s nothing you can ever do about it.Nothing. The best course of action now is to live a life your sister would be proud of.”
“I thought I didn’t deserve that.”
“If the roles were reversed, what would you want for her? If you were the one getting her at that bonfire, the one who hit that deer. What would you want her to do?”
Gen thinks about it for several seconds, her watery blue eyes avoiding my gaze as she ponders. “I’d want her to move on. I’d want her to be with Penelope and be happy. I’d want her to keep me in her heart, always, but never let the memory of me hold her back.”
“There you go, sweetheart. She wouldn’t want what you’ve been forcing on yourself for a decade.”
