The Adventures of Sisterhood


This week, at the writer’s meeting we had a conversation about siblings.  I was pretty adamant that I would gladly leave mine in the ethereal without a second thought.  So to answer their unasked questions noticed by the marked raising of eyebrows and widening of eyes, I will explain a little bit about sisterhood.

To say my sister and I don’t get along is like saying Stalin was a bit of a jerk.

My sister wishes me dead about 90% of the time.  I know because she randomly calls and tells me so.  She also randomly calls to tell me how I ruined her life… It didn’t take much, just my birth.  She is significantly older than me and everything that is wrong with her life, is somehow my fault.  So I avoid her like she has plague and I don’t answer phone calls from numbers I don’t know… Because she’s crafty and will call me from other people’s phones to tell me how much she hates me.

When I published my first novel, my sister called not to congratulate me but to tell me how much it sucked that I had published.  To her, the publishing of a novel by me, was the worst thing that could happen to her.  In my mind, I don’t see the link between her and my publishing, but in her mind, it was evil of me and she ended the conversation by saying she “hoped I never sold a single book and that I’d die a miserable death from failure.”  So, I guess you don’t want a signed copy?

Even the little things I do are there solely to screw up her life.  When I became serious with my SO, I got a call.  I was being a bitch because I was in a relationship with a good guy that our parents liked.  As she raged on at me, I really wanted to point out the problems with her boyfriends and why our parents didn’t like them, but poking the tiger when it is out of the cage is a dangerous thing.  Eventually, I just hung up on her.

As Tolstoy said “all dysfunctional families are interesting” and mine would fall into that category.

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