The Game

“Jo…” he moans and I cry.

I cry because he is asleep.
I cry because he is mine.
I cry because I am not Jo.

“You’re beautiful,” he sighs, and I hug my pillow closer to myself, silently crying as he dreams of her.

I cry because he thinks I don’t know.
I cry because I know he would leave me for her if she told him to.
I cry because she is my sister.

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“You look like shit. Are you okay hon?” Jolene asks me as we wait for our food. “God, seriously. You look awful, maybe you should go see a doctor.”

“I’m fine,” I smile, trying to impress upon my sister that I am in fact all right. “Just haven’t been sleeping well recently.”

“Uh huh,” She raises her eyebrow at me, letting me know she doesn’t believe me.

I look at my older sister. Perfect. Perfect skin, perfect body, perfectly arched eyebrows- perfect. My sister got the best of what our parents had to offer genetically; I was left ankle-deep in the shallow end of the gene pool.

Jolene has long auburn hair that holds a perfect wave; silky smooth and not a hair would dare be out off place. Her skin tone is fair while the texture is flawless and seems to glow. Her eyes are a consistent and bright emerald green; and to top it all of, she has the body of a runway model; maybe that’s why she is one.

Me? I got stuck with a brown mass of curls that never seemed to do what I want. My skin tone was the same as my sisters, but I looked sickly-pale and washed out and I still get the occasional acne break out along my jaw line on the left side. My eyes are never as consistent or as bright as Jolene’s. Some days they are Hunter’s Green, other days they are a murky Blue-Green, but most days they were the color of dark algae. Where my sister stands tall at five foot nine, I stand short at five foot four and as for my body… Let’s just say that no matter how much time I spend at the gym, or how strictly I watch my diet, my “curves” wont go away.

I can’t compete with her.

I never could.

Jolene was always the favorite.

The favorite daughter.
The favorite student.
The favorite of my friends.

It didn’t matter that my parents had two children.
It didn’t matter that I did better than her academically, getting above perfect grades.
It didn’t matter that these people were supposed to be my friends.
And sometimes it didn’t matter that they were my boyfriends either.

I find that I tend not to matter to most people.

Except Jolene.

That’s why I don’t tell her I know about her and my boyfriends. I don’t know why she does it, but it’s not to be malicious.

My sister isn’t a bitch.
My sister isn’t a whore.
My sister isn’t mean.

But she isn’t smart either.

She doesn’t realize I know.
She doesn’t realize that it hurts me.
She doesn’t realize that she’s taken every single man I’ve ever dated.
She doesn’t realize what this one means to me.

He isn’t just my boyfriend.
He isn’t just my friend.
He isn’t just my equal.

He’s the one.

But if he left me for my sister, I wouldn’t try to stop him. It’s easy to understand why he would pick her over me.

Jolene is confident.
Jolene is beautiful.
Jolene is obedient.
Jolene is what every man desires.

It’s not her fault she was blessed, just like it’s not my fault that I am her complete opposite.

I am shy.
I am smart.
I am an avid arguer.
I am not what men want.

“You’ve lost weight,” Jo’s eyebrows scrunch up in sisterly concern. “Are you sure you’re not sick?”

“I’m sure,” I force a smile through the pain.

I’m sure of many things.

I’m sure Jolene is sleeping with my boyfriend.
I’m sure they have no idea I know.
I’m sure if I let this continue I will lose him.
I’m sure he’s the only man I will love like I do.

“Alright,” she lets it go for now. “So what prompts this lunch?”

“I wanted to…” I cough into the crook of my elbow. My chest is tight and my stomach is upset and the sound of the cough was awful. I’m sure it didn’t help my case in arguing I wasn’t sick. “Sorry.”

“S’alright,” she looks even more concerned than previously. “Is something wrong?”

I know she is referring to my health, but I answer with out clarity, “Yes.”

Now she looks scared, like a doe. She doesn’t know how lucky she is.

But it isn’t her fault.

She looks at me in earnest.

“I wanted to talk about,” I suck in a deep breath. I am going to do this; “I wanted to talk about your affair with my boyfriend.”

She looks like a deer caught in headlights. Maybe a fish because of how big her eyes are and the way her moth keeps opening and closing in shock.

“I know- I’ve known. For a while anyway,” I stare at the cold glass of water in front of me, turning it with my hands, my eyes heavy with moisture. One would think I should’ve cried myself out by now. “Jared, Nate, Brian, Joseph, Travis, Sam- all of them. I know.”

“I-”

“Please let me finish,” I didn’t look at her. “This isn’t the first time, I know. I don’t think you realize this, but you’ve taken every man away. But now, now it’s different. I love him. I truly and honestly love him with all of my being. You can have your choice of any man you want, but if this one goes… I’ll be gone, I’ll be nothing. He’s the only one for me Jolene.

“That’s why we have to talk. My happiness depends on you and whatever you decide to do,” I paused to wipe my nose. There’s no point in trying to wipe the tears. They replace themselves too quickly; “He talks about you in his sleep. Every night. Most of them did. Jolene,” I’m sure I looked like a complete disaster, “I’m begging of you. Please, don’t take my man. Not this one.”

“I-“ I looked up at her for the first time since I started my monologue and had mixed reactions at what I saw. My sister, my perfect sister, didn’t look prefect right now. She looked utterly devastated, kind of what I felt like on the inside. “I never knew…”

“I know I’m not as pretty as you. I know I’m not as successful, or confident and from what I’ve gathered, not as good in bed. I know I can’t compete with you, I stopped trying years ago. But this time… This time I want a chance at happiness.”

My sister’s face is nearly as wet as mine. She looked like someone had cancelled fashion week in Paris. She practically runs that runway- photographers and designers line up around blocks to see if she’ll model for them. Like I said, she’s successful.

I give her a sad, watery smile and silently debate with myself. Do I want to hear what she has to say? I tilt my head to the side slightly and have to double take.

How had I not noticed he was there? Sitting there in shock, at a table only a few feet away was my boyfriend. The very man I just told my sister to back off of if she wanted me to be happy. I recognized a few of his friends. I guess they were all having lunch together. Looking back at my boyfriend, I could tell he heard the entire conversation between me and my sister- his friends looked even more shocked. I guess they heard too.

We locked eyes for a few hard moments. The look in his eyes tells me he's in complete inner turmoil.

I give him the same smile I had just given to Jolene before breaking eye contact. I reach into my wallet, pull out two twenties and place it on the table to pay for my sister’s meal and my water.

Giving my sister one more smile, I get up, put my wallet back into my pocket and walk away.

I walk away because I have nothing left to say.
I walk away because I needed a break from the tension.
I walk away because I have been defeated.

Jolene has won the game. She didn’t create it; she didn’t even know she was the major competitor in it. But every time she took my friends, our parents’ attention, my boyfriend, she scored points.

Scoured my heart.

I guess my current boyfriend is the final round. I may, or may not, win this round; either way it wouldn’t matter because Jolene will still win the game. But if I win this round, if I can have him, it won’t matter and everything will be okay.

I’ll be okay.