There's No More You and I

Steam rose from the flat iron as I clamped it on my sister’s damp dark hair. I held the ends of her slightly damaged hair as I pulled the pink zebra striped iron down in a downward vertical path; giving it a slight curl in at the ends. I caressed the sizzling ends and my left eye started to twitch to the slight burn it gave the tips of my fingers; good-bye precious fingerprints, I’ll miss you! Not.

I place the flat iron on the table before grabbing a can of TRESemmé hairspray. I took a short and sharp inhale and held it as I shook the can; the liquid bubbling on the inside. I took off the cap and pressed the tip. I narrowed my eyes as soon as the spray came along, hardening and holding my sisters curled ends.

“Enough! Enough!” I heard my sister gag; Olive began to cough like our grandmother when our pet cat was crawling around the house.

I scrunched my nose and lifted my finger off the contraption. I kept my little bit of oxygen as I fanned away the poisonous spray. Once I let the small breath out, I too coughed along with Olive; who was still coughing like an elder.

She grabbed her throat and ended the coughing session. She whipped her head around to face me; her chocolate eyes narrowing and meeting mine. Her scarlet lips fell downward into an unpleasant frown as she gave me her signature ‘What the fuck’ sneer.

I angled my brow and questioned her grimace. “What?”

“What?” She retorted. “You’re seriously, going to ask me what?”

I puckered my lips and looked off into the side awkwardly. I lifted my small hand to the back of my head and scratched a random spot. I dropped my eyes back on her after a moment and arched my brow again. “Um, what?” I repeated my tone hostile.

Her right eye twitched; that was really the only difference considering our fraternal twin-ship, either than the looks of course. I couldn’t help, but to snicker as her fingers curled and locked whilst she lifted them near my face. I took a step back and waited for her brief moment of frustration to end.

Olive pressed her lips together tightly before dropping her hands, running one through her slightly stiff hair. She dropped her eyelids, the thick ebony lashes casting a shadow over her slightly round cheeks. She inhaled, exhaled, inhaled and exhaled again; repeating the simple process until her face returned light creamy color.

I cocked my brow again. “Better?”

She opened her eyes and pursed her lips; propping a hand on her hip, before jutting it out in a sassy fashion. I furrowed my brows and folded my arms over my chest, giving her a confident smirk, waiting for her response. “Today is a good day, Honee. I refuse to yell when I’m in a good mood,” She replied. “Can you please get back to what you were doing; I don’t want to be late for my date.”

I rolled my eyes before giving her a gentle shove back on the blue marble bathroom counter. “Sure, that’s probably the only reason why you won’t throw a fit.” I moved to the side and grabbed my make-up pouch. I pulled out the liquid eyeliner and the eyelash curlers.

“Maayybbee.” She dragged
.
I rolled my eyes again and curved my index under her chin. “Right, look up and tilt your head back, Olive,” I ordered, doing it myself. I placed the small tube between my fingers and shook it up to get the inky liquid on the little brush. I twisted the cap and pulled it from the little black labeled tube. “Keep these puppies open.” I referred to her eyes.

Olive crossed her feet and batted her eyes when I got close to her with the wet tip. I drew on the eyeliner quick and neatly; I made sure it looked fantastic and I made sure whoever she was going out with, was going to like it. I moved on to the mascara. I took the curlers and clenched them and unclenched them

I gave her a wide and untrusting grin before bringing it close to her eyes. And at the corner of my eye, Olive gulped louder than she should have. “This might hurt, you know depending.”

Olive quickly grabbed my wrists and pushed the curler away from her lashes. “Is this absolutely necessary, Honee?”

“Not really,” I replied shrugging. “But you want to be beautified, so…” I trailed pushing my wrists back to her lashes.

“What if it hurts?”

“No pain, no gain sister.” I said, bringing it back to her face; she’d pushed it away again.

“I don’t want pain! I’m fine with my lashes!” She exclaimed, slapping the curler from my hands.

I winced a little; my sister’s slaps aren’t gentle. And it hurt like a mother fucker. I dropped the curler and it fell apart as it hit the cold beige tiles. I scowled and glared at my sister. I returned to my authority position; arms crossed over my chest, legs parted just a bit.

Olive shrunk and turned her body in a different direction, her lips pulled together. “Uh, I’ll get you another one?”

My left eye twitched for the second time. “I don’t want another one.” I hissed.

Olive glowers. “I don’t want to die tonight; I need to remain breathing and not rotting for my boyfriend. Kill me tomorrow, I give you permission.”

I shook my head and pinched the bridge of my nose, furrowing my brows. “I don’t kill a relative, that’s just too sadistic. Off the counter, go enjoy your date with what’s his face.”

“I’ll bring him over and have him introduce himself.” Olive smiled.

“He better not be cocky, give him note cards.” I said cleaning up the mess we made on the counter.

“I will!” She giggled excitedly. I glanced up in the mirror and watch her smile. Her smile was as bright as the light bulbs, which were beating into my scalp, making me sweat, and making me really uncomfortable; she was really bi-polar or it’s just the boyfriend really making her happy and excited. Either way, it was good to see her smile like that; I haven’t seen it since the last boyfriend.

“Well, I must get going!” She exclaimed. She hugged me around the shoulders tightly. “See you later tonight.” She gave another syrupy smile before skipping out the bathroom.

I sighed softly, pushing all the materials away in the drawers and cabinets. Soon, I heard the door slam and I was completely alone. I turned and scratched a random spot in my hair again; I began to whistle as I exited the bathroom. Then, I made my way into the kitchen; I need some junk food to watch some movies on the FX channel. I opened the food closet and rubbed my hands together, licking my lips in the process.

“Hmm, some lays are needed,” I spoke out loud. “Um, oh! Salt and vinegar, flaming hot Cheetos, skittles, twizzlers, almond joys,” I scanned the closet for some soda. “SPRITE!” I snatched the bottle and found myself in a predicament.

I swallowed a lump and focused on carry all of this stuff in my room. Don’t drop, don’t drop, don’t drop; I repeated over and over as I made my way into my room. It wasn’t far from the kitchen and it was one of the reasons why I chose this room out of the whole house.

Once in my room, I dropped all of the junk snacks on my bed. I kicked the door gently, leaving just enough amount of crack to hear my baby sister when she got home. I took a black hair tie off of my wrist and placed it in-between my lips. I pulled my dark hair back and grabbed the band; I placed my hair up into a loose ponytail. I plopped myself onto my comfy queen sized bed. I snatched the remote on my nightstand and pressed the button, switching on the glowing picture box.

Movie night for one.



“No, Harry! Don’t die!” I stuffed another handful of Cheetos in my mouth. I was watching Spider-Man 3 and I was nearing the end of it. Harry, the friend of Peter Parker was stabbed with his hover board. It was sad; I’m crying and stuffing my face. Wow, my life is sad.

I sniffled as I chewed on the cheesy puffs. I popped my fingers in my mouth, sucked, and licked off the orange cheese dust while maybe one or two tear drops fell from my eyelids. Spider-man’s an emotional movie!

Creak.

I sniffled and quickly wiped my watery eyes. I rolled up the bags of the Cheetos, Lays, and all the other stuff I got from my snack closet. I pushed them aside and got off my bum. I walked leisurely to the door of my room and swung it open.
I heard a soft moan, a really low groan, and a pressure of springs on the black sofa. I narrowed my eyes as I saw the boy; I believe it was her boyfriend, because she doesn’t cheat and I’ve never seen him in my house before. I crossed my arms and made my way over to them. And as quiet as a feather as it drops on the floor.

I gave a close scrutiny to my seemingly drunk sister and the boyfriend that took her in and laid her down. The boy’s hair was messy and damaged, but it was a beautiful reddish and chest-nut color. He was lanky, partially tan, with quite a few tattoos; he seemed like a typical rocker boy, who had big dreams and maybe didn’t have enough talent to make things happen; it was a possibility, I could be wrong.

“Ahem,” I cleared my throat.

“Don’t worry, I don’t take advantages.” He quickly responded to me clearing my throat; his accent was quite dreamy. He was an English man, a fine specimen of man.

“That’s nice. I’ll have her call you in the morning.” I’m not friendly with strangers.

“Can I at least get a small thank you?” He propped Olive’s head on the decorative cushion, before straightening his spine. I turned my head to the side and narrowed my eyes to the sudden familiarity of his side and a slight flashback with his voice. “A thank you doesn’t kill a-”

I froze in place almost instantly when his green and blue eyes met my chocolate orbs. “Oh, hell no.”