Being Blinded

Chapter Three

There's always something different about her every time we manage to catch up, facetime doesn't always give away all the changes one goes through as time passes. Now that Phoebe has moved down here, fresh from graduation and working a retail job that sucks the life out of her the gaps between our meetings aren't as large.

Somehow, she still looks changed every time our paths cross and I let myself sink into the comforting familiarity of my sister's presence, there's more caramel blonde highlights through the dark auburn of her hair. Tied back away from her face and hanging long down the centre of her back, the depths of her ocean eyes shine back at me in the artificial light of the Blue Monkey.

Phoebe and I have always been mistaken for twins, the age gap between us not great enough to be immediately discernible but as we have both grown up, her features darkened and mine only grew lighter. The contrast between our hair used to be so small, and now she dyes her hair lighter, longing for the streaks of brightness that have come naturally my whole life.

It's strange to look into the eyes of someone who has always been my other half and recognise the longing to be the other, to swap places even for a second. I know she wants to escape the crushing weight of their disappointment but the burden of them sitting on mine isn't the sweet release she thinks it'll be.

I'm the lucky one, I know that without a shadow of a doubt and yet the two of us linger awkwardly in the tension our parents have given us. I would cut them off in a second for her and when everything cracked, I tried, I thought that's what being supportive was. Turns out she loathes the idea of me losing my parents too, even if their prejudice and blatant disgust with their other daughter turns my stomach.

We're constantly fighting and failing at keeping this balancing act upright.

"Are you sleeping?" Phoebe asks, breaking the tension and lifting a dark auburn brow in my direction as blue eyes narrow suspiciously.

The back corner table of Sophie's café is a private oasis from the people filtering in and out, while others chat loudly around us. "Are you doing drugs?"

A frown tugs at the corners of Phoebe's mouth, wrapped around the end of her paper straw. "No"

"Then our answers are the same" I shrug, trying to ignore the way her eyes criticises me.

I'm no idiot, I know she doesn't fall for the way I have attempted to slide in my worry, avoiding her concern for me and pushing my own to the forefront. It's never a nice topic, two sentences about it leaves the both of us feeling hollow despite how many times it's passed our lips.

"You can just ask" Phoebe sighs, picking at the crust of her toast that lays vacant on her otherwise empty plate. "Facetime and in person isn't that different and if I don't scold you for asking there, then I'm not going to cause a fuss now and besides, I promised you I would be honest even when I didn't want to be"

Our parents cutting her off has hardened her in ways you never want your little sister to be changed. She used to remind me of Claudia, I think in a lot of ways that is what drew me towards becoming her friend all those years ago.

Claudia lost some of her sparkle late last year, but I can still see it shimmering under the surface on even her darkest days but the more time that goes on. The more I am convinced that the same can't be said for Phoebe, I don't think it was just the way they cut her off and blanked on acceptance.

The knife that drove her towards this darkness that hangs heavy around her now, was how easy our parents slipped into being parents of one.

Being parents of just me.

"Sorry," I sigh, swirling my disintegrating straw around the cream collected at the bottom of my empty ice chocolate. "It's different in person, I can't quite figure out what to say and I can work myself up to asking on the phone, but I don't think I can prepare in person"