The 19th

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She sat cross-legged, twirling a bottle. Her hair was raw pink like a tongue. It hung in jagged layers around her face, so sharp they reminded me of glass. Bandaids covered her left forearm. Scars peeked out, some still bleeding. She seemed translucent in the dark of the closet, almost glowing. She leaned forward and locked the door. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were pink as if she had been crying.

"Why?" I held up the party invitation, creased. Read a thousand times. Its contents memorized. Hey Peter Pan, I'm having a party. 2 am, the 19th. Come. Please. A party on the day she left us. God, it was messed up.

She bit her lip and only swung the bottle up. Drinking. Drowning. Her eyes squeezed shut. Her knuckles white.

"Goddammit, Eva." I snatched the bottle from her, falling to my knees. "Why?"

She stared at me before grinning. "Because she would have wanted one. Three's a party, right?" Her voice was cold, mocking.

Fuck you. "Stop that. She's... Ida's gone."

Her grin fell. "I know that better than you. Better than everyone." She turned away. "You know, there's supposed to be an upside to your twin being gone. No one asks which one you are. They're supposed to know. But my parents don't. One second, they can't look me in the eye, the next, I'm-I'm Ida."

"Eva-"

"She's gone but she's still here. Her name is synonymous with this giant fucking balloon that fills up the world, fills up the spaces between every atom, festering in you and me and everyone. Feeding on the air from our lungs, pushing us to the emergency room and yet we can't even say what's wrong with us. Her name is synonymous with the better one, the prettier, the smarter, the perfect one. Her name is all I can think about. I didn't know. I didn't know. I was supposed to know-"

"Eva! Stop, stop," I wrapped my arms around her. "You think I don't blame myself too? No one knew. We were her best friends and we didn't know-"

"I was her sister," she snapped. "She did it here, you know. This was our place. Yours, mine, hers. She ruined it. She locked the fucking door and she swallowed a whole bottle of pills and she swallowed the key. Do you know how many minutes it takes to break down an average wooden door? Four too many. If I was just a bit earlier, I could have, I could have saved-"

She stopped. I waited. She turned and kissed me. Her eyes were closed and her lips soft. She tasted like vodka and strawberries. Strawberries. Ida smelled like them. I closed my eyes, pressing my lips against hers. Ida, Ida, I-da... Ida? No, she wasn't. Ida's gone. I opened my eyes and looked down at the top of her head. Eva. Fuck. I pulled away, tumbling against the door. She kept her eyes closed for a few seconds and then stared. At me – no, through me.

I stared back. Her eyes were blue. Paler than Ida's. She turned away again. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to get even. I wanted to have my first kiss before her. I was older but she had someone. She had you. That day I walked in on you two in the closet; you were going to kiss her, weren't you? If I hadn't walked in?" She buried her face in her hands. "I'm sorry, I don't like you that way, it's just... I don't know. I don't know."

"It's okay. I-" I coughed into my shoulder, "I miss her too."

She reached out and punched me softly in the arm. "Hey, you weren't supposed to grow up. You promised us." I smiled. She cocked her head and her lips curved up ever so slightly but fell. What? She growled and punched me again. Harder. My elbow banged against the door, sending jolts to my fingers. Fuck.

"What the hell, Eva?!"

"You promised. She grew up but you weren't supposed to. She was Wendy Ida Grey and you were Peter Pan. Why couldn't you just let her grow up by herself?"

I stuck out my tongue. "Yeah, well someone's gotta take care of you." I leaned forward to ruffle her hair.

"Don't." I flinched, my hand floating in the air. I pulled away. She glared. "You fucking idiot. She didn't kill herself, she killed us." Her voice cracked and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "You were going to kiss her the day before she did it. You were supposed to be a kid. We tried to ignore that you weren't anymore but you... Fuck you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I snarled.

She muttered, "I should have known. Wendy always leaves. Wendy Ida Grey." She snatched the vodka and drank, spilling some down her shirt. I tapped my foot. Waiting. It always annoyed Eva. Her shirt was starting to turn translucent. I coughed and looked away.

"Well?"

She cocked her head and grinned. She tossed the bottle to the right, against the wall. "Jesus, Eva!" I covered my head with my right arm, the explosion of glass sudden and loud. I waited a few seconds before turning back to her slowly.

She had a sad smile now. "Didn't you notice she only talked to us in the closet in the last few years? So no one would hear us? That she was our only friend, the only one who talked to us? But we didn't know because three's a fucking party, right?" Her voice was cold again. "Didn't you realize that we can't remember anything but her? She wanted a twin and a little boy. Her own Peter Pan. Us-"

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," I said slowly, my voice low. I almost didn't recognize it.

"Oh Peter, you know. You know she-"

"Shut. Up. Eva."

"-made us up."