The Taboo Topics

It's Always Been You

It started to rain at midday.

Artemisia dashed straight outside, still barefoot, to gather up the clothes she'd hung up to dry only an hour previously. Blades of grass stuck to her feet as she ran through the mud, the bundle of sodden material in her arms. She dumped it straight on the kitchen floor, not entirely sure how to handle it. The thought never occurred to her to simply dry it with her dryer. Instead she stamped her way back upstairs, leaving a trail of muddy footprints across the threadbare carpets.

The wooden windowsill was still warm. She took her place there again, swinging her feet up to rest against the wall, grabbing her laptop and opening up her e-mail.

Absidy, again.

She ran a hand through her hair. Recently, her sister had become so needy. It wasn't like Absidy. Six months ago she'd still been brash, bold Absidy Gerger-soon-to-be-Freed. That was how she introduced herself to everyone, before she waved her hand vaguely in their face to show off the sparkly diamond ring. Now she was just plain Absidy Gerger again. It had been six months since the split. No, this was nothing like a split. Artemisia sifted through words in her mind. An explosion. Catastrophe. A shatter. Disaster. Apocalypse.

She stifled a laugh and finally flicked the letter open.

Six months since the split. A hailstorm of owls, letters from both sides of the turmoil. Artemisia seemed to be stuck in a bizarre no man's land, a tearful, car-crash Absidy on one side and Fenris Freed on the other. Absidy sent regular letters detailing her life; long, laborious essays on love and the heart and the pains of being single. Words like tears and broken heart seemed to constantly flicker up. From Fenris, she got occasional updates. He was in France with some ex girlfriend she couldn't be bothered to remember the name of, Then Spain with His most recent ex girlfriend Aimee Davis. She traced his passage through life through his girlfriends. Aimee Davis made a short reappearance before it seemed he had done a runner from their hotel in the middle of the night for reasons Artemisia didn't quite understand. His letters were short, impersonal- just dropping a line to let you know I'm still alive - accounts of day-to-day life. Absidy was never mentioned. Artemisia never wrote back.

She dutifully replied to each of Absidy's essays, however, keeping her responses short and vague. Artemisia didn't think she wanted to be more tangled up in the whole sordid affair.

In each of Absidy's letters she implored Artemisia to write to Fenris, to get him back, as if she expected her little sister to chase him across the world and drag him home again. Do it yourself, Artemisia always wrote. For Gods sake, I'm not a postal service. Absidy was having none of it. The correspondence got fiercer and fiercer in tone.

Artemisia quickly scanned the letter in her hand. It had a snide, clipped tone. It was shorter than normal. She could imagine her sister, sitting at home with a bottle of wine, growing increasingly drunker as she came up with more insults for her useless sister. It was sad, Artemisia thought, flicking the letter closed again and tossing it aside. They'd always been quite close. Polar opposites- Absidy was the pretty, popular one, with blonde ringlets and perfect grades. Artemisia was the flawed copy of her sister. She drifted along through life quite content, with a small group of friends, a penchant for history and poker-straight, chocolate brown hair. While the two girls had the same grey-blue eyes, the same thin lips, they couldn't be more different. What they lacked in similarity they made up for in sharing secrets, exchanging gossip in their attic room. It was a shame that since Absidy had ceased to be Gerger-soon-to-be-Freed their relationship had crumbled into little pieces.

Artemisia thought of her reply.

Jesus, Absidy. Go take a long walk off a short pier.

She decided not to bother.