Just A Knock Away

05: SISTERS

SALEM

When you meet someone at a young age, it's hard to make sense of the events that lead up to it. She sat next to me in class, so she's my best friend. He gave me his cup of Jell-O, so he's my boyfriend. But when the relationship evolves and matures as you age, everything before the big things feels so minuscule. The past art you made together doesn't compare to the boy you fought over in high school. The Jell-O cup doesn't compare to the sex. Sitting next to me means nothing after you do it in every class that we have together. So maybe that's why I can't remember exactly what led me and Ingrid to become friends, but I can't remember ever being without her.

Only children looking for the siblings that we saw on TV is what we told everyone that asked how we were so close. What I didn't say was that we understood each other, and that we couldn't live without each other. I didn't tell them that she was the first person that I felt like I could say anything to and never be judged. I didn't tell anyone that she was my twin flame. I had no idea what she told them, but I knew that it would never match the caliber of how I felt about us.

Everyone at school knew Ingrid. She was outgoing, flirtatious, fun and exciting — to know her was to love her. But I knew that the girls she'd laugh with in class were the same ones that would call her a slut in the hallways. The same boys that would call her beautiful and ask for her number were the same ones spreading her nudes around the school. But she never let anything other people did affect her. And I defended her at any given moment. I liked to think that she made me seem brighter and more like myself, like the coat of finish to a drab piece of wood. And maybe it was true. Boys gave me more attention when I was around her, and girls were nicer to me. But I was different from Ingrid in that I didn't engage with anyone but her. I didn't tell these people my secrets, let them see parts of me that I hadn't seen myself. She did.

I knew why. My mom died when I was born, so all that I knew was my dad. He was shy and soft spoken, we didn't ever fight because I knew to obey him. We were close, talked often, and had a good relationship. Kathleen, Ingrid's mom, wasn't always the frail woman that I know her to be now. She traveled the world and left Ingrid behind, pursuing a business career that had little to do with her only child. When she visited her dad, a free lance painter in the south, they fought and battled over every little thing. Neither of her parents gave her the time of day, both of them choosing something else over her. For her mom, it was her career. For her dad, it was an entirely new family.

But at school she was someone. Everyone wanted to know Ingrid Anderson. They slept with her, laughed with her, talked shit about her, trashed her, and fell in love with her all over again. "You know something," She'd told me once, "You're the only person in the whole world that I trust."

I smiled, trying to hide my pride. "You're my best friend, Ingrid."

"You're my sister."

She said that a lot, as if to remind each other. And I didn't think anything of it until the night of Graham Beckett's party. He wasn't super popular but he was on the soccer team, and was insanely hot. But what stood out about him, at least to Ingrid, was his interest in me. He invited me to his party, and I invited Ingrid because there was no way that I was going anywhere without her. But she thought of it as his way of flirting with me. I didn't really care. It was my first ever party, and I knew there was going to be alcohol, so I went.

We told our parents that we were sleeping over each other's house, and had Kathleen lie to my dad so it was legit. That night we were lucky that she was so emotionally distant from Ingrid, because she was the one who dropped us off at Graham's. When we arrived there were about 30 people there, only a hand full familiar to me, and four bottles of straight vodka.

"Holy shit." Ingrid grabbed a bottle and hogged it between the two of us, and before we knew it we were drunk. Ingrid was blurry but pretty. We'd picked out each other's outfit and I had suggested a crop top that showed off her tone figure. I was wearing a jean skirt, a tank top, and light make up. My curls were free and my skin was double lotioned. Graham's best friend, Franklin, had been my crush since middle school and I wanted to make my move.

"You're so blurry." I slurred, burped, and laughing all at once.

Ingrid grabbed my wrists and twirled me, "You're so hot."

I laughed, not thinking too much of it because we were drunk and sloppy. And then everyone was sitting in a circle, and an empty bottle of vodka was being spun around. Spin the bottle. I prayed to every God in the universe that I got to kiss Franklin, even though I knew nothing about kissing and even more nothing about Franklin. But he was one of the only black kids in our grade, was really nice in geometry, and smelled like pine trees. Aka the love of my life.

Someone must have heard my prayers because Franklin spun and got me, an uncomfortable smile tugging at his lips as we made eye contact. We leaned forward, pecked lips, and then sat back. I noticed that he was smiling, though, and that he didn't stop looking at me as I tucked my legs beneath my butt. From my left, Ingrid snorted. "You call that a kiss?"

Graham laughed, patting Franklin on the back. "Think you can do better, Anderson?"

I wish he hadn't said that.

Ingrid turned my face towards her, and placed her lips on mine. First it was soft and gentle, something polite between two best friends. Two sisters. But then I felt her tongue flicker between my lips. And then her hand was on my neck, firmly tilting my head to the side as her lips moved mine in a violently passionate motion. Something in my stomach stirred, and I felt my entire body go numb as Ingrid proceeded to make out with me right in front of a bunch of people.

A bunch of people that we knew.

I yanked myself back, my eyes widening as reality hit and everyone in the circle remained silent. Ingrid blinked, but her lip and faced forward, as if to reset. "I . . ." Graham glanced uneasily between the two of us, "I meant on Franklin."

Ingrid ignored him, grabbed the bottle and spun, and watched as it landed on Graham. Graham set himself into gear and the two of them made out. Then the game continued, we slept over, and went home in the morning.

I had never asked Ingrid about that kiss because I didn't know what it was myself. Neither of us had every expressed interest in girls, and especially not each other. So I shrugged it off. We were drunk and going. Stupid and giddy. Nothing more, just friends.

Sisters.

♦