Chapter 3 – The Lost Sister
I realized with horror that
I was going to cry.
Seemed I’d never expected
To actually see her
She was a scam – a myth –
Like so many ones
She pleasured to perpetrate
On our poor parents.
“Darling!” Threw her skinny arms out
And kissed the air.
“You escaped!
You’re all grown up!”
She was shorter than me now –
A tiny person-
How I laughed.
Laughed with relief –
Suddenly I was initiated into
Her exclusive club
Two of us against the world
Superiority & sisterhood.
She’d always known – none better
How difficult parents are.
They didn’t need me to protect them
Running my own modest scams
To engineer breathing room
Took all the help I could get.
Could it be time for Mirabel and me
To grow up together?
I’d have a New York City sister –
Married to a lord
Providing escape anytime.
Mirabel tossed Verne a burning look –
“Get us drinks?”
And dragged me –
Literally DRAGGED me –
Into a double-doored bedroom where she
Swept me down upon the white flokati rug
And gazed deeply in my eyes.
I felt a bit of a hostage at that point
To tell you the truth.
She seemed more desperate for ME –
A nobody fourteen year old –
Than I was for her.
How could this be Mirabel?
So much smaller than my memory –
Disappearing before my eyes in fact,
Running away
As she had seemed to do
The whole of my existence –
Shoulders folding together
Over her knees –
Dress size diminishing
Smaller, ever smaller.
How could this tiny thing
Ever strut a catwalk?
Blondness was history
She was a redhead now.
She caught me staring at her scarred
Upper lip and covered it
With a gesture I recalled
As if moving her hand fast enough
I wouldn’t see it. “Too many
Piercings gone haywire,” she explained.
Apologizing to me
For the ruin
Of her beauty.
Something rattled at our door – Mirabel called –
“We’re naked!”
Pulled me into giggles –
“Leave it outside!”
She covered my mouth and signaled with
Humongous eyes –
Crawling to the door she –
Peeked out low –
Pulled in a
Champagne bucket and a pair of flutes.
My face must have showed
Surprise at his exclusion; but
She said: “Grooms get in the WAY
Of weddings! No one wants them!”
She lifted an unsteady
Rock-wearing hand to toast –
“Men! You know! They want to
Decide everything but weddings are the
Bride’s-” She gasped and gagged
As if from desert thirst – as if
She’d never had such wine.
“You can’t think what pleasure it is
Finally getting rid of him – too much
Togetherness destroys
The hardiest relationship.”
I sipped sedately, even though
The brew frothed my sinus
Parked burning foam
Behind my eyes.
How COULD this be Mirabel?
The way she looked at me –
Something stank of
Imposture and deceit.
I just can’t say –
I’m far too new –
It’s just too weird.
She was my sister and yet not.
She leaned too close to
Touch my hair.
“They should have named you
Maribel so we’d be twins.”
The door opened and Verne stood over us
Looked reproving as
Mirabel fell away.
But he was mild enough
Laying dress bags on the bed.
He winked and
Then was gone
Door slightly left ajar –
Pointedly, I thought –
Mirabel closed it with her foot,
Called, “See you at dinner!”
I felt sorry for the poor groom –
Then we heard the outer door slam and
Mirabel unzipped bags briskly after
Topping off her glass with
Vodka from a bottle by the bed.
“Bad champagne,” she excused herself,
“In Europe, babies drink this stuff.”
I studied the bottle –
Beau Joie Brut Special Cuvée –
“Brute” champagne
Sharpened me like
Winter air when you can
See farther, fly further
Or think that you can.
Mirabel offered her bottle.
“No thanks.”
And drained her tulip glass
And spoke my words.
”You’ve changed,” she commented.
Did I drink vodka at eight years old?
I said, “So have you.”
“My hair hated being blonde.”
“Is he really a lord?”
Mirabel rolled her eyes.
“Unfortunately.” At my surprise she added –
“It’s a cruel trick if
You can’t do anything you want.”
Shrugged.
“At least the restaurants like it.”
“And you’ll be –“
“Lady Verne.”
Unexcited at the prospect.
Opposite of what
Old Mirabel would have thought
She followed the doings & undoings of
European princelings in
Vogue magazine.
I probed deeper.
“You just met?”
“God no, we’ve been together FOREVER –
And only now we tie the knot. But you!”
She spun me all around.
“You’re so tall! And thin!”
I found myself apologizing.
“I can’t stop eating –
“I must grow so fast because I eat
Whatever I can find.”
“After the wedding,”
Mirabel promised
“We’ll do a purge.”
Sounds like a great honeymoon
I thought but didn’t say.
She was not making out a
Great campaign for aristocracy &
Marriage.
“Think you’d fit a four?”
The dress she flourished was pale gold,
A fairytale gown with an endlessly flounced
Puffy skirt. My gasp
Relaxed her. And she smiled.
Most beautiful dress I’d ever seen.
“Let’s find out!” I
Almost dropped my wineglass in
Excitement. Rapidly
Stripped to totally unsightly sports bra
And cartoon briefs.
I knew we’d try on clothes
But I owned no decent lingerie.
“Can’t wear a bra,” said Mirabel.
“You don’t need one anyway.
I’ll cinch you in.”
She gazed too long at my sad breasts
A man’s gaze I thought –
This dress had ribbons for corset strings
and Mirabel cinched me tight.
“There!” The mirror exposed a stranger.
I was a new person.
“A little short, maybe” said Mirabel,
“With the right shoes…”
From the closet she threw out flats.
Disappointing – but –
Bridesmaid shouldn’t tower over bride!
Maid of honor harnessing
The clashing egos!
In weird familial telepathy
Mirabel said,
“Princess Richenda
To the Dark Tower came.
Just like in the
Tarot cards.”
In the mirror
I admired my nude
Beribboned back.
“How about your dress?”
“You’ve seen it.”
It was like the breath went out of her.
She tossed it out – they were identical.
How could that be?
Wasn’t that too strange?
I was gobsmacked –
Never heard of bride and bridesmaid
Wearing the same dress –
Think of the confusing pictures –
People getting entirely
Wrong ideas.
Sounds like bad luck-
Guaranteeing
The groom will see the gown
Before they’re hitched
If you believe in that sort of thing.
Mirabel’s dress was
Smaller – size “zero” –
Competitive,
Combative Mirabel.
She knocked my phone right out of my hand –
“No pictures till the wedding.”
Her pressured speech rushed on –
“We’ve got to dress for dinner.”
She checked her phone.
“What will you wear?”
I looked embarrassed at my
Corduroy skirt
Discarded like a
Shriveled carapace along the floor.
Mirabel threw open mirrored
Doors to reveal another bedroom –
This one stocked with girlish stuff.
“This room is yours -”
She told me –
“He’s staying at The Stanhope.”
I blushed – I don’t know why
He’d called it “his” place –
And these closets were packed
With Mirabel clothes so
Where did I fit in?
My sister unbound my dress –
I’m not used to
Clothes that need assistants.
“You can borrow anything.”
Tossed out a slinky gown green with
Scales that matched my eyes
Still with price tags –
I’d never had a dress this costly.
No bra here either –
I dangerously chose heels that made me
Six feet tall – but Mirabel
Didn’t seem to mind –
She gave me smoky eye, nude mouth and
Emerald glitter.
“Verne hates lipstick.”
But she wore plenty –
Cherry red to match her dress –
I felt lucky anyway
To be transformed.
Now I was an impostor too.
“He’s waiting at the Stanhope Bar.”
Alysse Aallyn 