Chapter 11

My sister borrowed my blue dress. It suited her much more than me. Even though we were twins, Jeni took after mother: the features were more delicate than mine, nicely chiseled, her body was just like a perfect figurine of a ballerina from a wooden music box that I smashed on the funeral day.

"Try to leave a speck on it, and I'll kill you!" These were the last words I said to her. I don't even remember what she replied. Most likely she just stuck out her tongue and smiled.

They were going to the nearest mall... asked me to join them, but I refused. I wanted to watch some stupid TV show with dad and older brothers – I found it better idea than wandering from one boutique to another. There were many days when I wondered if I went with them, could it change anything? 

I never saw them again, becoming the only one girl in my family: a bleak-white phantom of my sister and a painful reminder of my mother.

I was telling this to her without looking into her eyes; instead, I was gazing at the picture on the wall. I think I was able to study every detail of it: the mast, the white sail, the waves. This was a reproduction of some famous painting. Yes, yes, of course, I saw the illustration in one of my mother's art books. Alana never interrupted me; didn’t she ask questions, didn't she pretend to be decent, faking sympathy. She just listened to me, being with me as I wanted it. 

I didn’t even remember how I ended up in her arms. Like a child, I pressed my face to her breasts. I didn't even cry. Usually, I cry when I talk about them, therefore, I don't talk about them at all. I don’t raise this topic of conversation, but if it happens by chance, I cleverly take it into another direction: I have masterfully learned to dodge a painful subject over the years, just like that guy from Matrix dodged bullets.

I'm pretty funny girl. You know, that one who is fond of laughing with someone at work, cheering up people around her... but with Alana I was shy, sometimes even speechless. I preferred to listen to her jokes and funny comments; I’d rather stay forever a bashful baby when with her than playing a role of a cheerful girl next door. 

Alana was patting my hair, while I was getting lighter and lighter inside disclosing my soul. I don't remember at what moment I stopped talking. A strange feeling of deliverance came as if a heavy backpack full of stones had been removed from my aching back. Alana seemed to have absorbed all my acute pain, leaving only bittersweet memories and hopes. Only her silent presence did more that no one, even the dearest ones, had succeeded in so many years.