In the car

The sisters enjoyed the quiet of the car journey. Sydney rested her forehead against the window; her skull tingled, her teeth vibrated as streaks of cars and indistinguishable landscape raced past in brown and green. She imagined running along those distorted hills, at the same speed as the vehicle, running her legs into a fleshy blur but her eyes couldn’t keep up with the fantasy run, her body wasn’t able to reach its projection. Nausea pulsated through her stomach, threatening to creep upwards if she didn’t bring her eyes away from the window.

Isabelle concentrated on the road, the air was clear, not yet thickened by a full day of pollution. She hummed a tune her two year old had composed earlier that morning: “milk milk milky milk”.

“Did you say something?”

“No.”

Sydney raised her eyebrows.

“Jimmy made this little song. He sings it when he pours milk into his cereal.”

She smiled to herself, picturing the kid’s fat little face, his marble eyes concentrating hard on the bowl. Even when her husband was in the worst of his morning moods, the breakfast routine managed to make her smile, the colourful cereal hoops, the jokes and riddles on the back of the boxes that their baby brains couldn’t understand but if she read them out in a funny voice they howled with laughter anyway. And then there were their little fingers and the way they wrapped tight around their spoons, splashing puddles of milk across the wooden table. Milk, milk, milky milk.

“You should make him audition for the X-factor.”

Isabelle detected her sister’s sarcasm and decided to match it.

“He’ll be too busy, he’s appearing as a contestant on Take Me Out.”

Sydney laughed until the nausea reappeared. The car journey was coming to end as they pulled into the driveway of their parent’s house, the driveway they had always known, the same jagged bits of gravel, the same rotting oak tree, the same weeds of grass their mother never got round to trimming. Only now everything was laced with tinsel and balloons. The sisters wondered why their parents had made such an effort with decorations; anniversaries usually entailed a nice meal somewhere, without paper lanterns and ribbons and banners. Sydney had hoped it would be the four of them and some steaks on the barbecue, but looking at the celebratory display there would be guests, a lot of guests.

Isabelle parked the car and took the key out of its ignition. Neither of the sisters moved, both remained sat up right, staring solemnly into the windscreen.

“We can still go back. It’s not too late.”

“Syd, I want to ask you something”

“No, Izzy I don’t want to tell you about the wedding, or Vincent or what happened that night, alright, just drop it.”

“That’s not what I was going to ask”.

Sydney turned to face her sister. “What is it?”

“Well, John will be at the barbecue with the kids and I just want you to know that me and John are…”

Sydney finished her sentence for her, it was no surprise, John was an asshole. Isabelle could be one too, especially when she took on her I’ve-got-a-family-and-kids-that’s-why-I’m-superior-to-you tone of voice but John was worse than that; John was a real investment banking asshole.

“..you’re getting a divorce.”

“No. No it’s not that dramatic”.

“Well then what is it..?”

“Well we’re…”

There was another possibility: the expensive gym equipment, the Armani suit, the inappropriately minimalist design of a house that has a two year old and five year old for residents.

“Is he gay?”

Isabelle brought her face right up to Sydney’s.

“Let me finish.”

“Sorry.”

“We’re, we’re kind of, experimenting, no not experimenting, we’re, well we’re trying an open marriage.”

Saying it out loud didn’t make it any better, it didn’t make it sound less pathetic. Isabelle hoped that once those words left her mouth she’d feel modern and sophisticated and even racy but all she felt was shame. If only she could could inhale those words back and swallow them.

“Is that where you both screw other people for the sake of a healthy marriage?”

“I knew you wouldn’t like it.”

“Then why tell me about it?”

“Because...fuck it”.

Isabelle was clearly having some trouble, which was rare. It was a known fact that Sydney was the one with the problematic, modern life and Isabel had the togetherness of a traditional set up: husband, kids and a house in the suburbs. She never thought this moment would come, was she actually doing better than her sister, for once? And then she remembered the letter in her pocket and why her head ached and who helped her into the car this morning and she remembered she was in no superior position.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be judgmental”.

“Do you have any cigarettes on you?”

Sydney rolled her window down and lit a cigarette for both of them.

“I actually wanted to ask you, do you know any single men, that I’d like...”

“This is too much for me Izzy.”

“Sorry. It’s just...I think John might have, started, already, if you know what I mean.”

The sisters puffed silently on their cigarettes, silvery trails coiled around their heads, a cloud of nicotine enveloped their bodies - they both hoped their cigarettes would last forever, and then three loud bangs disturbed the peace.

“Girls! What in the world?”

The sister’s exchanged looks of terror. They got out of the car before their mother, armed with a rolling pin, did any damage to the vehicle.