Sisterly Escapades

Growing up, I was a selfish brat.  My sister, Geri, on the other hand, was everyone’s sweetheart.  When my sister was born, I was four, and the entire universe revolved around me.  Like most first-borns, I was doted upon, and my mother may have unwittingly told me (in a desperate attempt to make a smooth transition when the new baby arrived) that she loved me more–at least that’s the way my four-year-old brain saw it.  I’m sure that was the icing on my cake; the sparkler on my 4^th of July; the M&Ms in my grubby little hand.

 

Therefore, our relationship was always a love/hate thing.  Geri loved me, and I hated her.  I would get two candy bars and eat both of them.  She would get a candy bar and ask for another one for her sister.  And actually gave it to me!

 

It is a sad thing, so go ahead, and feel for her.  It breaks my heart now, to see how this whole thing played out during our growing-up years.  But it all changed when I moved away from home.  I began to see her for the beautiful heart she has. When I taught in a classroom next to where she was a teacher’s aide, I saw what a wonderful, natural, teacher she was.  My respect grew immensely for her.  She became my best friend, and I trust her with my children’s lives.

 

About the time I first began repairing our sisterly bond, we shared a booth at an old Dog ’N Suds restaurant.  After we had eaten, we stayed a while longer, to chat, reminisce, and laugh.  Time escaped us, and when we became aware of our surroundings once again, we worried it was closing time and that we were holding up the cleaning and locking-up crew.  We scanned our bill and began to gather our money to pay.  Together, we came up 83 cents short.  We joked how the restaurant staff would probably make us do dishes for our meal, and continued to scrounge for loose change.  We examined the bottoms of purses and every pocket we had between us.  Not an extra penny could be found.  We found the situation hilarious, and kidded that maybe we could find it on the floor.  One of us found a quarter under the table.  That was too funny.  The staff had every right to wonder if we were drunk, because our volume was increasing with every coin we continued to find in the seats and on the floor.  We were uncontrollable.  We were obnoxious.  It was just ludicrous.  By the time we counted our last found coin, we had–and I’m dead serious–exactly 83 cents!

 

Our Dog ‘N Suds experience was over thirty years ago, and the escapades have continued.  School was out for the summer yesterday, and Geri helped me pack up my classroom so I could help her run some errands.  At one point, she walked over to me and showed me her red toes.  They looked like they were oozing blood.  Before she put her flip-flops on that morning, she attempted to remove her red nail polish.  It must have been one heck of a good brand, because it was still furiously clinging in and around the nails, even after using lavish doses of polish remover.  I thought we needed to go for pedicures, solve her problem, and celebrate the last day of school.

 

In between errands, we found time to go to a nail salon.  The nail techs wanted us to choose our particular pedicure from a small binder.  The names and treatments were as exotic as tropical islands.  I just wanted the basic pedicure.  My tech, Addie (whose English was beautifully spoken), told me I didn’t need much work, which pleased me to no end, and she selected a simple little number which included a mini “pina colada-type” treatment and a paraffin bath.  Geri was sitting in the massage/soak chair next to me, and was told by her tech, Ben, that she needed a lot of work (red toes?).  My treatment would absolutely not be the one for her.  She needed the “Hawaiian.”  At least we thought that is what he recommended.  Ben went to great lengths to describe to Geri what he would use, and Addie often translated.  Geri just smiled and bobbed her head in agreement. Addie stopped her filing at one point, looked up at me, and said, “If you are going to have ’pedicure envy,’ it is not too late to change your mind.”  “What? Pedicure envy?  You mean feel jealous of the treatment she is getting?” “Yes.  It is not too late to change your mind.”  “No, I’m good.  Not envious at all.”

 

I was, however, envious of her chair.  You could visibly see those rollers move up and down my sister’s spine, causing her eyes to roll back in her head.  If I wanted mine to move, I had to turn it on, let it roll up, then turn it on again, and let it roll down.  I gave up, after a few minutes.  The first tray Ben brought out, had bowls of lush, pureed fruits, sorbet, and sliced oranges.  Some of the pureed fruit looked like it was topped off with pistachio sauce.  Scrumptious. I was hungry, but not envious.  I thought Geri might get to eat the luscious tray of food while having a foot massage.  That thought was short lived, when Ben began dumping globs of the desserts upon her legs and feet.  Before long, he was bicep high in mounds of fruit and was expertly rubbing sliced oranges up and down my sister’s legs.  What a waste!  A guy I presumably identified as a manager walked by and told Addie I did not need the paraffin bath after all–I was to get the “sport.”  The “sport?”  I don’t even play sports!  No exotic pedicure for me.  Sigh.

 

I had also planned to get a manicure, but Geri had not.  Before we knew it, Ben signed her up for one, when she inadvertently smiled and nodded at something he said.  I am pretty sure I received the “sport” manicure to match my “sport” pedicure (a very sensible choice, even if it wasn’t my choice).  Again, Geri must have “needed more work,” because she also received the “Hawaiian” on her hands and arms.  I mean she got the royal treatment.  Ben kept saying something about “feel beautiful,” “relax,” and was getting what I thought was way too excited than he had a right to.  If he had been the one in the chair, I could understand his giddiness.  He kept asking her, “How you feel?”  That was sweet, but I wanted to ask him, “How YOU feel?!”  The woman getting the vegetable rub-down with cucumbers, never even looked up from the book she was reading, and her tech did not have an ecstatic expression on his face, either, because I checked.  It was all business.  Kenny Chesney or Jimmy Buffet singing to us about the islands might have made for a fitting climax–the pistachio sauce on the sorbet if you will–but it also might have induced Ben‘s big moment, and none of us needed that–slathering the fruit on already seemed to be doing the trick.  I had never seen anything like it. I’m definitely going to be more observant in the produce section of my local grocery from now on–oh, oh, he’s buying a pineapple–wait, she picked up a cantaloupe!  I’m considering ordering my fruit online, in the privacy of my own home, and having it delivered in a plain brown wrapper.  Who knew?

 

As we left the salon and went outside, Geri said, “Oh my gosh, there’s Ben.”  Sure enough, he was leaned up against the building, with a knowing smile on his face, enjoying a cigarette!  He frantically waved at my sister like she was an old acquaintance, as we walked to our car.  It was about this time, she secretly confided she had felt awkward using the word b-e-e-n in his presence–as in, “Have you been to the new Kroger, yet?“  She said it felt too intimate!

It has b-e-e-n a day since we left Geri’s tropical paradise, and I am still stunned. She suggests we should get a pedi and mani every month.  Really, now.  Aw, heck, maybe I’m just going to have to get over this.  After everything I put her through during those early years, she deserves the royal treatment.  At least she is willing to go to a different salon, next time.

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