Shopaholic and Sister
Page 77
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“I made every effort this weekend!” I cry. “I did everything I could to make you welcome, and you wouldn’t join in with anything! OK, so you don’t like When Harry Met Sally. But you could have pretended!”
“So you’d rather I was insincere?” says Jess, folding her arms. “You’d rather I lied? That just about sums you up, Becky.”
“It’s not lying to pretend you like something!” I shout in frustration. “I just wanted us to have a good time together! I did research, and I planned your room and everything… and you’re so cold! It’s like you don’t have any feelings!”
Suddenly I feel close to tears. I can’t believe I’m yelling at my sister. I can’t believe things have disintegrated this badly. I break off and take a few deep breaths, trying to regroup. Maybe I can retrieve things. Maybe we can still make it work.
“The thing is, Jess… I did it all because I wanted us to be friends,” I say. And it’s true. I really did. “I just wanted us to be friends.”
I expect to see her face softening, but if anything she looks more contemptuous than before.
“And you always have to get what you want,” she says. “Don’t you, Becky?”
I feel my face flame.
“Wh-What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re spoiled!” Her harsh voice cuts like a knife. “What you want, you get! Everything’s handed to you on a plate. If you get into trouble your parents bail you out, and if they don’t, Luke does! Your whole life makes me sick.” She gestures with her book. “It’s empty! You’re shallow and materialistic… and I’ve never met anyone so obsessed with their own appearance and shopping—”
“Talk about obsessed!” I shriek. “Talk about obsessed! You’re obsessed with saving money! I’ve never met anyone so bloody miserly! You’ve got thirty grand in the bank and you go around like you’re penniless! Getting free bubble wrap and horrible bruised bananas! Who cares if washing powder costs forty pence less?”
“You’d care if you’d been buying your own washing powder since the age of fourteen,” Jess snaps back. “Maybe if you took a little more care of the forty pence here and there you wouldn’t get into trouble. I heard about how you nearly ruined Luke in New York. I just don’t understand you!”
“Well, I don’t understand you!” I yell, in tears. “I was so excited when I heard I had a sister, I thought we’d bond and be friends. I thought we could go shopping, and have fun… and eat peppermint creams on each other’s beds… ”
“Peppermint creams?” Jess looks at me as though I’m crazy. “Why would we want to eat peppermint creams?”
“Because!” I flail my arms in frustration. “Because it would be fun! You know, ‘fun’?”
“I know how to have fun,” she snaps.
“Reading about rocks?” I grab Petrography of British Igneous Rocks. “How can rocks be interesting? They’re just… rocks! They’re the most boring hobby in the world! Which just about suits you!”
Jess gasps. “Rocks are… not boring!” she lashes back, grabbing her book. “They’re a lot more interesting than peppermint creams and mindless shopping and getting yourself into debt!”
“Did you have a fun bypass operation or something?”
“Did you have a responsibility bypass operation?” yells Jess. “Or were you just born a spoiled brat?”
We glare at each other, both trying to collect ourselves. The kitchen is silent apart from the whir of the fridge-freezer.
I’m not entirely sure what the Gracious Hostess is supposed to do in this situation.
Jess’s chin tightens. “Well… I don’t think there’s any point in my sticking around. I can catch a coach back to Cumbria if I leave now.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll get my stuff.”
“You do that.”
She turns on her heel and leaves the kitchen, and I take another swig of wine. My head is pounding.
She can’t be my sister. She can’t be. She’s a miserable, tightwad, sanctimonious cow, and I never want to see her again.
Never.
The Cindy Blaine Show
Cindy Blaine TV Productions
43 Hammersmith Bridge Road
London W6 8TH
Mrs Rebecca Brandon
37 Maida Vale Mansions
Maida Vale
London NW6 0YF
22 May 2003
Dear Mrs Brandon:
Thank you for your message.
We are sorry to hear you will no longer be able to appear on the Cindy Blaine show “I Found a Sister and a Soul Mate.”
“So you’d rather I was insincere?” says Jess, folding her arms. “You’d rather I lied? That just about sums you up, Becky.”
“It’s not lying to pretend you like something!” I shout in frustration. “I just wanted us to have a good time together! I did research, and I planned your room and everything… and you’re so cold! It’s like you don’t have any feelings!”
Suddenly I feel close to tears. I can’t believe I’m yelling at my sister. I can’t believe things have disintegrated this badly. I break off and take a few deep breaths, trying to regroup. Maybe I can retrieve things. Maybe we can still make it work.
“The thing is, Jess… I did it all because I wanted us to be friends,” I say. And it’s true. I really did. “I just wanted us to be friends.”
I expect to see her face softening, but if anything she looks more contemptuous than before.
“And you always have to get what you want,” she says. “Don’t you, Becky?”
I feel my face flame.
“Wh-What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re spoiled!” Her harsh voice cuts like a knife. “What you want, you get! Everything’s handed to you on a plate. If you get into trouble your parents bail you out, and if they don’t, Luke does! Your whole life makes me sick.” She gestures with her book. “It’s empty! You’re shallow and materialistic… and I’ve never met anyone so obsessed with their own appearance and shopping—”
“Talk about obsessed!” I shriek. “Talk about obsessed! You’re obsessed with saving money! I’ve never met anyone so bloody miserly! You’ve got thirty grand in the bank and you go around like you’re penniless! Getting free bubble wrap and horrible bruised bananas! Who cares if washing powder costs forty pence less?”
“You’d care if you’d been buying your own washing powder since the age of fourteen,” Jess snaps back. “Maybe if you took a little more care of the forty pence here and there you wouldn’t get into trouble. I heard about how you nearly ruined Luke in New York. I just don’t understand you!”
“Well, I don’t understand you!” I yell, in tears. “I was so excited when I heard I had a sister, I thought we’d bond and be friends. I thought we could go shopping, and have fun… and eat peppermint creams on each other’s beds… ”
“Peppermint creams?” Jess looks at me as though I’m crazy. “Why would we want to eat peppermint creams?”
“Because!” I flail my arms in frustration. “Because it would be fun! You know, ‘fun’?”
“I know how to have fun,” she snaps.
“Reading about rocks?” I grab Petrography of British Igneous Rocks. “How can rocks be interesting? They’re just… rocks! They’re the most boring hobby in the world! Which just about suits you!”
Jess gasps. “Rocks are… not boring!” she lashes back, grabbing her book. “They’re a lot more interesting than peppermint creams and mindless shopping and getting yourself into debt!”
“Did you have a fun bypass operation or something?”
“Did you have a responsibility bypass operation?” yells Jess. “Or were you just born a spoiled brat?”
We glare at each other, both trying to collect ourselves. The kitchen is silent apart from the whir of the fridge-freezer.
I’m not entirely sure what the Gracious Hostess is supposed to do in this situation.
Jess’s chin tightens. “Well… I don’t think there’s any point in my sticking around. I can catch a coach back to Cumbria if I leave now.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll get my stuff.”
“You do that.”
She turns on her heel and leaves the kitchen, and I take another swig of wine. My head is pounding.
She can’t be my sister. She can’t be. She’s a miserable, tightwad, sanctimonious cow, and I never want to see her again.
Never.
The Cindy Blaine Show
Cindy Blaine TV Productions
43 Hammersmith Bridge Road
London W6 8TH
Mrs Rebecca Brandon
37 Maida Vale Mansions
Maida Vale
London NW6 0YF
22 May 2003
Dear Mrs Brandon:
Thank you for your message.
We are sorry to hear you will no longer be able to appear on the Cindy Blaine show “I Found a Sister and a Soul Mate.”
