Prompted by a 72 hour Short Story Contest over at RedBubble in honor of the Queen's birthday. (Hence the theme: Queen)
I am also going to consider this inspired by one of the three prompts this week over at Writer's Island as I feel that sibling rivalry sometimes stems from the sense of being "Overshadowed".
Sibling rivalry by *Mon-artifice on deviantART
©2008 *Mon-artifice
Queen of the Game
The noise was deafening, but I couldn’t hear it. My sight was filled with movement, yet the stillness of her was all I could see. There was always one like her, standing, waiting for the world to be served up on a platter of adoration and awe. And it usually was. Her charisma consisted of more than just beauty. It was a palpable energy that drew others to her, even from a distance. She never wanted for anything: attention, money, or men.
We always came together, but separated shortly after arriving. With her, I was less than a shadow. I was a dark speck that people flicked out of their eye the moment she came into view. The night always began the same, she would head in one direction and I the other. Like taking sides in a game, each of us faced off across the crowd and began picking out who’d we like to play with most.
I felt him before I saw him. As he approached, I realized he had made a mistake. He was looking at me as if he knew me. I turned around, sure that he was actually staring at someone else. There was no one there.
“Hey there.”
“Uh, hello.”
“Are you okay? You look a bit…distressed.” Stunned was more like it. He was unbelievably handsome and had a smile that was nearly fatal as evidenced by my inability to breathe. I was positive that if I raised my fingers to my throat, there would be no pulse.
“No. I...I’m fine, really.”
“I couldn’t help but notice you when you came in. Not sure if I’d seen you here before, but somehow, you look so…familiar. Jeez, that sounds like a line doesn’t it, and a real weak one at that.”
I must be dreaming. Or he was one helluva liar. He lost a bet. That’s it. It has to be. I begin scanning the room seeking out proof for my theory.
“You’re supposed to be meeting someone aren’t you? I’m sorry I thought…”
I nearly yanked his arm out of its socket in order to keep him from walking away.
“No! No. Really. I’m sorry. It’s just that…crap…how do I explain this without sounding like a complete fool?”
Grinning, he took my hand from his arm and held it in his. He softly drew circles with this thumb while never taking his eyes from mine.
“Just tell me. I promise not to laugh.”
“When I arrived, did you see who I was with?”
“Yes. Who didn’t?”
Ah, that’s it then. Not able to make his way through the hovering throng on the opposite side of the room, he thought he would work a different angle in order to get to what he really wanted. It wouldn’t be the first time some guy had tried to use me this way. It had happened so often that I was almost used to it. Eventually it became part of the game. Not wanting to spend the whole night standing at the bar looking desperate, I would allow them to buy me drinks and tell me those insignificant stories that people share whenever they are forced to make small talk. It would generally last as long as it took for them to realize that I wasn’t going to introduce them to her. If they wanted any of her honey, they were going to have to earn it.
But this time was different; at least, I wanted it to be different. I pulled my hand away.
“I see.”
He actually had the balls to look upset.
“No, I don’t think you do.”
Cheeky bastard. I nearly raised my hand to slap him but stopped myself. Instead I finished my drink started to leave.
“You think I’m talking to you to get to her, don’t you?”
My eyes betrayed me. They were bone dry when they looked away, but somehow found a way to squeeze a drop of hurt into each corner by the time I looked back and up into his face.
“You’re wrong. I know her type all too well. Way too much effort with nothing to show for it but a few good memories and a depleted bank account.”
Taking my hand again, he pulled me closer. His free arm found its way past my waist and to the small of my back. Leaning in close, he whispered into my ear words I thought I’d never hear from a man like him, at least not when he was sober.
“Why don’t we go somewhere quieter? There’s a coffee house not far from here. We can get a couple of lattes and get to know each other better. Whaddya say?”
Looking over to the other side of the room, I could see she was well on her way to having another successful evening. There was no need to tell her that I was leaving, or worry how she would be getting home. I knew she could take care of herself.
Noticing my glance, he shook his head. “I don’t know how you can stay friends with someone like that.”
Offering me his arm, I took it and allowed him to lead me toward the door. I couldn’t help but notice her still standing there, with the drones buzzing, but never landing. I wondered how long it would take them to learn that she was merely a figment of their imagination; approachable yet untouchable. Somehow I thought these will-less souls knew this, but were so entranced by the honey they were willing to be stung in order to savor its sweetness.
“Oh, she’s not my friend,” I said absentmindedly, “She’s my sister.”
I found her eyes from across the room and threw her a knowing wink. Smiling, I think of how that night, for once, I got to be queen of the game.
