Sister Act

Tailors are doing good business these days. I can speak for this one. He lives in some up market apartment at Hurlingham. I trudge up the stairs, behind my Sister. She’s into potted plants. She stops to have a long look at some winding weeds at the corridor.” I ring the bell. “It’s open!” I walk in …and freeze.

“Why are you so highly strung today?”… My sister had dropped by for the weekend. She was acting mighty strange, constantly dashing into the kitchen to answer her phone for the better part of the morning. Her conversations were in a hushed tone, but my keen sixth sense had it all figured out. “So”… I encouraged her... “The sissy dumped you? ... we should go out and celebrate, couldn’t stand the lot of you sobbing over that La Mujer soap.” “He’s sweet and sensitive, and you want to say I never seen you cry? “You may have, but that was back in the days when dad wielded the big stick. Nowadays, unless the riot police lob a teargas canister into the crib, you might not be so lucky.

“Oh, by the way, happy birthday.” …by the way… well, at least there was a flickering memory of me… “If you have no plans, we could go out to a movie, then diner? I’ll tell you all about it then.” At last, I am going to get me a real treat! After my friends had called in the morning with quick wishes and excuses, I had resigned to a normal day. “Perfect idea! I have absolutely no plans. My friends seem to be caught up in their dailies. Sue had promised me some outing but she says she woke up with a lump.” “Must be those synthetic shoes you bought her” “I never said it was on her foot, come on, I’m sure you know… okay, we’re even.”

We are at odds, I had suggested she calls me when she was done with her errands but she insisted on tagging me along. “When was the last time you spent a day with your Sister?”... “Well, back in those days when dad wielded the…” “Pleeease”… I spent the afternoon reading magazines at a salon. I then went in and out of boutiques, constantly being called upon to judge over jewellery and shades of make up. We ended up at her tailor’s shop. He had closed for the day. She made a frantic call. She had to pick up her skirt suit for a conference she had told me about. She was in luck. The tailor told her to collect the suit from his house nearby.

I am standing still in the living room. I just cannot believe it. “Surprise!!! Happy Birthday!!!” …So much for my sixth sense. So much for the tailor and suit, the excuses, the calls, sissy boy and …the lump! Every conceivable friend is here. Even as the chorus echoes, the room begins to spin, I manage to turn. My sister is standing in the doorway. I suddenly realize I cannot see her clearly. So long, teargas canisters.