Sunday Scribblings #12 – Wicked

Brrrrrrrriiiiinggggggggggg

Brrrrrrrriiiiinggggggggggg

“Get the phooooone!”

Dara shouted as loudly as her voice could handle.
Part of me hated that bossy you-are-less-than-me voice. Another part wondered, how did she become so bold? And why had I responded by becoming so mousy and passive?

Brrrrrrrriiiiinggggggggggg

Running to the kitchen from the basement, I could feel my breath deepen as I exhaled “Hello?”

I hated answering the phone. It rang so often and it was rarely for me.

There was always an awkward silence while the caller tried to guess whether they were speaking with Dara, or me, her twin sister. While our voices and appearances are the same, the similarities end there. As they say in India we are “same same, but different”.

“Uh, Dara?” The inflection always rose dramatically and unaturally.

That’s when my heart would drop down into my knees. It reminded me that I didn’t quite measure up in the popularity department. I resented her ease at always having a “best friend” when it took so much effort for me to make any kind of friend, let alone a best friend.

I resented that the caller would always let me say, “No, just a minute” without saying, “Oh, hi Sandy, how are you?”.

If I could recognize the voice on the other end of the phone, and the caller knew me, why wouldn’t they at least be polite and acknowledge that?

This time, though, I wanted to give the caller another chance, by reminding them of my name.

“No, it’s Sandy”

“Wicked! I was hoping you were home”.
Yeah, it was wicked.
Those words were all it took to make me realize I didn’t need to be anyone else but me.