The Wrong Sister

by Leanne Davis

  He took her hand. Out of friendship. Guilt. Sadness. He didn’t know. A deep sorrow filled his chest. “I don’t know.”

  She leaned back, throwing his hand from hers and crossed her arms over her chest. “My sister, huh? Kind of a douche bag move, Donny. And not something I’d ever expect from you.”

  “There’s nothing between us.”

  She held his gaze. “There might be…”

  “No. There will never be.”

  She sighed and let her head rest on the back of the chair. “Ah, damn, baby, you picked a girl who doesn’t do the things I do. She’s not bad enough. Bold enough. So no, it might never happen.”

  “We can’t talk about this anymore.”

  She shrugged. “I’m tired of lying and pretending. You want the truth? You don’t give me enough attention. You don’t get me horny and satisfy me anymore. And I miss that. A lot. You want a mother figure for your spouse, one I’ll never be. But I love Julia. I’m just as confused where this leaves us as you are. I should hate you, and detest my sister, yet I feel a distracted kind of anger about it. But not at the level I should. I should be attacking her and ripping her damn eyes out. Yet all I feel is kind of removed from the whole situation. I’m angry, but not. I keep thinking you’ll never get what you want from her because she’s too goody-two-shoes to ever betray me like that. And that strikes me as ironic and funny, which makes me feel mean. Something that, again, you and she are not. But then, I want to be better. I’m trying to be better. So where does that leave me? I just don’t know… Do you know what I mean?”

  He snorted as he shrugged and sighed. “I have no idea where any of this leaves us.”

  “Pretty fucked up.”

  He finally laughed. “Okay, pretty fucked up.”

  “I’ll take you up on a ride to my meeting.”

  “Yeah?” He glanced at her, looking surprised. “That would be my pleasure. And that isn’t me being nice, or noble, or self-sacrificing. I don’t want you drinking and hurting again.”

  “All right. Call my mom. Have an excuse for why, yet again, I won’t be with my daughter, and let my mother quickly reassure you that of course, it’s okay and totally normal that I don’t tend to my daughter like I should. Do that, Donny. I can’t pretend today.”

  ****

  Vickie lasted two more months before she messed up again. He found her inside her parents’ house, sneaking nips off a small flask she carried in her purse. Must have been vodka as he could not smell it on her.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded when he caught her, his hands on his hips.

  She stared hard at him. “You’re in love with her.”

  “What?” Donny whipped around to stare at Vickie. They were at a family birthday party for Jay, and the entire family was sprawled out over the yard. He and Tracy’s girls just finished playing an impromptu game of catch. Vickie came up behind him. Facing her now, she had a weird look on her face. It was tragic, and almost haunted.

  “Tracy. You fell in love with her, didn’t you? I think I thought it was just an infatuation with how motherly she was. The antithesis of me. I kind of got that. But I saw it just now, as you were talking to her. She has no idea, does she?”

  He turned away from her. “Vickie. Stop. I don’t love your sister.”

  “Yes, you do. I saw how you were looking at her.”

  “I wasn’t doing anything more than helping her out, as I have all along. And nothing excuses what you were in here doing. Come on. Julia is right out there. So is the entire family.”

  “Yes, all of you judgmental, perfect, wonderful people. Not one I measure up to. Don’t I know it?”

  He shook his head. “That doesn’t excuse this. Feeling inferior doesn’t excuse this. Or feeling superior. I’m not sure really of what you feel. One moment, you’re almost laughing at me for how I hold down a job, pay your bills, and take care of you and our daughter, and the next you’re down on yourself for not being all those things. Which is it? Which do you want, Vickie?”

  She hurled the flask at him. It hit his chest and dropped on the carpet with a little “tink.” “It’s all of it. I don’t know. I don’t know who I am, or what I want, or why I can’t stop drinking. One moment, I want you and Julia, and the next? I wish you’d both just go away and leave me alone. Let me have some fun. Let me breathe. So I don’t know.”

  He leaned over and picked up the offending object. “And this helps?”

  “Yes. It helps me. Approve or not, but it helps me.”

  She pushed past him towards the family. She was still able to stand. He was glad he caught her before she got totally out of control.

  Love Tracy? What did Vickie think she saw? And if she suspected that, why did she only show a token annoyance? A small flurry of anger? Why didn’t she go bat-shit insane with rage? Or start yelling and screaming at him? He’d seen her lose her cool in extreme ways over their short history together, and over things that were much less inflammatory. Yet the latest revelation evoked barely a mild, feather-ruffling for her response? He didn’t get it. Not at all.

  He walked over to the window and stared out at his in-laws’ backyard. The family was chatting and talking around a picnic table decorated with happy birthday paraphernalia. The grass was freshly clipped. Jim, Tracy’s damn boyfriend, was playing a game of croquet with Ally and Kylie. Tracy? She was on her knees, embracing Julia after Julia brought a half dozen weeds to Tracy for a bouquet. Tracy pushed Julia’s hair behind her ear and smiled as she kissed the chubby cheek of Donny’s daughter.

  Julia grinned and her dimple showed. She was breathtaking. She looked so much like Vickie, it was almost eerie. There was no denying who her mother was. The problem? Sometimes, Donny wished he could deny it.

  He leaned his head against the glass. Love Tracy? He’d never pursued that level of thought. What was love? What he felt for Vickie? Had he ever been in love with any woman? The thought startled and humbled him.

  Nevertheless, where did that leave them? He and Vickie both had their own glaring doubts about their marriage. Surprisingly, now it wasn’t just Donny. It made him feel a twinge better, and a twinge worse as he gazed at his smiling daughter. She deserved parents who stayed together to raise her, just like his parents did. Being divorced was not what he wanted for Julia. But… what if there was nothing left between him and Vickie? And what did Tracy have to do with any of it?

  ****

  “Trace?”

  Tracy had just entered her house with two bags full of groceries and set them on the counter. Her cell phone ringing, she answered it after juggling the load she carried.

  “Vickie? Is that you?” She wasn’t sure because the voice was loud and sounded strange .

  “I need your help.” Vickie’s words were slurred. Tracy leaned harder onto the counter. Oh no, Vickie was drunk.

  “Where are you?”

  “The bar. My favorite place,” she laughed and added, “I think I need to go home.”

  “Yeah. You do. Okay, Vic, I’ll be there. Can you tell me where?”

  “About a block from Donny’s office, where he’s diligently working. I went there… and we had a fight. Anyway, I came here. It’s on Fourth Street.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Tracy pulled in minutes later and quickly entered the neighborhood bar. It was upscale. A place people met for cocktails and power meetings or dates. Not to get sloshed and stupid at five o’clock in the afternoon. Vickie drooped over the counter. Tracy approached her and placed her hand on her back in a gentle touch. “Hey, sis.”

  Jerking to attention, Vickie’s eyes were heavy and droopy. She pushed back her bangs, which were covering her forehead. “Hey, if it isn’t my favorite sister.”

  Tracy started to gather up Vickie’s purse and coat. Vickie turned the stool she sat on and frowned at her exclamation over her favorite sister. No, Tracy wasn’t. Gretchen was Vickie’s favorite. What was that all about?

  Tracy held Vickie up. Vickie kind of f
lopped around and could barely hold onto Tracy’s shoulder. Tracy somehow pulled, dragged and urged her out to the car. She set her in the passenger seat where Vickie curled up into a semi-ball. With a sigh of regret, Tracy shut the door and started the car. She took her to her own house. Pain stabbed Tracy’s chest as she realized how badly she did not want Vickie to be like this again.

  She went around the car after parking in her driveway, opened the door, and put her hands on Vickie’s shoulders. Vickie’s head lolled in response.

  “Vickie, honey? Help me get you in. I don’t want to leave you out here alone.”

  No response.

  “Vickie! Vickie, honey, come on, wake up!”

  Vickie’s head turned towards her and her eyes fluttered open. Her eyelids were barely open, and the whites of her eyes were very bloodshot. “Tracy?”

  “Yes, I came and got you, remember? You went to a bar. Bad idea. Now come on, I want to help you get inside.”

  Vickie barely seemed coherent, but finally dropped a heeled foot outside. Then the other. She stood awkwardly and Tracy struggled to get her shoulder under Vickie’s before she attempted to act like her crutch. Stumbling through the front door, they slowly made it up the stairs and into the guest bed where she and Vickie crash-landed together. Tracy started to crawl up onto her knees when Vickie flopped over suddenly. She covered her eyes with the inside of her wrist.

  “He loves you, you know?”

  Tracy, in the process of scooting off the bed, froze. “What?”

  “Donny,” she slurred more slowly. Tracy could smell the pungently strong odor of her breath from three feet away. “He’s in love with you. That’s why we fought.”

  She gasped and came closer to Vickie. “No. No, he’s not. He loves you. He’s married to you. You’re just upset right now.”

  “I’m drunk. Not stupid. He’s in love with you, not me. He never was. Why do you think I got pregnant with Julia?”

  Her eyes were at half-mast, but open. Tracy’s own eyes filled with tears. “Stop. Okay? None of that matters. Only you matter. We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”

  “No hope. For me. He deserves better. He deserves you. He should have always been with you. Not me.”

  Tracy’s heart constricted and she threw her arms around her little, drunk, incoherent, hurting sister. “I don’t care. We will never be anything but in-laws. Do you hear me? I would never do that to you.”

  “You should. I would. I would do that to you if things were reversed.”

  “Vickie. That doesn’t matter. Not right now.”

  She suddenly turned on her side, grabbed Tracy’s hand, and stared wide-eyed into Tracy’s eyes. “They are better off without me. Julia? Donny? They are both better off without me.”

  “No. No. No.” Tracy’s eyes filled with tears as she touched Vickie’s face. “They would not be better. No one would be better without you. I love you, Vickie. I won’t let you talk this way. I already lost one person I love. I will not lose you. Do you hear me?”

  “Micah. Fuck him, Trace. He’s a douche bag. You always thought you were so lucky to have him. You weren’t. He was lucky. He was slimy and manipulative. He hid things from you. He let it appear as if he was doing you a favor by being with you. Fuck that. Honestly? He was a lot like me. You just never saw it. Not until it was too late. I did. I knew you’d never believe me. He was only a good person to you, and with you. He hid the bad things he did from you. He was never good enough for you. He was lucky to kiss the ground beneath your feet.”

  She pushed a hand to Vickie’s forehead and brushed the hair back, completely shocked by Vickie’s terse assessment. “You’re sweet to say so.”

  “No. I’m not. It’s the truth. He was a low-life, money-grubbing, controlling asshole. The only decent thing about him was your influence. I hoped he’d change over the years. But he finally couldn’t maintain the façade, could he? He finally showed you exactly what he was, a coward. Just like me. This is who I truly am.”

  “It’s not. It’s only a part.”

  “Micah’s a douche bag. But Donny’s not a douche bag.”

  “Well, no. He’s not.”

  “He’s loved you for awhile. He doesn’t intend to do anything about it. Ever. Why? Because he’s not a douche bag. The thing is, Trace, I am. I’m a douche bag. I use and abuse and I don’t think twice about it. I seduced him, fully intending to get pregnant. And now? Now I want out too. It’s too much. All of it. Just trying to be a wife and mother, and now he keeps asking me to work, or something just as awful. And my reaction upon learning my husband is in love with my sister? I don’t know if I care. I haven’t tried to become a better wife, or show him why he should stay with me. I just try to trick him more often using better strategies.”

  Tears fell from Tracy’s eyes and wet the pillow below her. Vickie’s eyes were squeezed shut and her voice was foggy and slurred. Still, Tracy’s heart swelled with love, tenderness and protection for her broken, messed-up, alcoholic sister. There were no words to answer her sister other than to deny the obvious. “You are not a douche bag.”

  “I am,” she insisted. “The thing is, I’m tired of trying to get better. I don’t think I can do it, Tracy. You know, be a mother. Or a wife. A grownup. I can’t stay sober. I can’t be what Donny and Julia need or want or deserve.”

  Tracy wiped her tears. “You don’t have to change in order to deserve your husband. You deserve him just for being alive and being here. You deserve to have love too, hon.”

  “No. You are what Donny deserves.”

  Tracy recoiled at hearing those words. She petted Vickie’s head and tucked it against her shoulder, shushing her softly. She could not sit there listening to Vickie let go of Donny out of guilt and agony for her own failings. No. No way. Never. She and Donny simply shared a misguided attraction that was inadvertently created by life’s similar circumstances.

  Vickie fell into a troubled sleep. She tossed and turned and talked, her foul breath often blasting over Tracy’s face. Tracy held her drunken, little sister, vowing as she rubbed Vickie’s back, to find some way to help Vickie fight her demons and control the beast of her disease. Tracy intended to now become the sister she should have been all along.

  And maybe Vickie was right. Perhaps, Tracy never fully saw the entire picture of Micah. She never fully embraced what her husband was. He did control her. He was manipulative. He was a crook. He did love her. He was more than what she chose to see. Just as Vickie said, they were both complicated and messy and hard. However, instead of seeking the unattainable, maybe Tracy should have started accepting Vickie for exactly who she was. Faults and all, perhaps Tracy should have allowed Vickie to just be real.

  ****

  The terrible things Vickie said kept swirling through Tracy’s brain. Over and over and over again she went through the scenario that Vickie was painting. Donny having romantic feelings for her? Did Vickie just suspect that? Or did she know for sure? No! There had never been a conversation between Donny and Vickie about him having feelings for Tracy. No. It just could not be.

  But, what if it was?

  The thought sickened her now as she stood in the doorway to her spare room and stared at her little sister, passed out on the bed. Had she done that to her sister? Her stomach was in knots and cramped at the thought. Her entire insides twisted up in pain. What if she were responsible for Vickie’s relapse? The guilt Tracy felt was deep, swift and piercing. She would do anything to fix it. To undo it. What could she do? If she were responsible, there was no undoing it now. Vickie had broken her sobriety.

  Furthermore, Vickie and Donny were fighting about her? She hated that thought. She couldn’t stand it. She moved closer to her snoring sister. Her mouth was wide open and her snoring was an alcohol-induced deep buzz. Her hair was all messed up and her outfit had ridden up her legs, as her knees were bent at an odd angle. Tracy touched Vickie’s face, and tears gathered in her eyes.

  She loved Vickie. There was no doubt of that.
As she sat there staring at her drunken, snoring sister, her heart filled with regret and hurt and fear. She feared losing her sister now, for multiple reasons. To alcohol. And because of what Vickie suspected about Donny and her.

  Never. She would never betray her sister for a man she barely had a relationship with. They had a connection born of hardships neither of them expected, or were adept at dealing with. Their connection was not real, and it would never come at the cost of her sister. She straightened her spine and made the decision then and there. Vickie’s snores filled the room and Tracy’s heart finally released the strange feeling of fear that previously consumed it. She adamantly refused to lose her sister.

  She went downstairs and immediately called Donny, who was still at the office, the place she just left just hours before.

  He answered with a brisk, “LCC.” There was no hi, or how may I help you? He wasn’t very good at telephone protocol.

  “It’s Tracy.”

  She heard his chair squeak, which it did anytime he leaned back in it. He only did that when he was taking a break, either on the phone or in person. She could picture it without shutting her eyes.

  “Hey. Forget something?”

  “No. You need to come here. It’s Vickie. I hate to tell you this, but—”

  “She’s drunk?”

  Tracy jerked to attention. “Well, yes? How did you know? I thought it would be devastating and new. You mean it’s happened recently?”

  His sigh was long and weary. “Yes. Three times, that I know of.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Mom? Dad? Any of us! She’s my sister. And their daughter. How could you not tell any of us?”

  “Because after each time, she started attending her meetings again and promised she would keep at it. That it was only a minor slip-up. She is sober enough to decide who can know and who can’t. But I can’t go on being her keeper.”

  “Yes, you can. You must. You’re her husband. Damn it, Donny, just because you’re mad at her for not being a tidy, organized, interesting wife and mother does not give you the right to ignore her problem. It’s a disease. I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell us.”