Through my eyes, my sister Lisa had it all. She was beautiful, with a perfect figure, shiny blonde hair and an amazing, committed boyfriend, Harry.
I’d always been jealous of Lisa while growing up, always wondering why I had not been blessed in the way she was. Compared to her, I was ordinary. I had ordinary hair and an even more ordinary figure – and, of course, I had no boyfriend to speak of.
Despite my jealousy, my sister was lovely towards me and often invited me out with Harry and herself. On one of these outings at the local nightclub, Lisa stood on a piece of glass and cut her foot. Not wanting to ruin Harry’s night or mine, Lisa said she’d catch a taxi home alone and insisted we stay and enjoy ourselves. That’s the sort of person my sister is – kind and considerate.
Harry and I partied on until the early hours of the morning, drinking more than we should have and spending far too much money. When we finally decided it was time to go home, we realised we only had enough money for one taxi fare. I suggested we share the trip to my place and I’d drive him home in the morning.
As soon as Harry hit my couch he fell fast asleep. I removed his shoes and shirt and then covered him with a blanket. Suddenly, in a silly moment of lust, I found myself wriggling in between his arms, imagining that he was my boyfriend as I fell into a deep, drunken sleep.
The next morning I awoke to find Harry frantically pacing the room. Not remembering much about the night before, he pleaded for me to tell him what had happened. With one look I confirmed his worst suspicions. Letting him think we’d made love seemed less embarrassing than admitting to my little fantasy.
Confused and shocked, Harry quickly left. I remained sitting in the same spot on the couch as the realisation of what I had just done dawned on me. I knew there was no way to undo what I had just done.
An hour later I received a phone call from my sister, who was crying hysterically. Between sobs, Lisa told me that Harry had just broken up with her. “All he said was that it wasn’t working,” she cried.
I couldn’t believe it. Harry had chosen to break both her heart and his own, rather than break up my whole family with what he’d supposedly done.
Six months on, Lisa’s still deeply confused and upset, and wonders what she did wrong to ruin the relationship.
I can only hope she never finds out what really did – or didn’t – happen that night.
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