“Which is funny, since I rarely thought of her once I got away. Once I didn’t have to watch her easiness, like someone eating a bowl of strawberries and refusing to share, I mostly forgot. Of course I only knew her as a child. Those are my memories. I thought events would not touch my sister, who would always dance over disaster. Or stare it in the teeth the way she did my mother, and defy it. Even as a little girl, I remember her stamping her foot, her tiny fists planted on her hips, a miniature of my mother’s stance, and saying, “No. I don’t want to. I won’t.” She got spanked. I slid along being quiet and obedient and observing. We seemed to have nothing in common. In high school she was one of those swift-footed golden people who knew the steps. But then—then it seemed to me that after I left home, because I worked at school and I was bright enough, or needy enough, to be sent away, the tables turned. The advantage on my wedding day was mine. And she, my bright-haired laughing siste...r, married a young plumber and they bought a little house just three blocks from my parents’, and when Harry and I visited at Christmas I was the one with what they may have thought was a life with some glamour.MoreLessShow More Show Less
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