One room away. One plaster wall that’s painted yellow on my side and purple on hers. One door. That’s how far I am from my fifteen-year-old sister, Maya. The person I have known her entire life. The person that I argue with the most, but also the person I trust the most in the world. Tears, profanities, and life experiences have been shared between us, and our relationship dynamic is pretty unique. Raging arguments are our main form of communication, but underneath that, she’s my true best friend. She’s the one that I will turn 80 with. She’s my rock, and I feel as though I take that for granted sometimes.
In less than a year, the 10 feet that separate us will turn into 25 miles as I move away to college. We will inevitably grow apart, and it breaks my heart. It makes me feel horrible that I do not typically walk 10 feet down the hall to see her most days. I am always so absorbed in myself and my own problems, and I am too lazy to walk to her room to say hello.
When it comes to driving to school, all my friends come alone. Their siblings are not in high school yet. So when school ends, I want to be just like them and leave as fast as I can. Some days, I leave school alone, but other times I have to wait for my sister. This wait of only three to five minutes feels like hours as people pour out of the school, walking past me. I get so impatient and wish that I had gone to school on my own. However, as this year has gone on, I’ve realized that even when I do leave school fast and alone, just like my friends do, I feel empty. The empty space on the bare beige passenger seat makes my stomach drop. I love driving alone and blasting my music as much as I want, but I miss her. I like having her in the car with me, even if we don’t speak, even if she trashes my music taste, and even if we are both in a bad mood.
One night, about two years ago, while we were vacationing in Portugal, we saw each other in a different light. We had eaten dinner at a fancy seafood restaurant and sat outside. Our table was on a deck that sat on the cobblestone street. The air was warm yet crisp, and the moon was glowing full. I’m not sure how it came up, but right after we finished eating, my sister mentioned that she didn’t want to become a frail, elderly woman one day. We both agreed that we wanted to stay young forever, but it was inevitable that we would turn 80. I’m not exactly sure why 80 was the number we chose, but that moment sparked something inside of us. I had never thought about what life would be like when we became old ladies, in the sense that our parents would no longer be with us. The second this thought crossed my mind, I burst into tears and told Maya what I was sad about. Then we both began to sob. Ever since we were young, we have been mistaken for twins, and we are often told how lucky we are to have each other. Most days, we don’t think about each other in that sense, but in the long run, each other is all we have. Our friends, boyfriends, and spouses will come and go, but we will always be there for each other.
Although we argue like crazy right now, I hope that we will grow out of it soon. We are completely different people, but I think that as we become adults, our disagreements will dissolve. I am a cheerleader and a gymnast, while Maya is into physics and aeronautics. We often compare ourselves to each other, which fuels the fighting. The fact that I do not take honors math or enjoy physics does not make me any less smart. Similarly, she doesn’t like to dance or go to school sports games. Interestingly enough, school is the thing we fight about most. She has straight A’s, and she claims to never have much homework, while I have an occasional B+ and am always struggling to balance all of my work. For the record, I’m smart, too. I take AP Biology—in your face, Maya :).
On second thought, maybe we will continue to argue, but hopefully less.
