Two Sisters

by Jeffrey Anderson

bordered by three-story Georgian brick buildings with regularly spaced divided-lite windows. There were only a handful of people strolling on the sidewalk that bordered the lawn and nobody else lying out in the sun. She felt very much on display and not at all comfortable with the feeling. Though the people walking by showed little obvious interest in the sisters on their blanket, there was no telling how many people might be watching from behind those innumerable windows. She looked down at Brooke, now lying on her back with her head propped on a folded towel and sunglasses over her closed eyes. Her lips were moving quickly, no doubt accompanying whatever was playing on the stereo (and who knows how loudly!). Brooke’s skin was beautifully tanned and toned; and there was a lot of it showing, the bikini top barely covering her small breasts and the bottoms tied in bow knots at the sides and exposing more than several inches of skin below her navel. This all would’ve been normal at the beach, amidst hundreds of other sun worshippers; but alone on this quad in the middle of a college campus?

  Brooke sat up suddenly and tugged at the hem of Leah’s shorts. “It will be dark before you lie down,” she said from behind her sunglasses.

  Leah looked at her doubtfully.

  “Take off your shirt and lie on your stomach. I’ll rub some oil on your back.”

  Brooke knew which buttons to push. Leah loved having tanning oil rubbed on her shoulders in the sun more than anything in the world, dating back to her childhood. She pulled her T-shirt over her head, tossed it to one side, lay down on her stomach, and closed her eyes. As Brooke drizzled oil on her shoulders and back, Leah swore she could smell salt in the air, feel sand beneath the two layers of cloth. Those imagined sensations combined with the real and heady aroma of the tanning oil and the gentle pressure of Brooke’s fingers and hands on her shoulders and back quickly slid Leah into a trance. She freely dismissed her inhibitions and slid into the dream, wholly trusting Brooke to safeguard her.

  With Leah dozing, Brooke felt free to subtly, or not so subtly, entice the occasional passing male with her long legs and alluring body. A few that she knew from class or parties diverted from the sidewalk and walked over to talk with her. They seemed especially interested in the gorgeous blond lying beside her on the blanket. Brooke would put her finger to her lips and whisper, “Keep it down so we don’t wake her—rough night last night. She’s my sister and too young for you anyway.”

  The guys would say something like, “Doesn’t look too young” but then go on to talk about the coming night’s parties or the football team’s chances in their road game at Virginia. Brooke was glad for the sunbathing companion but also glad she didn’t have to explain Leah’s condition.

  Leah for her part sensed people—males, she knew, from their mix of body odors—coming and going from slight movements in the air and vibrations on the ground but was more than happy to leave the entertaining to Brooke while she rested within her fantasy. For most of the two hours they were out there she was either dozing or halfway there. But near the end of that period, White Horse asked from his white world, “Have not seen you much lately.”

  Leah replied, “I hardly noticed.”

  “You knew,” White Horse said.

  Leah laughed. “How come you know me so well?”

  “Because I am inside you. You cannot hide anything from me.”

  “I do not want to.”

  “The why did you say you did not know?”

  Leah paused at that. “I do not know. It was just something to say. Really, I have missed you.”

  “Then come around more often. I am always here. They are always here.” White horse gestured to the pod of white dolphins cresting out of the white sea reaching to the white horizon.

  “I lost you for a while. I am sorry.”

  “We are sorry for you. We have missed you. This is your home.”

  Leah nodded. “I know. But sometimes I forget how to get home. Sometimes I get lost out there.”

  White Horse nodded. Something sparkled around his neck. Did he have a harness with bells? “You need your sister to feel safe.”

  Leah nodded then asked, “Always?”

  White Horse nodded again. “But you can take her with you even when you leave her.”

  “How do I do that?” Leah laughed. She thought the idea humorous—Brooke in a suitcase, the little travel case that Momma had helped her pack this morning, accompanying her wherever she went.

  White Horse said. “You will figure it out. We will help you.”

  Leah looked past him. There were the dolphins, standing on their tail fins, and ponies, elephants, zebras without stripes, gazelles—all white, arrayed around her in legions, watching only her, caring for her, at the ready. She felt profound assurance in those attentive companions. She hoped she wouldn’t stay away so long next time.

  Once the sun slid below the tall maple and left them in afternoon shade, they folded up their towels and blanket and headed back up to the dorm suite. The dorm tower, like the Quad and most of the campus, remained thinly populated, with most of the students either away for the weekend or engaged in off-campus activities. This was a far cry from the jammed sidewalks and general bustle of the move-in weekend, where the sheer chaos unsettled Leah and left her wondering if she could ever attend college. But in this calm, and escorted by the confident and savvy Brooke, college life appeared not only manageable but attractive. Why wouldn’t she want to partake of all these opportunities if the demands and lifestyle weren’t overwhelming? Then she recalled that she’d been stymied in making friends at high school. How could she ever hope to survive, let alone thrive, on a college campus?

  The suite was still empty though there was a note on the door from MaryJo, saying she’d stopped by to pick up some clean clothes and that there was a cookout at her boyfriend’s frat house. Brooke pulled the note off the door and tossed it in the trash. “We’ve got other plans,” she said.

  She gave Leah a spare robe and flip-flops for getting to and from the showers, then led her to the floor’s bathroom with its toilet stalls and sinks along one long wall and its showers opposite. Leah looked at the arrangement doubtfully, wondering again if she were cut out for college life.

  Brooke laughed. “I cleared out the spiders and snakes just this morning. It’s safe now!” She pushed open a shower door to show Leah the anteroom with its bench and clothes hooks, with the shower stall beyond separated by a plastic curtain. “See? Clean enough!”

  Leah shook her head but trudged into the niche and closed the door behind her.

  Brooke thought, Be careful of the hot water! But she realized it was too late and wouldn’t force open the door to tell her. Leah would have to figure that one out for herself.

  After they’d showered and combed out their hair while standing side by side at adjacent sinks, then dressed in what was standard-issue campus wear for the season—jeans and bold-colored flannel shirts and clogs with socks—they took the elevator to the dorm’s courtesy kitchen in the basement. The day before Brooke had brought in all the ingredients and supplies needed for them to make their signature Fulcher-sister dinner—lasagna, tossed salad, garlic bread, and brownies with vanilla ice cream. The kitchen had plates and silverware and mixing bowls and utensils. Brooke had bought aluminum baking pans for the lasagna and brownies.

  She pointed out their supplies, labeled with her name, in the fridge and on the counter. Then she looked at her watch. “We’ve got an hour till company arrives,” she said. “Time to hop to it!”

  Leah marveled for just a second at this wonderful facility at their complete disposal, then quite literally “hopped” to it, moving to the fridge with a couple of short two-footed jumps that made her sister laugh.

  Brooke, having elder’s choice, always prepared the meat sauce, boiled the noodles, and mixed up the brownies—the dangerous “hot” tasks. Leah, the junior, was given the “cold” jobs—slicing the block mozzarella (she was very careful with sharp implements), mixing the ricotta filling, assembling the lasagna, tossing the salad
and mixing the homemade vinaigrette dressing.

  Leah had always been happy with her assignments, as they all required attention to detail and final presentation. Between assembling the lasagna and preparing the salad, she took time to set the dining table—a simple plywood table with metal legs and eight folding chairs—for five people, putting the sisters on the side nearest the kitchen and their three guests opposite. She found a fairly clean white cotton tablecloth and five red cloth napkins in a closet of randomly mixed supplies, and managed to put together five settings of matching plates and stainless from a mish-mash of dinnerware in the cupboard. At the last minute she put together a centerpiece that combined a pretty dark blue pottery bowl, four half-burned white candles in a tin holder that sat inside the bowl, and some early turning yellow poplar leaves from the tree beside the dorm’s entry.

  Brooke finished mixing the brownies and poured them into the pan, to go in the oven once the lasagna and bread came out. “Don’t need garlic flavored brownies,” she said to herself before turning to look at Leah’s table. She inhaled a small gasp. “Leah, where’d you find all this stuff? It’s beautiful!”

  Leah grinned. She’d always enjoyed decorating the table for their family’s dinner parties, but that had always been with Momma’s elegant accessories and close oversight. This quick