(no subject)
“You’re going to kill yourself doing this, you know.”
She peered up through slitted, alcohol-hazed eyes. “Who the fuck invited you into my damn apartment? Last I heard, you didn’t want a damn thing to do with me.”
There was a clatter as a set of improvised lock picks clattered onto the one part of the coffee table not crusted with alcoholic residue or cigarette ash. “Mom taught me a thing or two about interfering.”
She sat up on the couch where she’d fallen asleep in the midst of her self-destructive haze. “You look older,” she mumbled, wishing desperately for the spiky pain in her skull to go away.
“I hear that happens when you age.” A glass of water and two aspirins were pressed into her hand. She growled, but swallowed the pills anyway.
“Bet he’s pleased about that.” She reached out and poked the faint lines at the corner of her sister’s eyes. “Fuck, I need a cigarette.”
“You’ll give yourself lung cancer,” said her sister briskly, sweeping away the full ashtray and half-empty cigarette packet.
“Won’t. That’s the upside, isn’t it? I can do whatever the hell I want to myself, and I’ll still be kicking long after they stick you in the ground. Can’t kill yourself if you don’t die.”
“Stop fooling yourself,” said her sister tartly. “Immortals have died before. Aunt Lindsay for one.”
“Not like I’m sticking a gun to my head.” She turned away. “I don’t need you to pick up after me. I’m not a kid any more.”
“You’re acting like one.” Her sister sighed. “For all that you haven’t aged a damn day since you left, it’s been nearly thirty years since you… left college. You need to move on. Find a damn job. I don’t think divine grace will help you if you fall under a bus one day.”
“You’re just sore because you’re the only one doing any ageing around here. You and Special Kid.”
“I’ll thank you not to call my daughter that.” Her sister sighed. “Why do I even bother?”
“Beats me. Go off and run someone else’s life.” She snagged the cigarette packet from her sister as she passed.
Her sister just sighed. “This is going to end badly for you.”
“Well, when it does, you can say ‘I told you so’ all you fucking well like.” She lit the cigarette and leaned back into the couch, blowing smoke. “Until then, I’m gonna do what I want with my life, and screw what you think.”
“You sound so much like Mom when you say that,” sighed her sister, emptying the ash tray.
“Fuck off.” She jabbed a finger at her sister. “I’m nothing like her.”
“You’re not, really. Mom makes an effort with her life.” Her sister’s face softened. “At least come over for dinner sometimes. She misses you. You haven’t been to visit since the funeral.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” She took another drag on her cigarette. “Don’t hold your breath.”
“It’s not fair,” her sister said abruptly. “You’ve been given all this, and you’re wasting it. Eternity, and you’re having weekend benders in your living room.”
“Life isn’t fair, twin. Never was to me, never will be to you.” She watched the smoke spiral up towards the ceiling.