She entered her bedroom and heaved a sigh, eyes closed, picturing the feel of the cool sheets on her bed and what a relief it would be to climb into them. The past three hours had drained her mental and emotional resources and she was looking forward to a quiet night.
But there was a surprise waiting for her when she opened her eyes.
“Gah,” she said unintelligibly, smacking her hand on her mouth to stop herself from making more loud noises. “Mother, what are you doing here?”
“Geet what are you doing?”
She rolled her eyes and ignoring the pearly-white floating form of her mother, went into the bathroom to wash her face. Her mother, however, did not acknowledge the boundary of the closed door.
“You can hardly run away from me Geet.”
“Mother I need to pee. Do you mind?”
“Fine,” she said reluctantly as she floated out of the closed door. She waited on the bed, not on her daughter’s side obviously, she wasn’t a monster.
She did not speak until Geet had settled into her bed and closed her eyes. “What are you going to do about Romi?”
Groaning in defeat, Geet sat up and rested her back on the headboard. “What do you mean?” She refused to meet her mother’s eye.
“Geet…you know exactly what I mean.”
“Did you expect me turn her away?”
“You know it’s not that simple,” tutted her mother.
Huffing, she laid down again, adjusting her blanket. It was so horribly tangled between her legs, she had to get up and re-spread it. This time, she turned to face her mother who was glowing in the darkness. She did know what her mother was talking about.
Romi…Romi was the person everyone loved, hovered around, complimented, and adored. They thought rainbows came out of her arse and ambrosia every time she opened her mouth. Geet knew she was sounding like a jealous younger sister but the truth was, Romi could do no wrong. She was a force of nature and had everyone wrapped around her perfectly manicured hands.
And then there was Geet. Nerdy, kind, quiet Geet who was dependable, responsible and too intelligent for her own shoes. No one looked at her twice. She was a-okay with that. Romi could have the limelight. Geet was happy in her world.
But the problem…the problem was Romi had a tendency to fall into trouble a little too easily. And the person more often than not picking up the pieces was Geet.
“I thought you’d be happy your daughters are getting along.”
Her mother snorted. “There is a reason child that you are stuck with me.”
“Mother please, we both know Romi would scream, faint and ignore you if you ever went to her.”
Her mother laughed. It sounded hollow, like the wind wheezing past an empty elevator shaft. “Geet don’t let her ruin all the progress you have made.”
Geet turned on her back, staring at the ceiling. Romi was a taker after all and none of their mother’s fears were baseless. As children, it had been difficult to get out of Romi’s shadow. Maybe she hadn’t tried that hard – she really did hate the limelight. But she had been trying to create her own little light on her side of the stage.
As much as she hated to admit it, her mother was not wrong.
“I promised her mommy,” she said in a small voice, “I promised her I’ll always be here.”
Her mother studied her. If ghosts could cry, she would have had tear-stained cheeks.
Romi’s troubles were always spectacular. This time it was a failed relationship, a relationship Geet had warned Romi about. The result had been a complete cut-off in communication for six months.
Until yesterday.
When Romi turned up on her doorstep, a bag in hand, eyes and nose red, shaking as if she had faced a storm.
Maybe she had. The relationship had gone exactly as Geet had predicted. But there was no sense of victory in the I told you so. In fact, it hadn’t even been uttered. Geet had simply hugged her sister, opened her door wider to allow her in, made her tea, fed her some cold pizza, and put her to bed.
“You were always too good to her.”
Geet shrugged, murmured a goodnight and turned away. She appreciated her mother’s ghost having her back. Even then, she knew one thing. No matter what, she’d always have her sister’s back. Because that’s what families did.
Written as part of Blogchatter’s #MyFriendAlexa.
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tales of Suchita 
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