Page 14 of Body Checking
“Seriously though, I truly don’t remember agreeing to go to the farmer’s market with you at seven a.m. when you know I’m no good until at least nine.” I push my wildhair out of my face and set my phone, face down, on the nightstand.
“Hm. Are you sure? I could’ve sworn I said that last night?”
“Did you say it in your head or out loud?” I ask her and she screws up her face, replaying last night. “Yeah. Thought so. I’ve told you before, babes. Just because you think the words doesn't mean I can hear them. You need to speak them.”
“Smart ass,” she says and plops down on my chaotic bed. “So, what happened that had you talking to yourself? And if you didn’t remember about going to the farmer’s market today, why are you awake so early?”
“Uh,” I struggle to think of a reason why I would be awake this early other than the truth, and my eyes flit to my phone that buzzes.
Sasha hears the rattle and quickly focuses on the phone and then on me. My eyes move from my phone to Sasha, and now we stand in this stare down. As if a starting gun sounds, we both dive for the phone. Our hands battle and slap at the other as we work to take control. Just when I think I have it, something hard and pointed slams into my boob and it has me toppling like a flimsy house of cards.
From where I kneel on the floor –what’s up with me and the floor this morning– I look up to see Sasha chuckling as she punches in the code to unlock my phone.
“You bitch. You busted my boob,” I groan, still rubbing the sore spot.
“Oh hush, you whiny baby. If you had my silicone sack boobs, I may be worried for you. But since you’re au naturale in the titty department, you’ll live.” She crosses her legs and begins scrolling my phone.
“Excuse me, but that is an invasion of my privacy.” I stand and slam the palm of my hand on her forehead.
She falls back on the bed, never losing her grip on my phone that is clutched tightly in her hand as was my plan.
“You’re an invasion of fun. Now be quiet. I need to focus on these texts that had you up so early.” I sigh in defeat and throw myself down next to her.
“Can I at least see what the last text said?”
“Shh. In a minute.” I huff and fold my arms over my chest and wait for her to allow me my phone back.
“Oh, he’s smooth with the flower thing.Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, Mr. Coach.” She uses her best Marilyn Monroe impression to repeat my words.
“I don’t sound like that. Give me my phone.” I snatch it from her hand and search for the lastmessage.
Hammer:What do I have to do to convince you to send me a picture of your gorgeous face to hold me over?
“So the question is, are you going with young and innocent, fresh faced Maren, or are you going to vamp it up with cleavage, curls and red lips?”
“It’s seven a.m., Sasha. Why the hell would I have red lipstick and hair in full curls this early?”
She shrugs and picks at her short nails. “I dunno. Just thought you’d want to give him sex kitten Maren. But I guess girl-next-door Maren works too.”
I grab a pillow and knock her in the face with it before walking towards my bathroom.
“Make sure you run a brush through that mess you call hair,” she shouts as I walk off.
I shake my head then flip on the light and immediately pull back in shock from the reflection that stares back at me. The girl looking at me has puffy eyes, a red crease on her face from where the sheets were adhered to, and a frizzy wild mess that can only slightly pass as hair.
I give myself a nice cool towel to combat the puffiness and sheet crease, a couple of eyedrops to have my eyes looking bright and clear, and add a little hair oil to my frizzy strands then carefully comb through them. The natural waves in my brown hair are tamed and look free and not like I woke up and styled my hair for a photo shoot.
I step out to see Sasha holding a skimpy dress in one hand and my makeup robe in the other.
“Really? Those are my two choices?” I snatch them both from her and put them back where they belong in my closet.
I sort through everything and decide just to be me. I yank my David Bowie t-shirt from the hanger then dig my favorite leggings out from my dresser and slip them both on.
“No bra. Ballsy choice considering your girls fight for attention.” Sasha watches me as I change because we have no shame when it comes to one another.
When you grow up with a person who is more like a sibling, you tend to share everything. Clothes, secrets, homework, but never boys. That’s where we draw the line.
“Says the woman who had to buy hers for attention.” Did I mention that while we love each other, that means we also tear each other down the most.
