Three Years, Five Months and Eleven Days

Chapter Twenty-Eight

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     I giggled hysterically. ‘Isha! You’re so funny, how did you learn to be so funny?’

    We were in a park and the sun was shining, and I felt warm and happy. The girl in front of me was Isha, but not. She didn’t look like Isha, she looked exactly like Pocahontas, and Isha didn’t quite resemble Pocahontas that much. But a part of me knew this was Isha.

     We were lost in time, in this park, forever happy, never serious. I entered a house I didn’t recognise, and there in the blurry living room was Michael. His face lit up when he saw me, literally, it was like a light bulb turning on behind his face. He was very close to me, smiling.

     He kissed me and I lost my sense of self, I wasn’t me anymore, I was just a conscience floating joyfully, filled with lust. When he moved away I was myself again.

     ‘That was wonderful,’ I told him, but my ears didn’t hear the words. His eyes told me he heard.

     Beth waltzed in, stunning and beautiful as ever, a woman tall and strong.

Suddenly I was a child again. Big brown eyes, small hands, a dress that was covered with dirt, hair short and wild.

     ‘Debby, lets hang out,’ Beth said, but it felt like a command. She reached out for my hand and took it, but it slipped straight out, because it was minuscule compared to hers. ‘Debby, your hands need to be bigger!’ she yelled.

     Everything disappeared apart from her and she carried on reprimanding me. ‘Debby I can’t believe you’re so short, look at the size of you. God you have tiny feet! You don’t understand because you haven’t started your period yet; you’re not a woman.’ She grew taller over me as I grew smaller, until she was a giant and all I could see what her huge feet. But I could still hear her. ‘Wow, someone has small boobs. It’s because you’ve never had a boyfriend. You won’t have learnt about that yet, you’re too young.’

     Then I was awake.

     I mused over my dream for some time. All the things Beth had said to me in my dream, she had said at some point in the years I’d known her. The thing I had wanted most in my life was to grow up. Every time she had said something of the sort, I had added it to my list of things to wish for.

     My whole life I waited for the day when I would be taller than her.

     Every day from when Beth started her periods at thirteen, till two years later when I was twelve and mine came, I prayed that it would be the day when I could finally be a woman in Beth’s eyes. From the day Beth started wearing bras, I urged my breasts to grow.

     Now that I was almost fifteen I had over taken her in every possible way: I was taller than her, I had bigger boobs than her, I had developed younger and quicker than her, I’d had many boyfriends and she had had one, I got better marks than her at school, I was very popular, whereas she was just your normal sociable girl.

     All these things had begun with Beth. Beth drilled this wish into me to be better, to be older, to be more mature. And I hated it.

     Now that I had achieved as much as I could, without actually doing the impossible and becoming older than her, surely I could let go of those wishes?