On the forefront of my mind laid the pressing demands of an upcoming music recital. My fingers raced over ivory keys and I glanced at the score sheet attached to the stand atop the piano. My sister sat on the sofa in front of the television, watching some annoying comedy.
White wallpaper adorned with black roses wrapped around the room. Family photographs were scattered about. The one above the piano was my grandfather. He was young in the photo, about thirty, standing shoulder to shoulder alongside his Canadian troop mates. He was a powerful Iranian man, tawny skinned and had a rugged appearance. His beard grew in uneven patches along a strong jaw. I pictured him to be the type of guy that body slammed whoever did him wrong. The narrowing of his eyes showed his determination to overcome the prejudice against aliens- foreign immigrants back in the early 1900s.
Now people from the east were still mocked and treated like dirt; their tormentors egged their homes and spray-painted filthy words onto the doors and windows. But back then, my grandfather had been active during the cold war, struggling against discrimination to become a top army colonel. Unfortunately, after he turned sixty, a heart attack claimed him before he could achieve anything more. We kept his medals in a safe, but it served little purpose for me who had never met the guy. Dad told us stories, but that was all they were. Stories. Grandfather passed away before my parents had me, but my father said that granddad watched over us and gave us the strength we needed to carry on.
Then why did I feel so alone? And if he were watching, what would he think of the things I had done?
It probably disgusted him to a great degree.
I closed my eyes and muttered a silent prayer to get me through whatever hardships I might face in the future. I wasn't very religious, but I believed that God did care about me, and if I asked him something, he would listen. I needed to do a good job at this recital, my parents put a lot of money into my piano lessons. I couldn't betray their expectations. The laughter on the television droned on, breaking my concentration.
"Can you turn that bloody thing down?" I yelled at Juliana.
She shrugged and threw a popcorn into her mouth. "Nope."
"I need to practice."
"Should have done it earlier," she said indifferently. She turned up the volume instead.
"I will kill you," I warned, pushing the piano bench back.
"I'll kill you," she mimicked.
The bench overturned, and I crossed the room in seconds. I jumped on top of her, and the bowl of popcorn was knocked to the ground in the scuffle. The fluffy white particles scattered across the grey tiles. My sister kneed me in the stomach, but I picked up a cushion and brought it down on her head over and over.
"Mom!" she shrieked. "Your daughter is acting up again."
"Mom!" I yelled, "she's killing me."
"What?" said Juliana, outraged. "You attacked me, you asshole."
I stuck out my tongue and she grabbed my ear and started to wring it. I grabbed hers and did the same. "Mom!" we shouted in unison.
My mom wandered into the basement in a purple robe, a charcoal mask painted her face black. Juliana and I froze. My mother sighed, shook her head and said, "Why do I bother? My daughters are animals." She threw her hands up. "Animals. I give up, I'm too old for this. What's the problem now?"
Juliana screamed her case at mother at the same time as me, both of us giving our own versions as to how the fight started and who was in the wrong. "She wouldn't let me practice," I told mom.
Mother nodded. "You should let her practice," she said to Juliana.
Juliana argued, "She jumped on me and attacked me! I was sitting here all innocent, and she had to come with her annoying self and interrupt my TV time."
To me, mother said, "You should let your sister have her peace."
"Exactly," muttered Juliana.
"Now, no more noise, it's time for my afternoon nap," my mother said, "if I hear a peep out of either of you, I'm calling your dad."
The threat worked. I got off my sister and waited until my mom left the room to tell her, "F you."
She replied, "F you too."
I returned to the piano; she returned to her show and the popcorn enjoyed its seat on the floor. The melody of the piano conflicted with the voices from the sitcom. Chaos knocked on my eardrums. I turned to my sister and without any trace of enmity said, "Please turn it down, I have a hard time focusing."
She turned it down.
"Thank you." I went over the refrain for Ed Sheeran, "Perfect", singing the lyrics in my head as I went. Though I'd be singing and playing the song for the final version of the performance, I was in a terrible mood and didn't desire to sing out loud. My left pinky lagged behind the others, and I took a deep breath. I went over the measure a second time and managed to get the right tempo.
I heard Juliana shift on the couch. "Can I ask you something?" she said.
My fingers froze above the keys, and my heartbeat slowed. I had no idea what it could be, but I felt that after the miserable week I had, this wouldn't be a fun conversation. Besides, her tone was serious, and she was rarely serious about anything. "Alright," I answered.
"Did Naomi and Hunter... you know?"
"No, I don't think they did," I replied honestly though it had been a few days since I last spoke to Naomi or attended my classes.
"Hmm, do you think he's big or small?"
"Hunter?"
"Yeah."
"I don't know; I don't think about that kind of thing," I said.
"Okay, so what's the first thing you notice about a guy?"
My mind was blank. I didn't spend a lot of time staring at men. Sure, some of them were good-looking, but I didn't get that feeling around them. The one that made you stop everything you were doing to watch and study them. The one that made you want to hold them in your arms and protect them, kiss from their neck to their waist and sometimes lower... Unable to answer, I turned on her, "Why are you asking this?"
"Can't I get to know my own sister?" her face seemed innocent, but there was a calculative disposition in her erect yet cold posture.
"I just don't think about things like that; let's drop the subject."
She held my gaze; her lips parted, and she smirked. It was the most irritating gesture I had ever seen, and I wanted to throw something at her. She leaned forward and said, "You leave your phone on the bathroom counter whenever you shower, and your password has always been Naomi's birthday."
I knew where this conversation was going. "You had no right to do that." The heat drained from the uppermost part of my body, retreating downwards, further and further.
She clucked her tongue. "You check my phone. I never confronted you about it, but I get suspicious when conversations I have never seen are marked as read."
"Your password is Mom's birthday," I told her.
"So, did you find anything?"
I frowned. Aside from annoying female chatter about cute boys in school and parties, her phone was clean. She had no boyfriend from what I could tell. I asked, "Did you find anything?"
A devilish smile creased her cheeks. "What do you think?"
I thought of the message Cassandra had sent, which I in my absence of mind had yet to delete. Juliana walked over and hugged me. "If you don't want me to tell, then you have to be nice to me. I need you to take me to a party tonight. Thanks, sis. I love you so, so much."