Sisters

They were sisters now. Not quite twins, but sisters. That’s what Theresa had hoped for. Any make-up amateur understood the anxious process of drawing identical eyebrows on your own face. For Theresa, it was a torturous experience holding the pencil, and making the strokes repeatedly to have the accurate arch, like a natural God-designed eyebrow. As it was difficult for lightning to strike twice in the same place, so was it for Theresa to get the other eyebrow just right. She stared at the mirror and what she had drawn. Today, unlike all other times, the eyebrows looked alike enough to be sisters. She was set.

*

Theresa had been supportive of her mother’s attempt at finding love again. Championed it, even. Her first run with Theresa’s father was less than ideal. Violence had been absent, gratefully, but the unkindness, rife. In the divorce settlement, they had each gotten a child. Theresa with her mother, and Agnes, with their father. It was the main contention of their separation until they both grew tired and settled to have one each, of their 12-year old offspring. All that was 14 years ago, and each child had grown closer to the parent that they were with, but not the one they were without. Even more, not themselves.

Being domiciled in different continents, the two girls did not have much of a bond. When Theresa began the services of a matchmaker, on the journey of finding a worthy and kind grey-haired man for their mother, she’d give updates to Agnes via texts. She’d hoped that they could both be amused by her mother’s attempts at flirting. Even hoped that Agnes would gossip about their father’s new wife with her. But with each attempt, Theresa found herself more discouraged about the possibility of their reunion and bonding. Agnes’ response were polite and distant. Cordial enough for Theresa to not give up, yet not want to reach out in hopes anymore.

She wondered how Agnes coped with it all. Being apart from her and seeming unfazed it by it all. As she struggled to cope with her new reality, many people seemed to find comfort asking Theresa questions she did not quite know how to answer.

“So can you communicate with your sister as she’s in Canada?”

“Are your parents not wicked separating you from each other like this?”

“Do you feel like a part of you is missing?”

Theresa had sent Facebook messages to Agnes in the early days of the divorce. Giving her updates on what the neighbours were up to, asking her if she watched Hannah Montana too in Ontario, how much she missed Daddy’s fried eggs with plenty onions. Agnes’s responses continued to dwindle and dwindle until it became only the yearly birthday messages. With that, Theresa had to become content with being an only child, in the bosom of her mother’s love alone. No more sheltered in father’s love, nor in her sister’s companionship.

*

Her mother had insisted on her wedding being a simple affair. A legal ceremony and then lunch at her favourite restaurant afterwards, with her new husband and his children. She didn’t want a fuss. She just wanted a small, simple, ceremony. And because Theresa had not obliged her request to stay out of her dating life when she was single, Theresa felt she owed it to her mother to at least oblige her this time. Especially since none of her matchmaking schemes had resulted in the woman’s current happiness. Apparently, supermarket meet-cutes worked for the middle-aged as well.

When she walked into the restaurant, she was greeted by the 2 young men who had now become her brothers. ‘Brothers’. Her own. She thought of the other gatherings to come. Where they’d all be seated together laughing and making memories. Inside jokes being formed and to be used overtime. She walked to meet her mother.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I couldn’t leave work early enough as I hoped. How was the civil ceremony? You look so lovely!”

“Thank you”, her mum chuckled. “Have you found your seat yet?”

“No, I’ll go to the table soon. I’ve seen the boys. Where’s your husband?”, Theresa smirked.

“Oh, he’s speaking to the manager trying to get my surprise sorted out.”

Theresa was pleased to see her mother in this state. She hoped that she too would experience the same in due time. But now, she was glad to revel in her mother’s joy with her.

“Agnes kept a seat for you beside her. We didn’t have time to do seating charts and all…”, Theresa’s mother had began to say.

“Agnes is here?”

“Yes, she came”, her mother smiled as she said.

As if on cue, Theresa felt a tap on her shoulder and she turned around to see Agnes.

“How are you?”, Agnes said smiling and pulling her into an embrace.

“I’m okay. How are you? I…didn’t know you would be here…I…”

Agnes looked at her amused.

“It’s our mother’s wedding. Of course, I’ll be here.”

She looked at her. Her long braids and the piercings in her ears. Behind it all, Agnes’ shy demeanor was still there. Being in the same room as her after all these years filled Theresa with feelings she did not know how to articulate yet.

They both walked to their seats on the table just as the waiters were placing meals in front of the guests. There was hearty chatter all over the room with Felix Lebarty’s Ifeoma playing in the background. Just as the waiter was placing the plate of rice in front of Theresa, Agnes stopped him.

“Oh no, she doesn’t eat rice. Can you bring her semo instead?”

Theresa looked at her and smiled.

“You remember that I don’t eat rice?”

Agnes laughed. “We’re sisters now. How won’t I know that?”

Theresa smiled again. They were sisters. Not quite “twins”, but sisters. And that was just enough.