combat

Fighting with my sister often leads to many things. When we were younger, it usually led to violence. Hair pulling, biting, name calling, slapping, punching, and eventual separation by our exasperated mother.

Last night, it led to my sister dumping her full glass of water on my lap. The minor transgression was on my part. She had left the room, I sat in her chair, and changed the TV channel. She got mad. Bickering ensued. Fighting escalated and I ended up soaking wet. Suddenly we're 8 and 12 again, and as such, I did what any 12-year-old would do. I told.

She was banished to her room, blaming me, of course, for forcing her to commit the atrocity of saturation.

This happens a lot. Not the water throwing (although it has in the past), but the constant bickering. She resents me, I think, not just for being first, but for encroaching on her territory after being gone for so long. I resent her for saying things to me that I fear are true. "You're lazy, you're worthless, you'll never get a job, I hate you."

The fighting picks up again this morning. Old names are pulled out; brat, idiot, bitch, until I remember that I'm no longer 12 and I roll my eyes and hold my tongue.

My sister retreats to her room, I retreat to my book and things quiet down. She showers and after, comes out to tell me something. I prepare for more fighting and make sure there are no cups of water around.

"I'm done in the bathroom if you need in there," she says. Civil. I nod. A silent truce is called.

I shower and get dressed. I turn on the radio, because 99.9, as they do every year, is playing Christmas music 24-7 until Christmas Day. An echo tells me that my sister is listening to the same station. I walk into her room and pretend to sing along to "O Come all ye Faithful," flailing my arms and making exaggerated singing faces and suddenly all is forgiven.

For now.