Sister Shenanigans – Inseparable

Samantha and Margaret had been best friends since the time Sam popped out of her Momma’s belly in the summer of 1976, all pink and squishy, with those rosy cheeks and big blue eyes.  Maggie would sit in the big red armchair at home and hold Sam as much as she could, telling her about her day at preschool and showing her the pictures she had colored.  Maggie was preparing Sam for the hard cold world of boys and the fun they were going to have playing on the swings and running in the fields.  Soon enough Maggie was carrying Sam around on her hip, pacifier in her mouth, golden curls hanging across her face, showing her off to all her friends.  They were inseparable!

Days in the sandbox and wading pools turned into sled rides and building snowmen.  Preschool turned to elementary, middle and then high school.  They double dated together, wore out boys together, joined clubs together. Absolutely nothing could separate them until…. Maggie went off to college. 

Everything changed.  Sam still had two years left of high school when Maggie left for Vermont.  Maggie started making new friends, new activities, setting new goals, and making new plans.  And then she met the man she would marry and that was the biggest change of all.  The two inseparable sisters were suddenly severed.

The loss was bitter.  They both had so many good things happening in their lives, wonderful events to look forward to, but the loss of their sister was nearly unbearable. They languished in silence and moved forward, stepping into their careers, marriage, and motherhood.  They visited several times a year and soaked up all the time they could with each other when they were together. 

They even snuck away a couple of times over the years to have a sister’s weekend.  It really didn’t matter where they went.  They could have stayed in a cardboard box in Timbuktu for all they cared.  All they needed was pajamas, a bottle of wine, snacks and each other. They laughed from sunup to sundown reminiscing and telling each other new stories of their families.  They were still so much alike.  They thought alike, lived alike, reacted alike.  They were still those same little girls only in big girl bodies.

Soon their children were raised and on their own, grandchildren filled their lives and visits were more and more frequent.  The bonds grew stronger and their mischievous ways came back with even more force than in their youth, most likely because mom and dad were no longer there to scold them. 

Like the time they met halfway between their houses in a Podunk town called Jasper for a quick girl’s weekend.   They decided to take on personas of famous writers from Russia. The only problem? Neither of them knew a word of Russian, and their accents were entirely based on old movies.  They made  their debut at a small Italian restaurant on the south part of town.

“What would you like to drink, ladies?” the waitress asked.

In their best accents, they ordered wine and studied the menu. When she returned, they intentionally butchered their orders.

Sam squinted at the menu.
“How you say…Lo sog no?”

“Lasagna,” the waitress replied.

“Yes, yes. I take the Lo sog no and Gor lok bred.”

Then it was Maggie’s turn.
“I take the noot als with the, uh…how you say…crem.”

“Cream?”

“Yes, crem. And the, uh…” I flapped my arms like a chicken.

“Chicken?”

Yes, yes – noot als, crem and chicken

“Yes, yes. Noot als, crem, and chicken.”

“Chicken Alfredo?”

“Yes. I guess I take that.”

The waitress hurried away, terror flickering in her eyes.

They  held it together until she disappeared into the kitchen—then collapsed into silent, shaking laughter, nearly peeing themselves.

They left a generous tip for all the trouble they had caused and giggled their way down the cobblestoned sidewalk. Maggie began telling a story about a trip she and Marty once took to New York City. Apparently, they had gone to a high-end restaurant, and Marty decided they should order oysters as an appetizer—even though he had never tried them.

When the oysters arrived, Maggie showed him how to slide one off the shell, straight into your mouth, and down your throat. Evidently, Marty hadn’t been paying attention. When it was his turn, he slid the oyster into his mouth and began to chew. And chew. And chew.

His eyes started to water, panic crossing his face. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he began to gag as if he were about to throw up. Instead of helping, Maggie scooted away from the table. Everyone in the restaurant stared as Marty, in a moment of fierce determination, swallowed the oyster and—

WHACK!!!

Right in the middle of her story, Maggie walked straight into a parking meter. The clang was so loud that someone on the sidewalk rushed over to see if she was okay. That sent Sam and Maggie into the loudest, longest laughing fit, which lasted all the way back to their hotel. There, they slipped into their pajamas and collapsed onto the beds.

They opened the screw-top wine they had picked up earlier at the corner store and poured it into the paper coffee cups provided by the hotel. Maggie finished her NYC story, and the two of them gossiped, laughed, giggled, and cried until 2:00 in the morning, when they finally passed out in the same bed—snuggled up just like they had been as little girls.

Life couldn’t get better than this.