The Other Side of Me

FourthFridayFiction

One of my favorite Bible studies that I have ever done is by Liz Curtis Higgs called Bad Girls of the Bible.  She is the bomb and I love the way she sets up the study, including a modern fiction piece to explain a Bible story.  I have said that if I ever wrote a Bible study I would format it like that.  That may not happen soon, but what it has spurn me to do is create Fourth Friday Fiction.  One the fourth Friday of the Month, I will post a short story.  I hope these stories inspire you, I hope that sometimes, they make you laugh, and today you will see that your design is not in error.  God writes the perfect story.

A couple of semesters ago, I took a Creative Writing course.  One of the prompts we had was to write a story about the two sides of our personalities; this is mine.

The Other Side of Me

“Let’s everyone give a big ‘thank you’ to Anne and Kelly for all their hard work on this year’s banquet,” the announcer said as he stretched his hand toward the table that we were sitting at, then began to clap. I wanted to crawl under the table and wait out the clapping and cheering, then go back to eating the chocolate soufflé that Kelly had chosen.

While I was sitting there, trying to fade into the taffeta covered chair, Kelly had risen to her feet and begun to wave at everyone. I stifled a giggle, picturing her on top of a float, crown a bit crocked, waving to the crowd in between pushing her sash on her shoulder and blowing kisses.

I turned my attention back to my soufflé as Kelly sat back down.  She laid her arm next to mine and hooked our pinky fingers together, a gesture she had been doing our whole lives. I turned to peer into the gray-blue eyes that looked exactly like the ones I saw in the mirror each morning. The only difference was, when I looked into her eyes, I saw a light, a fire, and a love for life.  When I looked into the mirror, I just saw me.

“We did a great job,” she said as she squeezed my finger before releasing it.  She picked up her fork and started poking at the top of her own soufflé.

“You did most of the work.”

“Annie, that isn’t true and you know it.”

“Sure it is, you booked the venue, hired the caterer,”

We hired the caterer,” she interjected.

I smiled, she was right, we did that together, but it was her confidence that got the company to come down so much on their price.

“You give me too much credit,” I said.

“You don’t give yourself enough.  You need to believe in yourself, take credit for what you do.  You are an awesome planner.”

I wish I had recorded the number of times we’ve had this conversation.  I looked at our hands, again side by side.  Kelly’s nails were painted a bright, glitter pink; they matched her dress. She had a flower ring that resembled something a little girl would wear, but on her it just worked.  My hands were, clean, simple, understated, just like my dress, and just the way I like it.

flower-arrangement-647006

Kelly wrapped her flower-adorned hand around the water glass and took a drink. She looked over my shoulder, then back at me, sat her glass back on the table, and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. She turned in her seat, taking both my hands in hers, causing me to turn as well.

“There is a gentleman heading this way that wants to talk to us about planning a banquet for his company.  He has 400 in-house employees that he wants to honor.  His name is Davis Reed.”

“Okay,” I said, “Handling the clients is your job.”

She smiled then stood, pulling me up with her.  She let go of my hands before pulling me into a hug.  As she held me, I relished in the love of my sister. I watched a balloon come loose from the center piece at the table adjacent to ours, it didn’t bother me that it happened like it usually would have, not now, not here, not with Kelly.

She pulled back, keeping hold of my shoulders.

“Annie, you are a great planner.”

“Whatever,” I said as I rolled my eyes.

She smiled then kissed my cheek. “I quit,” she whispered into my ear then walked away.

I stood there, with my mouth open, watching her dance her way to different people. As I watched her laugh and flirt and love life, I couldn’t help but smile.  I turned, pulled a red rose from the centerpiece and placed it in my hair, just as someone step into my line of sight and extend his hand.

“Miss Wells, I’m Davis Reed.”

Wow, leave me a comment and let me know what you think.  I look forward to your feedback.

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