✅ My Sister's Problem

94. Uncrossable Lines

"That is very naughty," Mum had said, "but I did make it clear that this punishment does not include being humiliated in front of your school friends. Linda? You're supposed to be setting a good example for the baby, and this isn't it."

"I didn't tell anyone!" she protested. "It was Sally on the phone, when she's not supposed to be."

"It was you who raised your voice to mention diapers, knowing that you would be audible to whoever she was talking to. That is over the top, I think. And I'm inclined to send you to your new school in diapers for a week, so you understand the impact that can have on someone's social life."

"Yeah, but she needs punishing. She's a–"

"Linda Alouette Bernstein!" Mum yelled, and everything froze. If Mum didn't abbreviate our names, we always knew we were on thin ice. But adding one of Lindy's middle names made it absolutely clear that a single step further would lead to disaster. She waited for that to fully sink in before she continued: "I have told you already that trying to embarrass your sister in front of others is unforgivable. That is the point where I would have to ask myself where I went so wrong in your education and ground you permanently, or subject you to the same kind of humiliation so that you can really understand what a big deal it is. Perhaps I should put you in diapers as well before your first day at school, with the little addition that you were so eager to see your sister suffer. How do you think you would feel if you were in that state in front of your friends?"

"I wouldn't–"

"Exactly. You don't want to go through that, it's absolutely intolerable. So what makes you think it's okay to add public humiliation to your sister's punishment? You've tried that twice now, that I know of. And this is your last warning. Sally is getting one week of this punishment for what she did. If either of you thinks that now is a good time to raise the ante, you should think about being in diapers full time until you graduate high school. I strongly recommend that you both learn to stop bickering, accept that some kind of justice has been done, and let it end here. Do I make myself clear?"

Lindy nodded. I wondered how that ultimatum would affect her feelings of guilt. It was turning the issue into a more adversarial one, which might move Lindy's focus away from the consequences of her actions. If she thought more about what Mum would do in response and less about how she was making me feel, she was less likely to experience genuine remorse. But I could see why Mum had felt it necessary to lay down the law in that case, and it made me feel a lot safer.

"So..." I mumbled, after the awkward silence became too much to bear. My words were rendered incomprehensible by the pacifier in my mouth. It had become such a common fixture in the last few days that I barely even noticed that it was there, and I couldn't remember how long I'd been sucking on the thing. That had the potential for so much embarrassment, but it just felt natural, and I wasn't really sure if I wanted to stop it. But I did want to be understood, and to diffuse the tension in the room a little. So I tried to grab the paci out of my mouth, and found my efforts thwarted by the mittens again. Still, it only took a couple of swipes with my hands before I could catch the edge of the thing and knock it aside. "So what we doing today?"

"Ah, such a little baby," Mum said with a sideways grin. "Always looking for something new to entertain her. Well, baby, I thought that we might go to the twine museum. Unless your sister has any other ideas."

That was a response I hadn't expected. I knew there was a twine museum around here somewhere; a place that had some kind of historical background, but was now something like an activity centre, mixing exhibits on the history of twine making with all kids of weird lateral thinking puzzles which were centred around making kids follow a thread, or untangle strands in different colours. I vaguely remembered going there once with Mum and Dad, and finding myself overwhelmed by all the bright colours, sounds, and puzzles that were just a little too hard for me to solve. Of course, that must have been when I was very small, because Lindy hadn't been there. I'd asked to go again a few years later, when I was old enough to read the words on a sign but still young enough to be excited by the memories of that time. But then I'd been a little too old for the exhibits, and even after all my begging to go there I had refused to interact with displays that I arbitrarily decided were too babyish for me; while Lindy hadn't quite been old enough to understand what the puzzles were asking of her. We'd been at just the wrong ages, I guessed, but neither of us had asked to try again in another year.