Dancing Is A Dangerous Game

Shake It Off

"Lily!"

I try to negotiate the banging on my door and the yells of my sister. 

"Lily! Get out of your fucking bed!" 

Her sharp voice makes my ears bleed and my head ache. Normally I am a happy, kind, romancing person. But the moment I heard that voice this morning, I let go of my there's-a-good-side-to-everything-philosophy. That girl really knows how to ruin my mood. It might be my own fault that I feel horrible right now, but I don't want to blame myself, so she'll have to pay for it.

"What is your problem!" I yell back. She responds with a short huff and a few curses. How I love her rich vocabulary. 

"If you don't get your hungover ass in here in three seconds, I swear to Lucifer, I wi-," she stops her sentence the moment I get out of my room. She lets out a small giggle, followed by a scream and a full laughout session. I guess I deserve that for my behavior yesterday. 

"You really live up to your name, Lilith," she cackles. I was named after the demonic first wife of Adam, Lilith.  She was killed by God because she was too independent. To get back at him, she killed her children. My lovely feministic mother interpreted that as a freefought woman and thought that my name would have a beautiful meaning. We have different opinions. The same happened to my sister Penelope. She was named after Odysseus' wife. When we were three, we both decided that our unofficial names were Lily and Penny, and that's how we've been called ever since. Our mom was fine with it since she thought it was adorable for twins. Lucky us. 

My sister is looking at me from the other side of our small kitchen with a big smirk on her face. I consider slapping it away, but then I remember my situation. The hangover. The stiff muscles. The headache. The nausea. Oh god, the nausea. I run to the bathroom as fast as I can, just in time to throw up my insides in the toilet. This really is a great start to the day. 

When I have washed my face and go back to the kitchen, I see Penelope stirring in a pot. "I'm making you a hangoversoup, as long as you can keep it in," she nods to the bathroom as I thank her with my eyes. That's what happens when you've lived together for 23 years, you start to develop telepathy. She fills a bowl with the steaming hot soup and gives it to me. I accept it eagerly, hoping to relieve the banging in my head at least a little. 

"You know you have to go to class in an hour and a half, right?" Penny looks at me with a worried face. At least the smirk is gone. 

"I know, I know. Do you think I could tell them I'm sick?" 

"You really have to go today, honey," she answers me. I look at her with my best puppy eyes, the ones I keep for special occasions, but it has no effect on her. I  guess that's what you develop too after living together for 23 years, immunity for each others' puppy eyes. I curse myself for drinking so much in the middle of the week, but the party was so good. We went to a party at the apartment of a friend of Penny's. The whole kitchen island was stacked with liquor, also known as my paradise. I don't drink anything that has bubbles in it, so no beer, coke, and sparkling water for me. Because of that, I always go for the strong goods, and I end up beyond wasted. I am blessed to have such a responsible sister who knows herself and when she's drinking too much. I only realise that I drank too much when I fell off a table. Don't get me wrong, she has many toxic traits, but that's just not one of them. 

While I'm slurping on het godly soup, I start to make a to do-list in my head about everything I have to do today. I might go all out on parties, but I'm secretly a controlfreak. I nearly drowned Penny in all my to do-list and agendas when we were in high school. I'm happy we're in a better place now. 

I'll be honest, I quite like my life. I have a fantastic sister who is always there for me, I have a semisupportive family, and I have great friends. I wouldn't wish for anything more. Yes, I would, I'd love less banging in my head, but aside from that, I'm happy. 

When I finish my bowl, I look at my sister. She looks very happy. Happier than she should. I am hurting, so she should too. Back to the happier than other days part, why is she so happy? She has a twinkle in her eyes and a small grin around her lips while she's watering Marcel, our cactus. He's the only survivor of our plant family, and judging by the amount of water she's pouring, he'll be gone too in a few days. 

"Penny," I whine, "why are you so happy?"

"Am I not allowed to? Do I have to be unhappy because you are?" she snaps back. So long for the happiness. 

I ask her again, "No, seriously, you look extremely happy. Is there someone you like?"

 Silence. No answer. I stare at her, trying to figure out what she's thinking, and deep down, I know. That's her lovey-dovey look, the one where she's head over heels.

 I start smiling, "You like someone, don't you? I knew it! I'm so impressed by myself, even with a hangover I can think!" 

"Oh wow, yes, you deserve a Nobel prize." She can really be a sarcastic bitch sometimes, but I like it. It gives her personality an extra dimension. Underneath all the sweetness, there's a little bitch. 

Finally, she gives in, "Okay, okay, I might or might not be seeing someone, but it's none of your business." I knew the staring-like-I-can-see-right-through-her-technique would work. I deserve a prize for that one. 

"Details, sweetie, I want details!" I scream out, probably more excited than she is. That's a difference between us. I'm the more emotional one, she's more down to earth. I don't mean she doesn't have emotions, but she shows them less. She has a better poker face than me and she's better at controlling her emotions. I, on the other hand, am a full package drama queen, without a poker face. 

"Well, she's one year older and her name is Olivia." 

"Oh my god, I'm so happy for you! When are you meeting her? When am I meeting her? Does she have pets? I hope they'll get along with Michelle-" 

"Wow, easy, Lily, this isn't an interrogation. You'll meet her when the time is right, and I'm meeting her in ten minutes, so can you wash the dishes please?"

"Uhm, excuse me! That took a turn. Don't you have a conscience? You're just going to leave your sick-" "Hungover" "-sister alone? To do the dishes?"

"Pretty please?"

"Okay, fine, but bring me a new recipe."

"You order, we deliver. But I really have to go now, Olivia's waiting" she says as she runs to the front door and winks at me. 

I am left in the kitchen with a pounding head and nothing to say.