She Looks Like Aunt Ruby | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: She Looks Like Aunt Ruby | Previous Challenge Entry
By
02/18/15
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Crossing the lobby, I fumble for my keys. The phone demands instantaneous attention while I struggle with the sticky lock – just one of a list of things I wish the council would hurry up and fix. I suppose we should be grateful. Apart from being in a rough estate, the flat itself isn’t too bad and at least provides a roof over our heads.

I check the number. Whatever does she want now?

Amber inhabits an entirely different world to me. Over the years, I’ve learnt that it’s easier to avoid contact with my sister than having my nose rubbed in it. She doesn’t have to say a word – the designer clothes, expensive haircuts and fancy manicures do it for her. Yet her luxury penthouse is only a five-minute bus ride from my council flat. At least missing that call has spared me the bother of having to extricate myself from her bragfest. Having her multimillionaire husband’s latest stellar promotion or their newest luxury acquisition rammed down my throat makes me want to puke.

I pick up the mail and rifle through the usual assortment of red reminders and disconnection threats. There goes my evening, trying to figure out how to pay them. Why me and not Amber?

Now the hall’s peeling paintwork taunts me. It’s nothing to the state of the paintwork in Ellie’s room, which I’m too broke to fix. It drives home my failure as a mother, the only thing I have that Amber doesn’t – yet. The thought of being forced to witness her brat having everything my child lacks makes me twitch. They’ll never hear ‘I’m sorry; Mummy can’t afford it’ like Ellie has to, every day.

I check the caller display again: six missed calls and three messages, all from Amber. Great! Either she’s pregnant or been named ‘Businesswoman of the Year’. Odd, though, that she’s rung that many times. Hesitating, I move my finger from the delete button and hit play instead.

“Amy, it’s me. Could you call me, please?”

Something in her voice doesn’t sound right. Amber was always super-confident. She was Mum’s favourite, probably because she looked like Aunt Ruby, Mum’s sister, who died before we were born. She was always the golden girl who got the best grades, was fought over by the good-looking boys, eventually marrying Brad, the son of a multi-billionaire banker. Family gatherings always became Mum’s arena to announce Amber’s latest triumph. If I were lucky, I’d get a cursory mention, a mere nod to the fact that I was still alive. I got involved in the church, much to Mum and Amber’s disgust. Friends kept me sane and my faith gave me a sense of worth and strength, especially when my husband scarpered on finding out Ellie was on the way, leaving me penniless. He’s never paid a penny of child support, either. Then Mum died, leaving near enough everything to help Amber set up her business while I was barely able to afford nappies.

Tears flowed freely as I’d ask God over and over why I, the one who trusted Him, was kicked down and humiliated every inch of the way whilst Amber painlessly got everything on a plate. How much better life could have – should have – been, if He’d only let me be the one to look like Aunt Ruby.

A bag of nerves, I jump to the next message.

“Amy, it’s urgent. I wish I was strong, like you. Mum and I depended on each other too much, but now she’s not here to reassure me... Please, Sis – I need you... Please call me.”
I never realised looking like Aunt Ruby would turn out to be a poisoned chalice...

Growing alarm for her wellbeing silences jealousy’s muttered hopes that life would wipe the smugness from her face. Ashamed I could think that way about my sister, I quietly pray that nothing terrible has happened.

I wish I’d talked to Amber, instead of letting envy tear us apart. I just hope it isn’t too late.

I send Ellie off to tidy her room before I play the message, just in case. I can barely bring myself to press play.

“Amy, it’s me. Brad’s in Vancouver and won’t leave until his stupid deal is closed. I’ve just been told I’ve got cancer... I’m scared, Sis, so, so scared...”

I take slow, deep breaths. It’s time to do something I should’ve done a long time ago. My trembling hands dive for the handset.

“Amber? It’s Amy...”

Author's note:

Fiction

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