Jess and Jacqueline

Jess was standing with her hands on her hips and staring at her reflection in the full length mirror. The one positioned smack dab in the middle of the hallway, positioned in between the left hallway that led to the bedroom and the bathroom and the right hallway that led to the other bathroom. She was wearing her new leather cowboy boots, but this came as no surprise. She had been wearing them every day since they had been given to her by Rudy. 

Jacqueline was in her bedroom trying on different earrings in front of her vanity mirror. Your top is hideous, she said from the bedroom on the right side of the hallway. I was trying to tell you that this whole time. 

It doesn’t go with the boots, does it. 

It doesn’t go with anything, sis. It doesn’t go with anything. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time. Doesn’t go with anything, that lime green. 

But you told me that the last top was atrocious, too, she said. 

I know I said that, because it was. Both tops are atrocious. 

That top didn’t go with the boots either, did it. 

That’s not the point, sis, Jacqueline said tersely. The boots aren’t the point. Neither of the tops work for you, whether or not you’re wearing the boots. 

The boots are always the point, Jess said, continuing to try different poses in the full length hallway mirror. Looking at the boots from all angles. The boots are always the point, she said again. 

Music from a Japanese orchestral music station was coming from the living room, being played on the television set. Incense was burning on the tabletop. There were roughly ten different coffee cups splayed out on the kitchen counter, and none of the dishes had been washed. 

I can’t imagine us ever having a pet, Jacqueline said. Can you imagine us ever having a pet, sis. The poor thing would die of starvation and neglect in the first few days.

I see what you mean about most pets, Jess concurred. A dog or a cat would be toast with us as owners. Even a pet hamster wouldn’t fare well. But we could take care of a fish, easy. 

We could not take care of a fish, Jess. 

We could too take care of a fish, Jess said, continuing to check out her beautiful new leather boots. A fish would be fine. 

A fish would most certainly not be fine, Jacqueline said. She had landed on a pair of hoop earrings she was halfway happy with, and was beginning to apply lipstick.  A fish would die as easily and swiftly as the rest of the other hypothetical animals under our care. It would take a few days for them to go kaput. 

A fish is easy to take care of, compared to the rest of them. 

Do you know how easy it is to overfeed or underfeed a fish? Any kind of fish? 

I’m not saying care for a fish is like caring for a snake plant, but I’m just saying it wouldn’t be as bad as all the other options is all. 

You’re dead wrong, Jacqueline said. As dead as our poor hypothetical fish. 

Jess had the willpower to wrench herself away from the hallway mirror and walked into her sister’s room. Her sister, who had finished with her routine in front of the vanity mirror, stood up from her chair and was reaching for her handbag. 

Do you really think both of my tops look bad, Jess asked. Her hands were back on her hips. 

Yes. I honestly think both of those tops look bad. 

But you know how much I’ve loved those tops over the years, Jess said. How I’ve worn them to all these special occasions. All those birthday parties and gala events and networking calls. All those dates. You know that saying something like that would hurt me. 

Jacqueline shrugged, rifling through her bag. Sometimes the truth hurts. Sometimes. 

What are you rifling in your bag for, her sister asked. Going for the mace? 

I’m making sure I have all my credit cards and my ID. They always check for ID. 

Jess took a moment to look at her reflection in the vanity mirror. The mirror that forced her to look at just her face – not her full figure, not her smooth sun-tanned legs that were attached to the leather boots. She scowled, and quickly looked away. You don’t like the boots either, do you. 

It’s not like I don’t like the boots, Jacqueline said. I like them fine. I don’t like what they represent for you. 

But they look good on me, right, she asked. 

They look fine on you, her sister replied. 

But they look good on me, right, she repeated. 

They look good on you. 

So what’s the big problem, then. 

Jacqueline had ensured that her required credit cards and photo identification were in the trusted pocket of her handbag, and looked up again at her sister. 

So what’s the big problem, then, Jess repeated. 

Nothing, Jacqueline said. There was a moment between their words, between the energies that pushed their ways against each other in the bedroom, for both of them to listen to the Japanese orchestral music coming from the living room. There’s no problem. You ready to go?

Let me look in the hallway mirror one more time, Jess said. 

No, you’ve looked enough. Are you ready to go?

With one of these hideous tops? Jess asked. I don’t think so. If it’s all so hideous. 

It’s not as atrocious as I made it out to be, Jacqueline said. You’ll be fine wearing it. 

Well, ok then. Let’s go. 

Ok, then. 

You’ve got the keys, right, Jacqueline asked her sister. 

Her sister checked to make sure she had them, and then said, Yep. I’ve got them. 

Well, ok then. 

Ok, then. 

They left the television set with the music on. Jess closed the front door and locked it, and she followed her sister down the stairwell. She hated to admit it to herself, but the boots were beginning to seriously pinch her toes. She wasn’t about to tell her sister that, though.