Page 2 of The Wonder of You

Lydia struts through the door and into the kitchen as if the house is hers. She is someone I wish would knock before entering. That old familiar feeling of jealousy and frustration finds its way into my system. Lydia is the image of our mother; from the photos we’ve seen of her at least. It wasn’t enough for my grandparents to favour her, but it won Dad over. I craved their relationship. The way he looked at her with pride. The way he wrapped his arm around her at my grandmother’s funeral. I craved my father in a way that only my sister got to experience.

Growing up, it was so obvious that my grandparents took me on as their own. My grandfather was a great second father, but that’s the thing, he still came second. I wanted them both. I wanted my father. I am twenty-nine but when I see my sister and my father together, I am suddenly five watching him swing her up into the air. I am eight watching him hold her hand across the road. I am ten watching him clap with tears flowing down his cheeks at her school performance.

I try to let it go, but I have never been good at putting things behind me.

“I wanted you to meet Simon,” she smiles and I realise there is a man behind her. He looks like he’s walked straight out of a boyband, but he seems sweet. He doesn’t look the same twenty-six years as my sister, but I am not here to ask about his age like I’m Lydia’s mother .

“Hey, nice to meet you.” I smile and extend my hand. I notice Lydia cringe as I shake Simon’s hand, like I’m some sort of embarrassment to her. What am I supposed to do though? I’m not great at meeting new people.

“Wow, you and Lydia do not look anything alike!” he chuckles.

“I always used to think Renée must have had a different father!” Lydia slaps her knees as if she’s told the world’s best joke. I feel my heart drop as she makes the same observation that haunted me as a child. However, it’s an odd observation really. Lydia is identical to our mother. She has the same blonde flowing hair, the same beautiful blue eyes. She even has our mother’s above average height. Growing up, everyone thought she was the older sister. I am similar to my father. Sharing the same dark hair, facial moles and grey eyes. I am beyond small for my age. Constantly joking that I didn’t grow any taller from when I hit twelve years old. Something I noticed with my father in his photo albums too. Although he did seem to have the growth spurt that I didn’t get around his later teenage years. Yet, when I watched my father and Lydia together growing up, dancing and singing, joking around as a father and daughter should, I did wonder if there was a secret I didn’t know. If perhaps my father didn’t love me the same way as Lydia because I wasn’t his.

“Don’t be silly, my girl,” my grandfather once said softly when I mentioned it, but I saw the sympathy on his face .

I take a deep breath and stand awkwardly looking at my sister and her new boyfriend.

“This is my grandparent’s old place. They bloody gave it to Renée though, didn’t they?” she says directly to Simon. It comes out light-hearted and fun, but I sense a hint of bitterness in her tone. “I used to visit sometimes as a kid, but Renée spent the most time with them. Used to live here basically.”

I stand near the door, listening to them talking as if I’m not really here.

“It’s a good place, got a lot of potential, you’ve got my mind ticking here with all the things that could be done!” A smile takes Simon’s face. He suddenly seems much older, despite his boyish features.

“Simon is an interior designer,” Lydia announces with her hand on Simon’s chest. She smiles up at him but he’s still admiring the house.

“That’s really cool,” I say. It is cool, I suppose, if it’s something he’s passionate about.

“Let me know if you want some help with that, yeah? I could recommend a tonne of things.” Simon grins at me, his eyes flashing with inspiration. I actually sort of like him. As someone who has dropped out of college, left jobs within the same week of joining them, I have always admired other people’s passions. I may not have any myself, and I may be nearing on thirty without a career or any idea of one, but I love to see that spark within someone else.

“Yeah, that sounds really good, thank you.” I notice Lydia smiling at me because she recognises how genuine I am being. Her face turns soft, like she remembers I am her sister and not just some loser.

“Renée, you’re so pale! You should really get out of this place more often. Please come and join us for a night out!” she says enthusiastically. I smile but I also grunt.

“Me on a night out? You have to be kidding!”

“No, no, listen!” She walks towards me and takes both my hands as if I am a child and she has something important to tell me. “The circus is in town!”