About My Sisters Read Online Free

point, yet I can see it in her, that same kind of controlled female pain.
    Lavander is looking at me now, asking me something, drawing me out of my reverie.
    â€œWhat?” I ask dimly.
    â€œI said, you should try it. Why not?”
    â€œThe waxing thing? Never. I’m still mad at you for convincing me to wax my upper lip. I can’t stand it, it’s the most painful thing and now I have to keep doing it every few weeks because it keeps growing in.”
    â€œOh no, you really had to do it. You had a mustache, a thick one.”
    â€œI did not,” I whine, instinctively touching my upper lip. “I just allowed you to talk me into it because I’m insecure.”
    â€œDidn’t you finally start seeing someone after you got rid of that ’stache?”
    â€œTwo years later,” I tell her. “You know, I think you have a problem with hair.”
    And it’s not over, this hair/no hair debate, not by a long shot, because now Maya has reappeared in the kitchen and Lavander is in there after her, going through the same maneuvers, attempting to bring her over to the side of the hairless.
    â€œOh no,” I hear Maya say. “No, please don’t show—oh no, that’s awful.”
    â€œSisters!” Déja bursts through the door with her customary greeting. (Nobody knocks when they come here, they just immediately turn the door handle. If it’s not locked, they stride right in. If it’s locked, there’s a second or two of angry pounding as if to say, “You knew we were coming over, so why is this door locked?”).
    â€œDéja!” Maya exclaims in response.
    â€œHey, Déja, come look at this,” Lavander says, “I got a Brazilian.”
    â€œWhere’s Danny?” I ask.
    â€œHe’s coming with Bo, because I have to leave early,” Déja says, giving me a kiss on the cheek. Déja has been the most physically affectionate sister since her earliest infancy. As a baby, she was constantly smothered with kisses and hugs of which she could never get enough. She’s the same way now; at twenty-four she’s unable to enter a family room without a kiss and a hug for everyone present. When she exits, it’s the same, except she always combines the kisses with an I-love-you, something she never leaves out of her phone conversations either. Lavander is big on saying “I love you” also, will do a nice job of air-kissing from time to time, and isn’t above the occasional embrace, but it’s not a priority like it is with Déja. Maya is very affectionate with Déja and sometimes with Lavander, but I can’t remember the last time she and I exchanged either a hug or a kiss. Even when we were very little, Maya and I weren’t very physically demonstrative with each other. We were just too close. Kissing her is like kissing myself. And the number of times we have said we love each other in our lifetimes can probably be counted on the fingers of one hand. But not Déja, who seems to need these expressions of love and who soaks them up like a sponge. We indulge her, this baby of the family who, at five feet seven, towers over her sisters who are between five feet and five feet two. She moves among us now, bestowing kisses, laughing at Lavander’s wax obsession, and proclaiming that she is “absolutely starving.”
    For a few minutes, we four sisters are by ourselves. Although we speak to each other every day and see each other almost as often, it is a rare occurrence for all of us to be in the same room without the rest of our family. It’s an unstable combination, this quartet. Astrologically, we have all the elements covered: fire(Déja, the Sagittarius), earth (Lavander, the Virgo), air (me, the Gemini), and water (Maya, the Pisces). Conventional astrological wisdom would assume a balance in this combination, a flow of disparate but complementary energies. But most often we form a