My husband adores his sister and lately she, like her brother, is having a lot of health problems. I really feel bad for her because like my husband she probably doesn’t have much time left on this earth. I won’t go into the details of what is wrong with her but let’s just say if it turns out that a donor is found then she will probably survive.
When I first met her I thought she one of the coolest people around, I was only 17 years only and she was about 25. She was married and had two children. She had a beautiful home that put my mother and father’s place to shame (they were 20 years her senior and I just remember thinking when I met her “How can someone so young afford this?”). Over the years though a lot of misconceptions, misinterpretations, and misunderstandings have developed to the point where I believe we feel obligated to like one another but that is only because of the fact that we both share a relationship with my husband, her brother. Today I am beneath her status, and "ant" or a "cockroach" in comparison to what and who she believe she is and will prove it by simply opening her checkbook.
I’m remembering one particular Saturday night back in the 1980’s we were young which meant good times and lots of partying. We used to spend a lot of time at his sister’s house, occasionally an evening here and there during the week but especially on the weekends. There was this one particular weekend we hadn't yet figured out what we were going to do and were considering different ideas, we had gone to his sister's so much lately that it was really starting to get old. We thought about going out to a gay bar or even just staying home and watching a movie on the VCR (Video Cassette Recorder - in those days it was a big deal to go the video rental store and rent a bunch of movies for the weekend). Somewhere in between our deciding what to do his sister called and said that she and her friend had started drinking and wanted us to come over. Yes, unbelievably and unfathomable today, there was actually a time when she would actually request us to socialize with them but that was when she was "common folk" before she met her new rich husband; during this period we were more or less near her level financially and definitely socially (her first husband was a laborer and she herself was a waitress at a diner). She had a very cool bar set up in her house that was so large and realistic if you didn't know you were in someone's residence you would have thought you were at a club somewhere, decorated with bar mirrors, neon lights, and other paraphernalia (including an old cash register) giving it the look and feel as if you were actually in a bar and not someone's den (although admittedly, looking back now and thinking about late 70's early 80's décor it resembled more an old veteran's (VFW) or Moose lodge than something young people would frequent today). We spent a lot of time getting drunk together in our pretend nightclub, actually this was probably the period when I started transitioning from an occasional social drinker (still preferring a coke over a beer or alcohol to a regular drinker) to a regular (or binge as I put it) drinker. There was just way too much partying going on, but we were in our 20’s and 30’s and I guess that’s the time to live it up and we were doing our best to enjoy our youth.
My partner (not married at the time, it wasn't legal yet) could be quite mean at times, sometimes downright nasty, especially when vodka was thrown into the mix. We would have many arguments and occasional (physical) fights at the beginning of the relationship but that’s another story, I’m saying this because it prefaces what happened this one particular night I started mentioning in the previous paragraph, it was a Saturday when she called and requested we come over and party with she and her (then) best friend, they had both been drinking since early afternoon. We had been going to her house and drinking so often that I was just not in the mood for either his sister or her friend, it wasn't so much their company but the whole experience. I just didn’t feel like drinking and doing the same old thing. I wanted to do something different I told him to tell her we had other plans which wasn't a lie, we truly were considering alternatives. After the call concluded I told him “I am not in the mood for them tonight” so instead of going to her house that night we went out to dinner and then a gay bar. Now the reason I said at the beginning of this paragraph that he can be mean is because at one point he felt the need to tell her I said I wasn't in the mood for her rather than just let it go.
It was a week later and we found ourselves at his sister’s house again, her usual best friend and drinking partner, and maybe one or two more of her friends (at that time many were fellow waitresses or diner customers, people with whom she would NEVER associate today) and at some point early in the evening she mentioned that they "missed us" the previous weekend, well instead of telling her that we had gone out or even decided to do something different for a change he actually repeated my words to her and said “He said he wasn’t in the mood for you two that night”. How dare he! That’s just not something you say to someone. Sometimes people (especially couples) say things that are just meant to be private, or as in this case simply would not be appropriate to repeat (it was definitely taken out of context). It should be known this might actually be when the potential “good” relationship that had been developing between me and his sister made a turn for the worse (I say potentially because I’m sure over the last 35 years there have been plenty of other reasons… but I think this was the first time we had actually experience friction) and our relationship has never been the same since.
As soon as he uttered the words I could immediately see a cold iciness come over her face and she actually looked like my husband would look when he became angry (the expression still reminds me of how much that entire family can look so similar at times, you can definitely see the genes). The look was one that would usually come over his face when he would suddenly hit me or push me (again… another story that will come at another time). She stopped talking to me the rest of that night as did her friend. They both made it very apparent that I was suddenly not wanted at this particular party anymore. I told my husband that I wanted to go home but by this point he was drunk enough and to the point that being with his sister and sharing the camaraderie the two of them had shared because of their abuse childhood was far more important that me, this intruder into their intimate little world. He told me no and if I wanted to go then I should walk. We lived about 10 miles apart so of course there would be no walking so I left the pretend VFW and sat in the kitchen, passing the time by talking to my husband’s sister’s mother-in-law whom was living with them at the time and I’m sure supplemented the household income which explained a lot about how they were able to afford so much as well as how the house was kept so clean with two working adults and two children… but that may or may not be a correct observation as my sister-in-law always claimed her mother-in-law was a lazy money drain on the house but anytime I was there the poor older lady was always cleaning the kitchen, folding laundry, hand washing dishes and such and if she wasn't working she was generally alone in her bedroom.
So that night I became a pariah and purposely treated to be miserable, none of us were that far out of high school and that's the way I felt, memories being outcast or bullied, knowing you aren't wanted but not allowed to leave. When we finally made our way to the door to go home neither his sister nor her friend even acknowledged me as they showed her brother out to say good-bye (in that respect she was always a good hostess, always showing her company to the door). It was a terrible night. I never realized that saying something so innocently and what was intended to be private could create such ire but I’m telling you things between she and I have never been the same, from that point going forward we have always been cordial strangers (and our relationship just became worse with the additional divide of her second husband and more money in her bank).
About two weeks passed and there had been no conversation with his sister, the invites to come to her home to have a drink stopped and in fact, I don't think we were ever been invited back again in that manner or for that purpose. Of course on occasion we were still invited over for big family events, holidays, and formal parties but asked to come over for a casual evening never really occurred again, or at least not while she was still married to her former husband. There have been on or two times that she and her new husband have asked us over for dinner, but never simply to have drinks. However after the "not in the mood" night it was several weeks before we saw her again and when we did it was either a weekend or early summer evening when she showed up at the front door of my house and said “Hello, is my brother home?” I told her he was in the living room and to go in, the "politeness" in her question let me know that time had not healed this wound. She arrived with a confidence, a purpose, that she would soon share.
We were very cordial to each other, to the point of discomfort. I asked her if she wanted and made her a drink, either vodka or rum (a staple in our household by this point) and coke and three of us sat down and started talking, it was pleasant but not comfortable, she was there for an alternative reason and was just looking for the right time to bring it up and decided the time was right when my husband went to the bathroom to pee. She told me while he was out of the room she had to get something off her chest because my comment had made her feel terrible. But there was more to this than her need to let me know that I had "hurt" her. Her brother had returned while we were still on topic and now that the discussion was on the floor it was going to be continued. When I tried to talk, to explain, she told me to be quiet and listen (as if I were on trial and about to hear my judge's conviction). She went on to tell me that she and her brother had been through alot in life (of course I had heard this story a million times, usually when she was sloppy drunk, it had been repeated so many times even her best friend told me one night that if she had to hear the story again she felt like she might slap her). Again I listened to her story of how they had been abused and suffered in ways I could never understand. Then her bombshell, she told she felt like I was trying to take her brother from her and she was not going to permit that to happen and there was “NO ONE”, not even me that was going to divide them. She said that if I thought I could keep the two of them apart then I had another think coming. (WTF! All this from not being in the mood to drink with her one night? You have got to be kidding me!)
There was no such thing as gay marriage at that time and legally she was more family to my partner than I and should anything happen to him even though we shared everything (including bank accounts) she had more right to his half than I did. I had been with her brother, my partner, my now husband for four to five years and here we were in my (in our) home, and I was being reprimanded, reminded that my relationship was nothing compared to their relationship, I had already known the legal division but now the emotional division was being defined. She came to lay down the law saying that he and she came first and I was secondary in the relationship. She made it very clear and stated as much that I was not going to keep him from her and if I tried I would lose. Finally she said, at the end of her soliloquy “Now if you want to talk you can” and I did.
I pissed off at that point. I sat there through her emotional barrage, her attack, and had taken it just like I had taken her brothers fists many times over the years. She made sure that her point had been banged in my head just like her brother had banged it against a concrete sidewalk, and I had been threatened with losing him just like I had been threatened with the kitchen knife the night he promised to cut my throat. I listened to her tales of the abuse they had to endure while she sat in my own living room and verbally abused me. The only difference is that she was sober. When these attack on me occurred by my husband they generally occurred when he was drinking (as I mentioned "vodka" in particular) and would lose control. These things didn’t happen often but they did happen. So now it was my turn and I simply told her to take him. I said “go upstairs right now pack his bags” the house become ominously quiet. I said all I was going to say. I was serious. I was young and still in my 20’s and I would find someone else, perhaps even put my life on a different track. (There is so much more to say and I will elaborate more later on why I put up with a lot in this relationship but in fairness my husband put up with a lot too, we were and are both to blame for the lives we've led). Honestly I sort of remember at that time part of me wanted him to go. There was that part that was ready to experience new things, play around, meet new a man, date someone, something I hardly learned to experience since I met my husband when I was 17 years old and I never had the chance to experience what life would or could be like with anyone else and if at that point they would have packed his bags and walked out of my life forever I would have been okay with it.
Now, 35 years later I'm glad it didn't happen. It's all very confusing and hard for me to explain. He is a part of my life and I do love him. I know that I've "griped" a lot about him during this blog but the fact of the matter is that if he were to put it in words he would have a lot to gripe about too. I am not a saint, and pretty much can be a big asshole. I don't like myself and have repeated this many times throughout my posts, I am not perfect and many people will tell you I'm a real jerk. I have little to boast about when it comes to being an ideal mate. If I were married to me I would divorce me in a minute. Despite his failings, and his health, and my constant (and probably annoying) whining we have spent nearly our entire lives together so good or bad he and I are in it together and now in a legal union. I have regrets and he has regrets and there are times I want to scream from the top of a mountain that I want out of this relationship or I wish I had never gotten into it to begin with, but then the next day I remember (although not often) the good times and recall that he is a part of my life and no matter what I say, do, or how I act, a part of me will always love him.
The physical attacks that I mentioned earlier have long since ended but the day of his sister's visit was a life changer and a day I will never forget. That day she made it very clear to me that I was and will always be secondary when it comes to him and I made it clear she could have him at any point. Our relationship (hers and mine) was never the same. Since now we are legally married her claim on him isn't as strong as it was back in the 1980's, the Ronald Reagan, AIDS, and Moral Majority era, so I legally am more connected to him and at this point, now in our 50’s such a conversation as what I just mentioned would never occur, plus she doesn't care in the same manner as she did then, those days are gone, times and laws have changed and we are all different people now. We legally share our possessions and have the legal right make decisions over each other in regards to our health and such, all the stuff that her rant some 30 years ago could have been justified and defended in court as family versus homo.
I will tell you honestly over the years there have been many many many times I have not been in the mood for her and I'm sure there have been many many many times she has not been in the mood for me and today we both deal with that feeling, no more visits with threats of taking possession of her sibling.