Sensitive

There weren’t always Dragons in the Valley painting slowly chipping away from the back of my sister’s backpack. Now there's two, one gold and one silver, shimmering in their miniature rhinestone glory. She’s an exquisite artist, so pieces of fabric paint missing from the scene doesn’t lessen its beauty, only adds texture, more interest.

The bag started out as a Lisa Frank mermaid knock off, but one day Skuy saw it as a canvas and kept on adorning it. She’s painted over it many times, but once she laid in this particular scene, she committed to adding subtle details instead. Her devotion to the process is so intense, I figured out that the valley is a repository for her emotions and secrets. It’s only chasm that could possibly be deep enough.

I notice one of the bag’s original teal-green polyester straps is breaking away from its patch for the fifth time even though she treats the thing like a Picasso. Light parts are all turning tan despite her best dry cleaning efforts. I don’t know why she won’t accept my offer to make her a new one. We could pick out the right fabric and transfer The Valley to a new base. I look away to avoid getting fixated because my imagination makes the causes of the stains grosser than they really are. Me trying to mind my own business makes me smile.

It’s getting hot in the Pill, the name I gave our first edition Round Car. My parents were among the first to jump on incentives for solar powered, driverless cars compatible with the Sun Roads being installed in major cities. The replacement of concrete roads with reinforced solar panels that deliver free energy and Wifi was so relevant, nine more editions of this ride were born, each model sleeker than the one before. Our vintage car is maintained like a monument because it shows my family’s early commitment to the Truth craze that’s swept the globe. Folks are “dedicated to expansive solutions that make sense for Everyone” and we’ve been performative about it. I guess treating what you have well runs in the family.

I could lower the temperature of the cabin myself, but I don’t want to assume. I’m annoyed that I still don’t feel wholly comfortable calling simple shots this many years after our adoption. To smooth the feeling, I inspect my nails then make eye contact with Skuy.

“Hey, Mom, do you mind turning up the AC? The dome’s starting to fog up.”

“Sure, I was getting hot too,” Lila murmurs from across the cabin as she slides her finger down the temp display that popped up on the glass beside her. Her seat is turned to face front as if she’s driving and away from us. She gives us plenty of space to degas and debrief on the ride home from Passions.

As I hold her gaze, I see my sister’s eyes are rimmed with red. I mouth “what’s up?” and she shakes her head, indicating that whatever’s up isn’t a conversation for Lila to overhear. That’s odd. Usually our side talk is enough to go over Lila’s head, so what’s different? I want to get a better read on her so I change the question, this one asked aloud.

“How was figure drawing? Was the model as big as last time?” That turns up one corner of Skuy’s mouth and gets a backwards glance from Lila in the front monitor. They both know I’m not talking about stature. Skuy’s smirk quickly fades and I can feel she’s annoyed to be forced out of silence.

“They were Massive.” She rings out unapologetically. “It was Radheshyam’s fine self.”

My eyebrows fly up and she lets her eyes sparkle for the first time today. I’m relieved to see her face return to its usual openness.

“We gotta stop objectifying my exes, Era. It’s not a good look.” I grin as her head slides back into an easy laugh.

I’ve always needed to make Skuy smile. I’m on the uppity side, but I’ll go low if it means lifting a heart that feels everything. We both sense deeply but she lets it sink in.

Living as highly sensitive beings in the midst of a Global Paradigm Shift has been so wild for us that our sisterhood has become our center of gravity and little else. We try to let our adoptive family into our mutual landscape; it gets awkward, but I think we do okay. We've had reason to believe the world is a safer place as long as we're in sync, so it's a true challenge to ease out of our us-against-the-world aesthetic.

Our birth mother, victim of both sexual assault and anti-abortion laws, became a mom of twins at twenty-one with the mind of a teenager. CCA - Comprehensive Caregiver Assistance - didn’t exist so she burned out within three years. With no partner, little support from family and unchecked codependency, "Mom" dropped us off at a “good friend’s” one night and chose good sex over returning to us.

Birth mom sent decent checks to her friend, which is the only reason Skuy and I spent over a year and a half in her care. Child Protective Services raided the friend’s house for obvious neglect one night and tried to put us in separate cars. In the dark and the cold, Skuy and I started the pantomime of being conjoined; sitting or standing, hip to hip, me on the left and her on the right with hands tightly clasped and we didn’t stop until our pre-teens. We were rescued by Maxine, a young case worker who arrived just in time to demand we stay together. From that day she’s been a complete angel in our lives. Birth mom didn’t come for us.

Maxine never hesitated to take our complaints seriously and moved us in and out of half a dozen homes even though families who would accept two girls at a time were scarce. She said she went above and beyond because for her it was love at first sight; two tiny girls defiantly wrapped around each other, hands grasped to the white of their knuckles refusing to be moved. We pretty much only spoke to her and our pediatrician in the early years. She’s always cared for our separate likes and dislikes, which was tough for fraternal twins in the foster system. Everyone would assume we’re the same person even though you could tell us apart from a mile away.

One memory of Max sticks out the most. She snuck up behind us one late-summer evening and slid Skuy’s prized mermaid back pack around her shoulders. A moment later I was holding a glittery holographic notebook with a matching set of pens. It had been a tough summer, so even though we were too old for them, her gifts moved us to tears. That was the day she told us she had found Lila and David.

Around the corner from home land marks start registering in my brain and I look up to find Skuy staring at me hard. I must’ve zoned out at some point in traffic when I went ahead and let the ride fall silent.

“Wanna do some yoga when we get home?”

Yoga is Skuy-ese for we really need to talk.

***

“I can. Not. focus on this!” Erupts from the other room. I shake my head as steam fogs up my migraine glasses.

Skuy’s been extra snippy since we got in. It doesn’t escape me that we haven’t had a chance to “do yoga” yet. I haven’t been this worried about yet annoyed by my sister in a while. I take a moment to call down my patience. Thankfully, the house is quiet outside of her occasional tantrum. Lila went out to meet David for a seminar and I’m guessing dinner, so they won’t be back for a while. I’m tempted to walk around naked.

Blow. Sip. Blow. This Jasmine sencha needs something, but I’m not sure what. Oatmilk? “What’s the question?”

“What year was the last pale cis male leader elected?”

Ha. I know the assignment doesn't say that; she’s so blunt. it’s probably more like: What year was the last president of the former United States elected. But it’s effectively the same question.

While we were still in foster care, the whole world got put in a blender and and what was simply wasn't anymore. The skeletons in most global conglomerates and a bunch of world leaders’ closets got dumped out for the world to see. Massive protests and institutional boycotts started, but it wasn’t chaotic like we thought “the end of the world” would be. It all felt persistently eerie, like a solar eclipse at midday. A lot of businesses and systems stopped, but a lot didn't because folks continued to move similar to how they had before. The alternative was to go apocalyptic and nobody had the energy or desire to live that.

Skuy and I experienced that time of constant change as if we lived in a movable bunker. We spent a lot of time hugging the walls, scanning the rooms we were in for any instability and our senses fired on all cylinders 24 hours a day because we had learned not to place weight on adults in most situations. There were a lot of community potlucks and whenever anybody got loud over a discussion or even a game of cards, we would’ve felt the energy building long before eruption and hid until the vibe mellowed. They always mellowed.

Early in the Shift, a large group of socially confirmed spiritual thinkers, affectionately called the Divas, gently gained traction when they encouraged imaginative, idealistic “safe-space”discussions and meditations in different cities. Neighborhoods took time to nominate one or two speakers a week and the meetings, held in the “ghetto” of each city, would be surrounded by the families of the nominees and their community members to keep it safe and sacred. There was occasional disruption, but for the most part, the meetings literally gushed the warmth of healing and had people on their best behavior. It didn’t take long for weird ideas to not be so weird. It follows that almost ubiquitously, hearts of state have been indigenous. The majority have been feminine, most have been mothers.

The quicksand aura of our childhood is starting to mellow out, but things are far from perfect.

I walk into the paper tornado that has taken over the living room. “You know the answer to that question, it’s on the passions entrance exam! Why would that even be on a senior assignment? You writing a paper?”

“I didn’t say I don’t know it, I said I can’t focus.” Her eyes question something as they gaze out into the twilight. She’s got a hand pressed tenderly on the area under her left breast. It seems like she’s investigating a bruise.

I try not to let concern enter my voice. “Want to actually take a yoga break? I need it. Whatever’s going on with you is stressing me out. Then we can talk.” I have to get this tension out of my body.

“Yeah, let’s do yin ‘cause I’m tired. Pull up Arianna Elizabeth, her 15 minute one is blessed. I’ll meet you in the gym.”

Except she doesn’t.

I’ve been in a pristine child’s pose for at least twenty minutes waiting to hear her come down the hall. I’m not complaining, this feels good. I just know we have to talk before the house fills up and it’s time to separate for bed.

Five more minutes have gone by and I’m close to dozing off. I should go see what’s going on. In a couple minutes.

***

One knock on Skuy’s door and I open it before she could possibly answer. With each other, we’ve literally seen it all, so we don’t feign modesty or healthy boundaries. Immediately my senses are on alert. There’s a metallic smell to the air. Not quite blood metallic, but the cloying scent of general malaise and the energy is dense.

My formidable sister always looks so young when she sleeps, and tonight is no exception. She’s curled up in a ball in the middle of her bed, still in her undershirt and jeans. I sit down next to her and rub her back, same as I do when she’s having a nightmare.

“Skuy, baby.” She hates it when I call her pet names so I know she’ll wake up faster. “Sweetness, wake up.”

It worked. One eye squints up at me as I tap on her nightlight with my foot. “Hey Ear.”

Nice. She hasn’t called me Ear since I begged her to stop calling me a nickname based off her kiddie dyslexic mistake. Jokes on her, I actually like that it makes sense now.

“Your room smells sick. And I feel your temperature inching up. What’s going on?”

Skuy takes a moment then uncoils slowly. She’s clearly uncomfortable and I’m impatient for her to let me know how to help. She already has water so I can’t even grab that for her.

“Era,” she coos haltingly, “I know we’ve got to keep it together a few more weeks, but I’m getting tired. Everything hurts. Today I couldn’t sit up straight in studio and Rad noticed. They cornered me during break about it.”

“Skuy…”

“I know! I’ve been telling Rad everything’s going back to normal, but they see through me like they got x-ray. It’d be hot if this wasn’t serious.” Skuy rolls her eyes and winces up to a seated position, watching my face.

I look away in a shoddy attempt at hiding the emotions rocketing through me. I thought we had figured out ways to slow this down! We’ve sacrificed so much. Spending way less time together, letting go of junk food, leaving our relationships and going celibate. I even stopped cursing and started doing friggin’ Yoga. I don’t know what else to do.

“Julien failed his health check and got pulled from the boutique for observation today. He lost head tailor and might get transferred.” Skuy just closes her eyes. It wrenches my heart, but there’s also Heat climbing my face as frustration and fear give way to anger.

I’m incredulous. “You’re hiding how fast you’re developing from me. How could you possibly think that’s good for us?" No reply." You said if I didn’t Read you, you’d update me on Everything! I held up my end, why didn’t you?" Skuy's chest rises and falls in shallow breaths and her hand has found its way to the left of her ribcage again. "Even with the migraines, I could’ve at least helped numb it!”

Her eyes open to me, threatening tears, and my anger escapes just as fast as it grew. “We can't let the healers see this. We can't get separated again.” I say simply.

“There’s two more health checks and Passions Review. Then we’re green-lighted to meet the Divas. I’ve been practicing the pain transfer, so-”

The Pill pulls into the garage and both of us tense up. Our parents implemented a strict curfew to keep us out of each other’s bedrooms past nine-thirty. From the beginning they would find us giggling under the covers til early in the morning almost every night. Our habit was affecting Skuy’s studies so they reinforced the curfew by restricting internet access. I’ve been doing extra research on how to contain ourselves and pass medical screens, so we can’t afford a cut off right now.

“Get some more sleep and I’ll come back early early to try a transfer.” I whisper as I get ready to sneak across the hall to my room. I attempt a smile and rub Skuy’s cheek a couple times. “I love you, girl.”

Her head leans into the gesture. “I love you, too.”

***

“Buliep” chimes through the walls.

My fob buzzes by my ankle and I murmur a groggy “yeh” to see the message; squinting as too bright letters pop up in front of my face.

‘Ear, my side’s way worse.’ I see Skuy’s furrowed brow in my mind’s eye and that visual is enough to wake me fully, so I sit up, tucking my pillow behind me. Wagging my thumb brings up a small holo keyboard just above my lap in the same glowing lavender as the message.

Something about this night feels sharp and urgent. I’m ready for anything.

‘I’m coming. I think we’re good, David’s snoring hard.’

Seconds later and I’m outside, now through Skuy’s door.

We’ve practiced for emergencies, but none of it has prepared me for what I’m seeing right now. Skuy’s nightlight is on and she’s standing by her bed topless, swaying with pain. Her eyes are closed, but I don’t need to see them, I can smell that she’s terrified. The air is rank with fear. As I move closer, I see a thin trail of blood coming from the place she was favoring earlier that ends in her bellybutton. What. The. Fuck.

“Shit, Skuy!” I rasp at her, trying to keep my voice in check. “Sit down! I can’t reach your head right if you’re standing.”

“I can’t -,” is all she can say. Ok. Ok. I can do this, even though it's the first time under pressure. All the taking and moving pain I've done the past few months has to be worth something. I grab her ankles and try to slow my breath so I can enter her energy. This is going to suck.

I begin to feel my way into her pain, but Skuy breaks my concentration by tapping my head. “Look.”

I do and see she’s scratching back a lip of skin under her rib.

“Just leave it alone! PLEASE. Try to breathe with me.” I purse my lips for her to follow my lead and she trains her eyes on me, dropping her hands for a moment. This is so fucked but we can’t go back to the hospital. We’re walking a thin line.

My heart roars into my ears as I see her reach for the spot again.

“I can’t help it. It feels… it feels like it’s gonna come off anyway -“ she sucks in a puff of air and pulls at the flap. I feel lightheaded, so I plant my hands on my knees and stare at the floor to regain some semblance of calm.

“Ha-“ Skuy whimpers. My head snaps back up. I refuse to abandon her in this, so I hold her gaze; tears spilling over onto my cheeks, my lips twisted in disbelief. Her index fingertip has disappeared fully beneath her skin and her graying face is surprisingly serene as she prepares to pull again.

For the life of me I want to be the rock she’s grown accustomed to, but as she peels a swath of flesh away from her ribcage revealing something metallic underneath, all I can do is scream.

***