Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Blue Black Lips and Sis

I woke up today with a hole in my heart. It ached. I was missing something. Someone. I needed the hole filled.

I wore blue-black lips. Nobody speaks Vogue and Harper's Bazzarre like we do. Did you see that leopard print Dior pencil dress this month? So chic. I'm SO into the sequined Givenchy pant by Ricardo Tisci! Hot. Love your belt. I got the BCBG thigh-highs. Jealous.

I haven't seen her in a month.

"Ahhhh! I missed you sooo much!" I say.

She hugs me. "You look so HOT! Love the lips!"

"YOU look hot! Your boots are supa fly!"

We're both giddy. We talk a mile a minute. I hug her again.

"Ugh! I just love you so MUCH!" I say. "I've NEEDED you!"

"I've been hiding out," she says. "I have stuff to tell you."

"I have stuff to tell you too," I reply.

We tell each other our stuff. Serious stuff. Stupid stuff. Fashion stuff. Our faces are inches apart and we barely stop for breath.

"Howz Grant?"

"How are Syd and J?"

"Who knows about this?"

"You're so dumb. I love you."

"You're retarded. I love you too."

A woman walks by. "Are you twins?"

"No. We get that a lot."

When we were kids we were inseparable. The Smith sisters. Big sis, Lil sis. Las Crystales. Which one are you? Crystal and Coral.

We slept in the same bed and sang each other to sleep.

I lied for her. She stole for me.

She lied for me. I stole for her.

Have you ever loved anyone so much it hurts? I love her like that.

When she cries my heart bleeds. When she's down I'm down. When she's up I'm up.

Once a large fat girl told her to shut up. I was a senior in high school. I took off my jewelry and put my face two inches from Fatty. She was big and tall and strong. I looked up at her with fire in my eyes. "I. Will. Kill. You." I said. Fat girl was sorry.

I never fought for myself. Only for her.

"You're going to be mad at me," she says today.

"No I won't, Coral. I get you."

"No you don't."

"Yes. I really do. I love you. There is nothing you can do that will upset me."

We've shared clothes and lipstick and boyfriends.

"Are you done with him?"


"K. 'Cause I like him. Is he a good kisser?"

"He's ok. Have at it."

We've shared every heartbreak and every triumph.

She was in the room when Maya was born.

Nobody can make me laugh like she can. Nobody.

Nobody knows me like she does. Nobody.

I knew her before she knew herself.

When we sing together it's magic. Our voices blend in perfect harmony. Gives me chills sometimes.

"I'm bluer than blue. Sadder than sad. You're the only life this empty room has ever had. Life without you is gonna be... bluer than blue..."

She painted a picture so beautiful and relevent I sobbed for half an hour.

"I can feel you when I look at this," I said.

When I'm with her I'm completely understood. No judgement is passed. There is only brutal honesty.

"Your ass looks fat in those pants."

"You are WAY too skinny right now."

"My heart is broken. What do I do?"

In Paris we tried to walk to the Eiffel Tower and got lost. We sang on the street in the dark.

As children we laughed and ran and played and fought.

Now we must put away childish things. As adults we hold each other up and tell each other it's all going to be ok. Hearts break and heal. Love is lost and found and falters.

"I need to rock the new black lip," she says.

"K. But we can't do it on the same day. Call me first."