Fissure

Andromeda

I was late. So freaking late. I rifled through my luggage trying to find a bra and shirt, but everything felt too fancy. I didn’t want to wear a blazer to brunch with my sister.

That would be ridiculous. I am not a casual blazer wearer. I prefer a sweater that I can sink into.

However, today I wanted to look like those careless athleisure women who looked flawless in their leggings and non-functional sportswear minus the toned abs.

Topless and braless, I found a tight overpriced midnight black zip up that hugged all my curves. I looked in the mirror and paused. My wide hips were pronounced in the black leggings that were a solid purchase from some random brand online. The thick fabric of the jacket hiding my nipples and their respective piercings for now, but I looked hot in a “I was super late and couldn’t be fucked to find real clothes” kind of way.

Putting on my Nikes that only saw the light of day when I wasn’t home, I felt like I mastered the look I wanted. Adorning my face with some mascara and a lip balm with a light pink hue and going to the trouble of brushing my thick mane of hair I was ready.

The honey brown colour made it hard to cover the natural grease that seemed to plague my sister and I. Thank science for dry shampoo. I didn’t look like I should be in a Pantene commercial or anything, but it was a step up from what it had looked like this morning.

Grabbing the room key and my purse, I looked at the room and huffed. It looked like a storm had blown through, and I had only been here for one day.

I shrugged. Oh well.

I was already starting to miss my cabin.

My home.

In the mountains outside of Anchorage, my place was perfect. Small but functional with a wood burning fireplace and wireless internet, believe it or not. It was a modern log cabin, partially redone five years ago making it a lot more luxurious that the other cabins of its size.

It was paradise. I had one neighbour that was a ten-minute drive leaving me isolated and without the worry of nosey neighbours or peeping toms.

The best part was the previous owners didn’t want to ship their new state of the art jacuzzi to their new home, so they gifted it to me. My nights at home, when I wasn’t pulling my hair out over data composites, I could sip a glass of cheap wine and read a good book soaking in my tub.

With my backyard essentially being mountain side, it looked like something out of a fairy tale on the late nights I soaked in the blissful blistering hot water.

Being back on the mainland, in California no less, was a weird feeling. I had grown up here. Had my first kiss and car crash here. Well, I had a whole lot of firsts here, but the point was Alaska felt like home now, not California.

Most days, anyway.

Even if it was a little lonely sometimes, plus I missed my sister. Walking out of my hotel into the middle of San Francisco, I was emerged in the smell of urine and cigarette smoke.

Lovely.

I popped my headphones in not playing any music but just to have them in my ears, kind of like a safety blanket, and sped walked my way to the restaurant that was notorious for its bottomless mimosas and avocado toast. Something I could cry tears of joy about.

Living in Alaska, having a solitary job like I did, it was easy to miss the more luxurious things that’s California had to offer. Avocado toast being one of them.

Looking around it was hard to ignore that even for a Sunday morning, the streets were laden with people with places to go, teens with their friends walking and laughing, and the businesspeople that were going into work on the weekend like it was their church.

Making my way down another block I noticed the smiles of many people who were making eye contact with me. Which was weird because smiling at strangers in a city seemed more of a joke than an actuality. By the time I had made it to Morning Glory, I had been smiled at by at least four men and two women.

Yes, I was counting. Sue me.

It was freaking weird.

The cheery hostess with dyed blonde hair and dark roots and a cute septum piercing quickly led me to my sister’s table where she sat reading her kindle with unabashed facial expressions indicating it was a good read so far. Probably some dirty romance, knowing her. When her eyes looked up, she smirked at me.

“Andi you harlot, your tits look amazing, but you are about to fall out of your jacket sis.”

My face warming, I looked down only to see the zipper of my jacket that had descended to the middle of my chest leaving a deep V of cleavage and it very noticeable that I wasn’t wearing anything under it.

Classy, Andromeda. Real fucking classy.

I nodded, understanding all the smiles on the street now. They were getting a free show. I zipped it to my neck and plopped in my seat, sipping the mimosa that was waiting for me.

“Well, Ami, what can I say I am always looking to give an old guy a heart attack by making his year with these bad girls.” I presented my tits like they were the Maserati of body parts. Amalthea laughed hard at my slight macabre humour.

“You always could make an entrance.” She winked knowing full well I hated making entrances of any type. I preferred to slip into the background when I arrived and when the time came, leave unnoticed.

“Anyways, did you settle into your hotel room after I dropped you off yesterday from the airport?” She asked putting her kindle in her small backpack.

Amalthea was a true beauty. I guess that was also an ass-backward way of complimenting myself, but it didn’t make it any less true.

Wearing a similar outfit to mine, she radiated a glow that was hard to look away from. But she had the decency to wear a bra and a shirt under her teal zip up.

We were fraternal twins, but we were practically identical in the face aside from some colour differences. Where I had brown hair, Ami had strawberry blonde. Where I had blue eyes, she had hazel green. I was tall at 5’9 but my dear sister was short barely reaching 5 feet 4 inches. But our faces and body types were the same, that was also where our similarities ended. That didn’t change that we were best friends.

“Yes. I mean my room is already a mess but what can you do?” I studied the menu as I spoke. My mouth watered at every ingredient.

“Ah yes. How could I forget your penchant for controlled chaos when it comes to your bedroom?” She teased also looking at the menu with the same hungry eyes.

If someone were to try to argue we weren’t sisters, that look on her face proved that we were definitely related.

“Well, I know where I put stuff.” I put down the menu looking around. Out table on a small dock made for the restaurant. Putting us directly on the murky water of the bay. It was a pretty day, with the sun shining bright and a slight breeze coming off the bay. The salty smell permeating the air filling me with nostalgia I didn’t know I missed. Alaska certainly couldn’t beat this, or at least couldn’t beat the moment.

“Anyways, we didn’t catch up enough yesterday. Tell me how your students are. Any cheeky ones this year?” Ami smiled and her cheeks pinked slightly.

She was a high school AP English teacher, who also lectured at the SF State two days a week in the evening. She loved her work and her students. But the blushing like a virgin teen was new.

“All my students are wonderful. One has even asked if I will mentor her.” She pushed my hipster glasses up her nose then tucked a stray hair that hadn’t been pulled up in the ponytail behind her ear. Those were ‘I have a secret’ moves. She was hiding something for sure.

“Amalthea. What are you hiding?” I demanded with my own signature smirk plastered on my face. Before she could answer an attractive waiter with curly black hair and crystal blue eyes approached our table with a small smile. His slender body was covered in all black, per the restaurants dress code it seemed, but his left arm was covered from knuckle to bicep in colourful tattoos.

“Hi, my name is Yves and I’ll be your server today. What can I get you beautiful ladies today?” I decided to ignore the beautiful comment. Although I could tell Ami was a little uncomfortable, but she said nothing either.

We rattled off our orders and he scurried away to the table next to us filled with a group of older ladies who gushed at his compliment that he paid them as well. I turned my attention back to Ami.

“Amalthea Magpie Caraway. What are you hiding from me?” I used her fake middle name as a sign that I meant business but with good hearted intentions.

Our real middle names were a little nerdier than that. Her middle name was Pica which was a magpies species name. Mine happened to be Cristata, which was the species name for the blue jay. Our parents loved lots of things, but mythology and birds were pretty high on that list.

“Andromeda Blue-jay Caraway. It’s no big deal.”

I tutted, unable to let it go. Like true good sister. “Ami, just tell me. Oh my god, are you in love with one of your students parents?” I asked in mock horror, because that would be a train-wreck.

She almost spit out her mimosa. She forced a swallow and set her glass down.

“No, you asshole. I just may have interacted with one my student’s uncles without knowing. I’ll tell you more about it when I am ready okay?”

I smiled in success and didn’t ask any more questions. I knew when to stop pestering my sister. I was happy she finally told me, but I wouldn’t push until she was ready to tell me more.

Ami excused herself to the toilet and left me with my second glass of mimosa, she hasn’t touched hers. Strange. When she returned, she looked a little paler than usual but as soon as the server dropped off our appetiser I didn’t know we had ordered, she looked better. We quickly changed the conversation to the reason I was in San Francisco in the first place.

The conference.