I feel weird typing this on my sister's laptop, but I have to say this or I will explode.
I think I sacrificed a lot to come to Zurich to see my sister get married. I got a good deal on airfare, but it ain't free. I still don't have a job, and I certainly don't have enough in my account to make it rain at a strip club. And it looks like my new brother-in-law is comfortable, or at least is free from debt and all self-doubt. But My Fucking Sister had to raise the issue of money, and with that the implication I'm just a freeloader.
Happened tonight. I had a carefree day walking around, getting lost, and seeing the sights of the city. I had two two-hour periods of sleep and was out in the heat all day, so I will admit I was tired. But I said we should go out. He decided we bus it to this outdoor festival. It was nice, but underwhelming. There was a cute carousel powered not by a motor but by a guy standing on the edge of a donut stage pushing the ground with a stick while guys playing the drums and accordion played for the kids. We then spent some time looking at a group playing with fire undramatically. Don't tell anyone; but I got bored quick, and I wanted to go home.
We first got drinks. My sister's husband said he got them. While he stood in line, My Fucking Sister raised again something she said a couple days ago: One of these times I should pay.
"But he said he got this one. What I am supposed to do?"
"But still. ..." (she says this all the time, and I hate it)
He got dinner; she heard it, she had to! But after we ate and walked around some more, he ran into some friends. They actually worked at one of the festival stages putting on a show; my sister's husband used to do the same thing several years ago. My already-flagging energy nosedived as he ran into more friends, people I had no connection with, not even a language to share. That left me talking with my sister, or at least my sister nagging me about stepping up and paying again.
That's when I really started to get sick of her. Does she appreciate that I booked a flight 13 days in advance just so she would have someone representing her family on one of the biggest and most important days of her entire life? (And something, I may add, she told us only two fucking months ago. Normal people have the decency to at least plan for a year.) You were OK with putting me up. And all this time they -- well, actually him -- stepped up and got discount tickets to Lucerne, and volunteered to pay so far, including tonight. And I don't fucking see her saying "I got this." Why? Because she doesn't have a job, either. What the fuck does she have telling me what I have to pay for when she hasn't paid a goddamn cent for anything?
I hate being told what to do. I hate it. This reminds me of the time when I went off on my father after he decided out of the blue to put down new sod on the front lawn. Both times I was tired, both times I felt blindsided, both times I wished they would've told me the ground rules of something that is very important to me. But this time is worse because it involves something I don't have right now: cash money. I don't think I'm being a freeloader, but that's certainly her implication, and if I don't, not only am I a moocher, but I'm also a bad brother. Which I'm not, otherwise I wouldn't fucking be here.
But in my tired, defeated state I had to shut her up. So the next time my brother-in-law wanted a beer I said, in a tone of voice meant to convey sarcasm and a complete lack of spontaneity, I kind of screamed, "Hey, I'll buy this one for you!" There's six francs I no longer have.
Worse yet, he stayed talking to his friends. In fact, they sat down and ordered more beers. (I had another one, this one paid for by one of his friends, thank Buddha.) I felt awkward and isolated; these are his friends, these are not my friends, and I couldn't even eavesdrop on what they're saying because they were speaking in fuckin' German. The guy next to me, this beautiful, beautiful man, he was very gracious and started talking to me. He asked me interesting questions that forced me to give answers that were logical and thoughtful. He made me feel like a part of the conversation. I got energy from this man, and in fact when we had to go because there was one last bus operating in the city, I actually felt bad that I had to leave the table.
There was one thing that stood out, however. I made it a point of saying to her that I didn't like being railroaded into paying with money I don't have for this trip. Before his friend started bringing me into the converasation, I left for the bathroom just to get away from these people. (Sign I was really tired: I almost fell completely off the wooden plank on my way to the WC just so I could sidestep a guy.) After I came back, everybody started talking about what I could do for free. Don't tell me My Fucking Sister didn't tell the table I was bitching about shelling out money. I hate being ambushed, and I certainly don't like it when someone tells strangers about my "issues."
But so what, the tickets to this acrobatics show was free (assuming we get them, which is still not 100%.). Well, it does feel like we were handed these because I was being such a cunt about paying for a round of drinks, a stupid suggestion My Fucking Sister told me. But again, whatever. On the bus ride home, I still had this spectre of what she said/threatened, and so, without any regard to where this will leave me financially, I blurted out that I will pay for dinner the last night I'm here in Zurich.
"It's the right thing to do," I said.
"I agree."
Fuck You, Sister. I did a lot to get here, just so you can indulge your need to get your work visa as soon as you can. And your husband works in fucking Zurich, a place where there's virtually no poverty. He fucking has more money than I do! And you fucking think I have to pay, when everything screams that he can pay for everything?!?!?! I am pulling my weight, goddammit. Was coming here not enough? Was washing your dishes like you asked me to not good enough for you? Was making your bed, putting away the silverware and folding up the reusuable bags mandatory for your guests? Is allowing me to stay up late and surf the Internet till five in the morning enough for you to extract a pound of flesh from me, you parasite? What the hell more do you want from me after you made me take a shower every day, wash my face every day and brush my teeth twice a day? Fuck You, Sis, Fuck You In. The. Ass.
I now regret coming here. While I once felt like a guest, I now feel stepped on, walked over and punched through. My sister is shaming me -- shaming me, for fuck's sake -- into money I don't have and money I shouldn't have to use. And I don't want to be told what to do. Goddamn, it feels like home. And that's where I'm going in two days! And now I want to go to there!!
Worst of all, I think I'll just do whatever she says. She always gets what she wants. Who am I to ruin her happiness the first several days as a married woman? And come on, you've got to help the man out. It's not like he's employed ... wait a second, he is. Well, it's not like his parents haven't give him money ... oh wait, they did. I'm like a motherfucking ATM to her, and I'm sick of it right now, I really, truly am.
I'm so pissed off about this that it's ruining our plans (yeah, we have to go out together because we're brother and sister!). She gave me a choice of whether we would go to this museum in the morning or afternoon, but just before she went to bed she said that there was a change in plans: We were all having lunch togther at noon.
"We?" I asked.
"You don't have to come," she replied, easily gaining the moral high ground and making me look like a peevish, selfish prick who really is only an oppressed, picked on brother who is forced to the edge of financialy bankruptcy just to make His Fucking Sister happy. I'll be up at the crack of noon, groggy but willing to do my part as the manipulated bro.
Goddamn, fuck all this shit.
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