Reprobate

Unreliable scally with a heart if gold. No. Loveable rogue. Erk. Diamond in the rough? Definitely not. Angel with a dirty face? No.No.No.How would Fiona describe her feckless sister Caitlin? How is she going to introduce the woman who found it more important to swim with bloody dolphins than to attend their younger sister’s wedding to her new wife? Especially, when new, meant over two years. Fiona couldn't even muster a sigh she'd used those up years ago. The eldest is meant to be sensible. Measured. Grounded. Not so with Caitlin. After their mother's death, she had become worse. She'd always been restless, to Fiona's Cancerian composure. She had inherited errant from their father. Now, Caitlin had decided to press pause, and when she did however irritatingly itinerant she had been, everyone forgave her. Fine then. Never one to ruffle feathers Fiona followed suit. Argued with her partner explained away the social faux pas and excused the behaviour.

-Mina, can I talk with you?

-Ok that doesn't sound good

-My sister’s back from Iceland.

-And?

-Well, she'd like to visit?

-And you said no, right?

-Wrong.

-What?

-She's my sister we are all we have

-Please, she didn't remember her only sister 2 and a half years ago you know on that insignificant occasion called our wedding day?

-She apologised...

-Not to me.

-It was a little difficult when you would not speak to her

-How do you suppose that's changed?

I don't, but then, how can she apologise?

-Don't be reasonable, it makes it hard to maintain my annoyance. Besides, I haven't forgiven her

-I just said she could stay.

-Here?

-Of course here.

-No!

-Come on

-I can't, Fi, she has not even sent so much as a card. Not a phone call nothing.

-I know.

-Then why are you so OK about this? You were devastated, her suit is still in your wardrobe, like some relic from a saint.

Fiona had hoped keeping it would turn the clock back, but it hadn't.

-I know it's a hard ask, but I also know there is a compassionate part of you that can do this

-That's a vicious rumour

-Please.

-I was sad at first, then I was angry because you were so sad. She let you down, in the worst way

-Well her timing is right, it took this long to get over it, and we gave a daughter, she can be the bad aunt, to your prim parenting.

-I'm not happy.

-But you’ll say yes?

-Can I think about it?

-Well her train is here in an hour.

-You have got to be joking. When did you know?

-Sorry about a week ago.I knew you would want more time, then you would have said say no anyway, always do.

-That was only once, and it was about buying that ridiculously expensive car, and I don't believe you.

-OK, I knew a month back.

Mina made a noise like a broken clutch.

-I'm not staying

-Mina don't do 'her or me' that's not you.

-Clearly you don't know who I am. If you thought this would be alright.

-She's my sister, and for all her mistakes I love her she, she cannot undo what happened, but we can teach Anand how to be a bigger person.

-She's 18 months old

-Good place to start.

-Well it's done now.

Caitlin nearly missed her stop. She could blame her tiredness on travelling, but in all truth, she was still drunk on badly made cocktails. She fiddled with her wallet for the ticket. So many tickets. A small wad of Icelandic Krona. Caitlin is the sort of person who went to buy a round in a English pub and got Euros out to pay for it. Most others would annoy, but because Caitlin has basically always been known for nothing but travelling, she could get away with it.

Caitlin dragged the battered sack across the gap she was too squishy eyed to mind. 

She saw her face in the moving glass for a few seconds and wished she was a vampire.

She could see her wiry mixed Scottish-Jamaican hair still had the corkscrews that had made her sexy in college, but she could also see where her copper skin had put fine lines under each word of her history. The train left the station. Caitlin turned the camera of her phone back to front to chart the damage done to her psyche by the speeding reflection. Phew. She still had it. She thought. Along with the hair, her winning cards were her eyes No one could get passed them; one chocolate the other hazel like someone had run out of brown ink before completing her. She mashed her hair into an unruly top knot, slipped her phone back into her jeans pocket and made her way to the exit. Duty calls.