Childhood Memories and French Perfume

         Sometimes I feel like an only child.  My sister is twelve years older than I, so we never did a lot together.  By the time I was in Kindergarten she was in high school.  When I was in second grade, she dated a man from Baltimore.  They married and moved back east. 

         In honor of my high school graduation, Sharon and her husband, Nick came to visit and I was determined to enjoy every moment.  Side by side on the sofa, Sharon and I were having such a good time.  Reminiscing about our childhood days brought back so many good times and laughter.  Then it struck me:  I'd never told her about 'the accident'.

         "Remember when I was little and jealous because your boyfriends gave you things?" I began.

         "You were the brattiest little sister around," she laughed, giving me a sharp elbow to the ribs.  I blushed as she recounted my mischief.  "You always ate my candy, stole my flowers, tried on my clothes, and wanted to wear my perfume."

         "Who was it gave you that bottle of perfume, anyhow?"

         Sharon thought for a moment.  "Do you mean the bottle of green stuff or the fancy French 'par fume'?"  Her voice trailed off dreamily.

         I giggled nervously, "The French one, I think.  It was a little square bottle with a fancy gold cap.  On one side it said 'Eau de Toilette'."

         "That's the bottle Nick gave me before we were engaged?"  Sharon smiled sweetly and wiggled her fingertips flirtatiously at her husband. 

         "I guess that's the one," I stalled; no longer sure I wanted to confess my trespass.  I'd forgotten it was from Nick.

         "What about it?" 

         Her cheeks began to flush and I knew she'd be angry.  "Well, one day when you were on a date I took it off the dresser and..."  I paused and looked across the room at our parents.  A moment before we had all been laughing, having fun; now all eyes were examining me closely.  I should've just kept my mouth shut.  I bit my lip and swallowed hard.

         "'And' what, Suzanne?" Sharon scowled, emphasizing her words just as she had when we were younger and she was annoyed with me.

         "I spilled some of it," I confessed.  "I asked Mom what 'Eau de Toilette' meant and she said it was French for 'Toilet Water'."  I spoke quickly hoping Sharon wouldn't understand.

         "Oh no," Sharon moaned.  "You didn't."

         "I didn't want you to know so I dunked the bottle in the toilet and filled it back up to how full it had been before," I added regretfully, backing away.

         "How could you?" she shrieked, jumping to her feet and glowering down at me.

         "I knew it was your favorite perfume," I continued, "so every time it looked like it wasn't as full as before, I...I...I refilled it for you."

         "I used that perfume at my wedding!" she cried, horrified.  "When we moved to Baltimore I thought it was starting to evaporate because it wasn't staying full.  Oh my goodness!  I used that perfume this morning!"  Her lips contorted into an open-mouthed frown of horror and anger.  She quickly covered it with her hand and just as quickly waved the offending member away from her face, glaring at me.

         "I didn't know how to tell you," I said.  "I felt so bad all this time that I saved my allowance for years and bought you a new bottle," I finished.  "Can you ever forgive me?"

         Her expression gradually softened and the flush of anger receded.  "As I said: 'the brattiest little sister ever'."


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