When it came to Spillum road trip traditions there were a few reoccurrences. Mainly, the trunk and backseat would invariably be crammed with too many luggage components: check, the amount of packing boxes made it impossible to look behind with the central mirror. There would also be music hand-picked for the trip; check, the playlist bounced around from Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, No Doubt, the Offspring, and a random operatic piece that the eldest Spillum sang along with. Thirdly, outside of the music the main road entertainment was normally engaging conversation with a side of games of verbal wit.
It was the lack of this third element that worried 24-year-old Rebecca Voll-Spillum, as she kept making glances to the left at her kid sister while driving. Which, given that this placed the driver behind a right hand steering wheel, meant she was also tasking half her brain to remember how to drive on the correct American side of the road.
But actually, the most important elements of a Spillum road trip were the copious amounts of drinks. Each passenger balanced an assortment of mega-gulp cups and bottles in their cup holders, door compartments, and clasped between Pauline’s feet on the passenger side. No road trip could truly be started until they had stopped by their local quick mart. After topping the gas tank of the vehicle it was all about sodas and slushies gotten in great volume for cheap. Sure, maybe they had a packet of gum or a candy bar as well, one of those rotating grill wieners for lunch, but for the Spillums it wasn’t all about the Benjamins or all about the Pentiums; it was all about the Beverages.
Sadly, Rebecca heard naught but the echoes of an empty cup after bringing the straw to her lips. She awkwardly pitched the drained peach slush into the overcrowded backseat, not very discreetly taking another look at her sister. For good reason.
“What?” 16-year-old Pauline finally broke the silence.
“So…don’t those still hurt?” When Rebecca had last seen her sister (it pained her that it had almost been two years) she hadn’t looked like this. Rather, the new distinguishing features on Pauline’s face were two piercings under her lip. Snakebites, they were called, two studs right above the chin.
“No,” Pauline replied stiffly, taking another sip from her drink.
Rebecca focused again on the road, her hair brushing the ceiling of her car as she turned her neck. When she had been on the orchestral tour overseas she meant to call her family weekly, especially her dear little sister. However there were the excuses of a busy performance schedule, seminars, and regions with unstable internet connections and little bandwidth for a video chat. And on the rare instances that all the stars aligned and Rebecca could have a short video chat with the folks back home…Pauline had not always been around the house.
“Why are we even driving all the way there in this tiny car,” Pauline said, not a question but a dour observation made after a long swallow of root beer.
“This tiny car is my new luck charm, Pauley, and after getting all the import paperwork sorted out I will drive this car anywhere until it dies or I do, whichever first.” The car had been a gift and a thankful means for Rebecca to break away from the orchestra whenever she needed some time to unwind.
“Drop the –ey, please.”
“Just Paul?” asked Rebecca. Only a curt nod came in reply from Paul-short-for-Pauline. Okay, unless she was misreading the resentment from her kid sister she obviously wasn’t as thrilled as Rebecca was to not only be reunited but also both going to a place where they’d be near each other again.
Rebecca gave out a low whistle (low G#) in place of a sigh. Such was the curse of being a musical prodigy. Rebecca might not look like it now, dressed in frankly so casual of clothes they could almost be considered pajamas, a treat compared to her usual wardrobe, but a musical prodigy she had been. She had first been discovered in late middle school and then in her later high-school years was on the fast track through all the best music conservatories across the country. First on piano, viola and then choir; Rebecca’s pitch was so perfect, her skills in adaptation so widespread that after a short concentrated study she could pick up the fundamental functions of any instrument. And that was merely the beginning.
In lieu of going to college like normal high school graduates, Rebecca the ‘gifted’ had auditioned and received the first Viola chair in a prestigious orchestra and almost immediately they were on a world tour across Asia and Europe. On the side she had continued her education getting an online degree in teaching. Just in case, she had reasoned, if being a career musician didn’t go over so well it would be something for her to do after. Many of her fellow musicians though praising her responsibility felt the outlook was foolish. Rebecca Voll-Spillum was talented, well liked, had made her debut on the classical music scene like none other in recent memory, how could her career not just be starting?
So it was quite the surprise all around when she got the position to teach far earlier than she anticipated.
Perhaps, when Rebecca was being honest with herself, there was some rather justified guilt she should be feeling. Back during her accelerated education the family had been driven to foster Rebecca’s musical talent. It couldn’t have been good for Pauley—Paul—the ‘normal’ daughter as she was dragged along with each move, plucked and plunked from/to different schools never long enough to make friends. At the very least, when they were younger the sisters had been very close. Closer than expected for siblings seven-and-some-bits-on-the-end years apart in age. Some of Rebecca’s favorite memories were of just the two of them, first riding on their bikes and then when Rebecca had a permit, driving to the closest Sonic franchise they could find and splitting a bounty of flavored neon-colored drinks or thick creamy shakes. Sometimes with a meal combo or snack pack but mainly both trying to one up the other in some private but special PG drinking contest, winner gets the peanut butter shake.
For a chain drive-in that boasted over a million drink and shake flavor combinations, the Spillum sisters had gotten damn close to tasting half of them.
Maybe, because they had been so friendly as sisters, when Rebecca went abroad it had been…betrayal of some kind. Possibly, it was so hard to read Pauline’s mood anymore. She had dropped the childhood nickname of ‘Pauley’ for ‘Paul,’ just one of the new surprises to learn about in the short timeframe of the Spillum sisters not-really catching up.
“So…” Rebecca threw out as the road before them climbed into higher elevations. (‘So, a needle pulling thread,’ which was actually sew, a homophone, and one of Rebecca’s many slights towards that particular mnemonic) Topics to talk about seemed narrow. It probably wouldn’t be wise to talk more about her experiences overseas, that would feel like rubbing it in when compared to Pauline’s more…’counterpoised’ actions in their time apart.
“…you lied about your age just for a part-time job?” Had seeing the snakebite piercings made her jump to conclusions about what kind of teenage rebellion little miss Paul had been up to? There were many horror stories it could have been, from ganging in bad crowds to playing loose with anybody, so ‘having a crappy food service gig’ was thankfully bland in comparison.
Pauline looked up towards her sister. Up as in a physical movement, not in sibling awe, as the Prodigy not only had the great talent but a tremendous growth spurt during her teen years. Genetics Paul was likely not going to inherent at her rate. “Yeah. Got a point you want to say? Got myself over five-hundred bucks before anyone found out.”
“No, no nothing,” Rebecca replied, wondering if the thick dabs of eye shadow had been before or after the snakebites. Although $500 had gone towards what, exactly? Given the current read of the situation the elder Spillum was likely not going to find out.
Every time she turned her head there were many little differences between them, apparent with Paul’s new fashion choices: thick hair kept in a shaggy medium length style; the aforementioned piercings, makeup, some brackish-purple nail polish on her fingernails and now semi-unreadable expressions. Although there were still their similarities as sisters. They both had the Spillum dark brown hair that looked black when wet. Similar straight nose, the grey/black eyes with a slight puffy quality. At a stretch, they even kept their front bangs at a matched length, only Rebecca has started to tie up the back of her hair. Slender frames, though Rebecca had toned some from her height where Paul had stayed boney. And a little lower…
Behind the wall of beverage cups that sat in her kid sister’s lap Rebecca recognized the familiar swell of a belly bloated with drink, a small paunchiness she dared not call cute lest Pauline started rolling her eyes at her. Rebecca was feeling rather waterlogged herself, her own evidence of guzzling on her taller frame, the common side effect to their frequent drinking contests or binges or whatever it should be labeled.
In truth, this bloating habit had been one solace of Rebecca’s whenever the stress of performing and travel got to her, though she’d been embarrassed at the thought of it becoming known amongst the multitude of the orchestra. However, the evidence that Paul had kept up this habit as well (they had just quaffed through a forgotten number of liters so far on this trip and Paul hadn’t complained) greatly improved Rebecca’s outlook.
No matter how much they had been apart or changed they had become, if they had both kept that shared sisterly ‘tradition’ from when they had been kids (no matter how stupid it was) it was the sign Rebecca needed that their relationship could be salvaged.
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