Glitch (2022)
Sometimes I wish my sister was dead. Perhaps this thought is too macabre. But, given the events that have taken place over the past 48 hours, it’s hard to get it off my mind.
BY RUTH OUDIT
IMAGE BY JASMINE COWAN
Sometimes I wish my sister was dead. Perhaps this thought is too macabre. But, given the events that have taken place over the past 48 hours, it’s hard to get it off my mind.
I watch Ava parade her 5.13-carat princess-cut diamond engagement ring as if she has no care in the world. You’re trying too hard, I think, wishing she could hear my thoughts. Her ostentatious display is fitting, I guess, seeing as we are at a party celebrating her engagement to Benjamin Grant, who’s practically the Mark Zuckerberg of the plastic surgery world. Ava, an aspiring model and actress, was one of Ben’s clients. Everyone knows how that story goes. Ava’s future in-laws adore her, so they decide to host an extravagant party to flaunt how much money they have. How kind of them.
“Annie, darling, you look miserable,” Ava says as she slips her hand into Ben’s. “Why don’t you go freshen up in the ladies’ room?”
She knows I prefer being called by my birth name but insists on calling me Annie, a nickname from the 1999 musical we watched as kids. I lick the 24-year-old Veuve Clicquot—another grandiose gesture from the Grants—that was clinging to my bottom lip. I silently scold myself for relishing the nutty flavour and honeysuckle notes. I’m reluctant to oblige Ava, but I do as she suggests, only because I’ve been searching for an excuse to leave. I need air.
I catch a glimpse out of the 24-foot floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook historic architecture, Lake Michigan, and the Chicago River. Ben’s parents have connections and somehow managed to secure The Grand Ballroom at Trump Chicago for their party. The ballroom is stunning, I’ll admit. All 4,480 square feet of it. The venue is a bit over the top if you ask me, but the Grants wanted only the best for their “beloved Benjamin and Ava,” as they repeated so often. Ava doesn’t mind that Ben’s family are Trump supporters; to her, their wealth is more important than their politics.
Navigating my way through the sea of notable faces, a concoction of luxurious perfumes assaults my nose. I hold in a sneeze as I hear snippets of the Grants’ conversations while slipping by.
“Oh, you know us—we like to go all out,” Mrs. Grant says.
Mr. Grant chimes in, “That’s how we do it in the Grant family.”
I scoff and continue toward the exit. The band’s rendition of Ben E. King’s “Stand by Me” brings back sickening memories of this past weekend with Ava. I can taste bile crawling up my throat but somehow manage to make it to the washrooms before emptying my stomach in a marble toilet. God, even the washrooms are obnoxiously lavish.
I try to control my breathing, so I don’t start hyperventilating. A wave of exhaustion sweeps over me; the realization sinks in that I haven’t slept in the past two days. If I don’t say something now, it’ll all just get worse. I open the stolen mini champagne bottle I’ve been keeping in my purse and greedily rinse my mouth to swallow the guilt-ridden feeling that’s been bubbling up inside of me. I don’t understand how Ava can hide everything behind her flawless public façade.
I have half a mind to ride the elevator down all 16 floors to the main lobby so I can escape and get some fresh air, but I know I’ll never make it to the exit without Ava noticing, so instead I give myself a pep talk in the mirror, plaster a false smile on my face, and head back to the Grand Ballroom.
On my way back, I pass a few mildly inebriated guests that have strayed from the party. One tries to get in my face, and the stench from their breath repels me. Someone needs to cut back on the tequila shots. A discordant harmony of laughter and meaningless pleasantries fill my ears as I enter the ballroom with one goal in mind: talk to Ava.
I scan the room until my eyes spot her silky, eggshell-white Versace evening gown. I make a beeline to her, feeling the soft material of my less glamorous dress brush against my thighs. She laughs in hedonistic delight in response to something said by the strangers she’s with.
“Ava, we need to talk,” I whisper in her ear.
“Can it wait?” she responds. “I’m in the middle of a conversation with Benny’s aunt and uncle who flew in from Berlin to be here. Let me introduce you to them.”
“No, this can’t wait,” I say, slightly raising my voice.
Ava clenches her jaw so tight that I fear her teeth will break. She relents and follows me to the corner of the room after making her apologies to Ben’s relatives.
“Annie, what is so important that you have to be so rude?”
I swallow several times before speaking. “We need to talk about what happened the other night.”
A look of horror flashes over Ava’s face so briefly that I almost miss it. She recovers quickly, though. “We both agreed to forget it. Let’s just have fun tonight.” She places her hands on my arms. “Maybe we’ll go on a sister trip next month to forget everything. Just you and me, just like old times.”
I withdraw as if I’ve been burned, her hands falling away from my arms. I wonder if she can sense the anger radiating from me. Part of me wants to wrap my hands around her delicate neck and watch her struggle for air. It’s her fault for getting me caught up in her mess.
“Ava, stop it. You can’t pretend nothing happened. What if someone finds out?”
“No one’s going to find out, okay? I know you think there was someone else in the woods, but you’re just being paranoid. We were careful. I have you to thank for that.”
My head starts pounding from her ignorance. “You have to tell the police about—”
“Annelise!” she interrupts. She seems taken aback by her sudden outburst and her use of my full name. She drags me into a quieter hallway, her acrylic nails digging into my skin. “I made it home after a night out with my friends and went to bed. Isn’t that right?”
For a moment, I feel like a frightened child. Then, something snaps in me. “No, Ava, listen to me. You can do the right thing. Just turn yourself in and the police will understand that you didn’t mean to do it. It wasn’t your fault.”
She looks around before she steps toward me, and lowers her voice until it is barely audible. “Are you kidding me? I may not have gone to law school like you, but I’m not stupid! I watched all twenty seasons of Law and Order—I know what will happen.” She steps even closer. “I was drunk when the car lost control. He came out of nowhere, I swear!” Salty tears run down her face. What a touching performance. I almost want to wrap my arms around her. Almost.
“Please,” she sobs, sniffling between words. “This will ruin my life. What about my career, and my wedding? I’ll lose everything! You can’t tell anyone, especially the police. You’re only going to incriminate yourself because you helped me. Please. You’re with me on this, right?”
After a few beats, my face crumples, tears well up in my eyes, and my head involuntarily nods. She wraps her arms around me, and I surprise myself by returning the familiar gesture. The embrace is warm and satisfying, like a sip of chai tea, solidifying our trust. She releases me and gives me one last look before heading back to her party.
I silently curse because Ava is right. She called me that night, completely frantic. It was the first time I realized that she wasn't indestructible. Ava was petrified, and I was her first call when she was in trouble. I couldn’t resist—I had to help her. We’re sisters. And, as our mother used to say, the bond between sisters is unbreakable.
The vibrations from my phone make me jump, the default Apple ringtone confined inside my purse. It’s my co-worker Lisa. I ignore the call as I sigh and retreat to the windows. Gazing at the starless sky, I wish I had Aladdin’s magic carpet to fly away.
Breathe in, breath out. I repeat the phrase a few times until my heart rate stabilizes. My phone pings with an incoming text message. It’s probably just Lisa again. I roll my eyes and check the notification anyway.
I’m surprised to see a message from an unknown number. Idly, I open my messaging app and read the words that make my heart drop: Do as I say, and no one finds out about what you and Ava did.
Taking deep breaths, I try to reassure myself. I ask who it is and receive a photo almost immediately in response: Ava and me, in the woods. Two nights ago. Standing over a body.
What do you want? I text back, suddenly alert.
Simple, is the response. Don’t let Ben marry Ava.
Ruth Oudit is an aspiring law professional. She is currently enrolled in the Justice Studies program at the University of Guelph-Humber, where she will receive an Honours Bachelor of Applied Science in Justice Studies and a diploma in Community and Justice Services. When Ruth is not working or studying, she enjoys reading and writing thrillers. Her goal is to expand her knowledge and gain more experience cultivating her writing skills.
Image: Glitch (Jasmine Cowan, 2022)
Edited for publication by Helen Chevreau, as part of the Creative Book Publishing program.
HLR Spotlight is a collaboration between the Faculty of Media & Creative Arts and the Faculty of Liberal Arts & Sciences and Innovative Learning at Humber College in Toronto, Ontario. This project is funded by Humber’s Office of Research & Innovation.