She’s That Kind, Said Jenna

In a perfect world, the door she just slammed wouldn’t wake her brother from his sleep. The house would be hers, and she wouldn’t be having an upstairs neighbor that let their seven-year-old kid run around giving the ceiling those loud thumps at 11 p.m. on a Sunday night. But this wasn’t it. Not a perfect world, nor was it the one where she imagined a wise female empress ruling the system. This is the one where she had to walk home really paying attention to where she put her steps because she wouldn’t want to be stepping on a dog’s turd. Real story. This is the world where she only took short breaths, afraid of catching the familiar scent in the city, the pungent ammonia smell in every corner.

Jenna pulled her hands from the red face. It was obvious that anger had formed as a shade of magenta on her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she let out a sigh along with the apology.

“What happened?” Heru dragged a chair on their IKEA dining set.

“I’m the one who should be asking the question,” she took a seat in front of her brother. Heru scratched his chin.

“I broke Tedi’s hand.”

“That part, I heard. Why?”

“He said you’re a bitch.”

Jenna scoffed. Laughed. And coughed. “Excuse me?”

“A bitch, Jenna. He said you’re a bitch?”

She grabbed a mug with I Heart Bali and sipped the coffee she left from the morning. “Well, I am. For many reasons,” Jenna let out another snort out of her mouth. The coffee she hadn’t fully swallowed spilled. “Oh, for God’s sake!”

“Come on. Be an adult for once,” Heru studied his sister’s face. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why didn’t you show her the mirror? You’re not following the deal.”

Jenna dipped her finger inside the cold coffee. She put the finger on her mouth and tutted.

“But what is Tedi’s problem with that?”

“Because you didn’t show the mirror to that human, Tedi’s sister has to work hard on fanning the other human. It was so hard for his sister to keep that human sane the whole time. And you, failing to open that other human’s eyes makes it harder for Tedi’s sister. Okay?”

She raised her chair and walked to the human-sized mirror in their entryway. Her eyes traced the outline of her own shape. Her horns grew taller these days. Jenna tossed a look at Heru.

“You know why I let my human be blind to her own image?” Heru shook his head. “Alyssa’s human was the mirror, you know? If the confession she made doesn’t make my human see it, then she’s just that kind. Alright?”

“What kind?”

Jenna walked back to the dining table. She scanned her brother’s back. The wing had already shown.

“The kind that makes other humans have a bad feeling just by the idea of having an immediate proximity with her. The kind that makes other humans cry on their way home. The kind that makes other humans pray so that their loved ones wouldn’t have to face the same situation she caused. The kind that humans are being taught so that they can prevent themselves from turning into that version. The kind that they just have to accept that they are, existing. Maybe so that others can learn. Or compare. Or, I don’t know, talk about it and feel better about themselves?”

“Yeah, what kind is that?”

She sat in front of her brother and nudged his chin. She stared deep into his eyes and let her raven-colored teeth peek from behind her lips.

“The kind that I call my achievement.”

Originally published at https://www.sucibyt.com.