It makes sense to me that Lisa’s memories of Virginia are so positive. Her stories in the book offer a glowing account of growing up with her. She talks about how delightful Virginia was, how much fun and how helpful she could be in scaring off the bullies in the neighborhood.
Lisa hasn’t asked me about my experiences with Virginia growing up. As I said, she often used the pronoun ‘we’ in her stories, giving the reader the impression that I had the same experiences, that I felt the same about our sister.
I have vivid memories of her and Virginia delighting in each other. My thoughts are that Virginia doted on Lisa in a similar way that I guessed the Norton folks might have doted on her and our mother. I’d say Virginia was more of an aunt than a sister, or maybe something of a surrogate mother really.
Still only a child herself though, she lacked the maturity required for healthy mothering skills. Humans are born narcissists, on average only managing to outgrow that narcissism sometime in our early to mid-twenties. Virginia was years away from that possibility. Typically, narcissistic mothers tend to cultivate what’s called a Golden Child. If they have two, the other is a Scapegoat.
For Virginia, Lisa was something of a living doll, one she could care for and adore, like playing mommy with her toys. When Lisa spoke, I remember Virginia gushing with praise and encouragement. When Lisa was sad or hurt, I can recall Virginia stepping up to defend her and right those wrongs.
Virginia rarely expresses herself in half measures either. If Virginia feels love and tenderness, she’ll flood you with the most intoxicating tonic. Likewise, if she wants to hurt you, she’ll make sure her venom soaks deep and leaves you in a state of paralyzed anguish.
So as Lisa enjoyed the rapture of Virginia’s attention, I became subject to her scorching contempt.
In her stories, Lisa mentioned the nonsense plays Virginia would invent and had us perform together. I agree with her account almost entirely, but my recollections take on a different cast.
She suggests we shared fits of laughter. Virginia’s frenzied antics were delirious and often hard to resist. Yes, I’d laugh along, but not with the same carefree abandon. Just as often, I’d find myself laughing only to realize that the joke was at my expense. So although there were times I couldn’t help giggle, there was always a part of me that kept watch, careful I wasn’t being played.
A few years ago, I wrote a poem about my sisters. — I hear you groaning.— Ok sorry, but I’m going to force it on you anyway. It does a better job of describing the experience than I might do in prose. This is the section about Virginia:
As it turns out, The Goddess was gifted. An alchemist, She took The caustic smoke of bitterness, Swirled it a few times For dramatic effect, Blending it with her talent for making things fun. This child's Evil clown nightmare, One of her favourite games was A kind of Verbal knife-throwing, With me Spinning on the target wheel. Her audience-of-one Beside her, nearly Pissing herself then Tumbling To meet the ground, In giggles so innocent they hurt. I mean What toddler doesn't love A good carnival act? My once-friend, In the end The eager wide-eyed mug.
In her book, Lisa actually admits that Virginia could be scary, but that this made her instrumental in fending off neighborhood bullies. Virginia was Lisa’s champion, no doubt about that. She could count on Virginia. For Lisa, I imagine this must’ve been very reassuring.
I saw their relationship as something of a love affair, I have memories of them standing in our gravel driveway, or in the street somewhere, or wherever the threat might be coming from. Lisa would be standing a pace or two behind, as our sister would perform her role as her loyal attack dog. This type of thing happened regularly since Lisa seemed to attract bullies more than most. I’m glad she felt she had a backup, at least for some of those times. I think I was jealous that I didn’t get to enjoy that same luxury.
And yet, Lisa’s description seems to indicate that I enjoyed that protection too. But, Virginia was never my protector, she was not my caring and conscientious teacher of compassion (neither toward animals or otherwise, as Lisa says in her book), nor were field trips with her to the NAC or the EX any picnic for me, as they seemed to be for Lisa.
I don’t blame Lisa for not knowing this. Her accounts paint an enviable delight in Virginia’s company. I can definitely imagine how the thrill of that would have dazzled her enough to make it hard for her to notice anything else. She may have retrospectively painted me into the mental picture of her memories. After all, we were often together. Lisa has always been painfully unobservant though. I’ve heard our mother tell countless stories of how easily she could get lost walking a straight line from A to B. It was one of the main reasons I was expected to keep her with me at all times, a responsibility I admit I often wanted to shirk. More on that later.
When my own two kids were toddlers, I deliberately took notice of how they played together. You’ll know why in a minute. There are distinct hallmarks to toddler play, one of which is the common practice of running with a playmate’s idea during imaginative play. Watching J & A, there were countless times when one or the other would announce something to the tune of “I’m a firefighter and I’m gonna save everyone in the building that’s on fire!” The other would immediately jump in with something along the lines of “Me too! I’m a firefighter too! An’ I’m gonna save all the hamsters in the building!” There’s no competition, no friction. They carry on like this, cooperating in building a fantasy and having fun. Sometimes they go with one kid’s idea, sometimes it’s the other one’s. It doesn’t really matter to them because it’s all about how much fun they can have.
I later learned that, according to childhood development experts, it’s a common and universal pattern. It’s purpose is to help kids stay connected during play, to bond. Sure enough, neither of my two kids dismissed the other one for copying their idea, I’m guessing because that would only end in tears and stop the fun. I believe the bond that my kids still enjoy together saw its early roots in these episodes of non-judgmental playtime.
Lisa and I were not given the same opportunities. For example, on this one afternoon, Lisa suddenly announced she was a superhero and wore the trademark towel cape around her neck to prove it. She was about three years old and I about four. She stood, arms akimbo and said “I’m a superhero and my name is Helpy-L!” Of course, I thought that was just the best idea ever and I wanted to play along. I immediately reacted in typical toddler form, making my own announcement: “Me too! Me too! I’m a superhero too!” I may even have come up with a name of my own, but I’m not sure, because just as my words came tumbling out, Virginia’s head snapped in my direction, a monstrous look of anger on her face as she said in what I can only describe as a fierce growl “Don’t steal her idea, get your own! You’re so selfish! You have no imagination.” Lisa’s eyes fixed on her, went to me, then back to her. Three years old is a very impressionable age. Toddlers will believe anything you tell them.
Anyway, that’s where the memory ends, because then I felt like I was drowning in shame and humiliation, not to mention feeling the familiar sting of rejection, all for behaving like a normal toddler wanting to play and belong.
Later, having delighted in Lisa’s adorable cleverness, Virginia was inspired to draw the cutest little caricature of her as “Helpy-L”, belly button, chubby cheeks, and all. It was amazing and everyone, including me, oooo’ed and aaaah’ed appropriately over it. It was such a winner that our mother taped it to the fridge, where it remained, a daily reminder of Virginia’s habit of shaming me, until the day I moved out over a decade later.
Lisa and I were born with different qualities and personalities, but if my own children are any indication (J&A are wonderfully different and equally fantastic), those differences should not have been enough to cause the toxic antipathy between us while growing up. My opinion is that Virginia’s juvenile habit (remember, she was only 12 or 13 in that last story) of regularly pitting us against each other is what would inevitably lock us into the absurd roles of good kid (Lisa) and bad kid (me).
That toxic imbalance would also be compounded over the years until it became an accepted and immutable fact. It became almost as if it had never been any other way, as if we both had been born that way, that it was hardwired, destined.
But it wasn’t hardwired. Although Lisa was too young to remember, I still have memories of just us together before she’d fully bought into Virginia’s smear campaign. Our indoctrination didn’t happen overnight, after all, and I cherish the mental images of an ancient, fun-filled, but brief toddler friendship to this day.
Now, despite my efforts to heal it in the years since, I think the divide carved between us in childhood was just too enormous for Lisa to cross. Ultimately, it robbed us of any hope for a friendship in adulthood, so after over forty years of trying to bridge that gap, I’ve had to concede defeat.
Meanwhile, Virginia hasn’t acknowledged how much she abused me either. Maybe guilt led her to bury those memories deep. I would understand that. I’ve had to face my own dark side, and it’s fucking hard, so I don’t hold it against her. I don’t believe Virginia has made much progress in letting her own dark side go, which is likely why she still suffers from an ocean of resentment and ever-threatening anger boiling under the surface to this day.