Sister Versus Brother 1 - Cindy
by MBP  MWFAN318@aol.com 
An installment in a continuing sister versus brother series.


How I hated her, I thought, the ferocity of my feelings a surprise. As I
watched Cindy flitting about the guests, a confident smile on her pretty face,
a glib line for all, I realized I despised my little sister. Actually, I
didn’t really hate her, just all the attention she always got. But at that
moment, I hated her.

It was my 15th birthday party. My mother had insisted on taking the family out
to dinner. When we got home, there were lots of people in the house. Mom had
invited a number of my friends, including some girls, plus assorted family
members. My cousins were all present, as well as my uncles and aunts, and one
of my grandparents had flown in from California. I was elated by the turnout,
but then the good mood ebbed as the anger filled me.

The party was for me, but Cindy took it over, as usual. My friends paid more
attention to her then to me; my family was even worse. I guess there was just
something about her. Cindy had turned 13 a month ago. She was slim, had long
blonde hair, and was quite beautiful. Today she was wearing a short white
dress with nude pantyhose. Her white heels lie in the corner of the living
room. She looked like springtime. I could see all of my male friends looking
at her, some staring openly. One would think this would cause a problem for my
female friends. But it didn’t. Cindy was so friendly and funny with no open
conceit, that the girls liked her also.

As I mentioned, my family was even more Cindy-centric. I got the Happy
Birthday treatment for a few seconds from everyone, then they gathered around
her. My uncles hung on her every word, my grandmother practically ignored me.
But I think it was my cousins that bothered me the most. Cindy and I were the
oldest of the cousins, and one would think I would be revered, as the oldest
male. But it was Cindy that my younger relatives idolized. And watching it
all, on MY birthday, was killing me.

I disappeared into my bedroom, hearing all of the noise below me. I doubt
anyone realized I was gone. I stewed for a while on my bed, all sorts of nasty
thoughts passing through my head, when I finally decided on a course of
action. I had had enough; it was time to do something. It was certainly
inappropriate to do this TODAY, at this "festive" moment, but I really wasn’t
thinking clearly. I went back downstairs.

I saw Cindy, still the center of attention. It didn’t appear anyone missed me.
I walked over to my little sister and whispered a few words in her ear. I then
proceeded to the family room, and waited.

The family room was a large area that was off-limits during the party. It was
always a mess, and my mother, the proud housekeeper, designated it a waste
area. The room had a TV and VCR, a Ping-Pong table, board games, lots of
stuffed animals (not mine!), some weights, a mat, carpeting and a chinning
bar. It was a play room and my mother had long ago given up the idea that
anyone was going to put anything away. So it was here I waited furtively, the
door cracked, for Cindy to walk by. And she did.

Without warning, I grabbed Cindy around the neck, and dragged her into the
room. She was too surprised to immediately struggle. This allowed me to get a
good grip, nice and tight, although short of choking her. Cindy finally
understood her predicament, and attempted to dislodge my grip. It was
difficult - she was stronger than I expected, I guess - but I managed to hold
on. Cindy didn’t panic. She continued to put pressure on my arm, and moved me
around until we backed into one of the walls. I held on gamely, but she took a
couple of steps away from the wall and then suddenly backed up hard, smashing
us against the concrete. This loosened my grip. Cindy quickly grabbed my neck
with one of her arms and spun and the next thing I knew I was flying over her
onto the mat. I landed hard but got up immediately and turned around to face
her. My sister was smiling.

"You don’t want to do this," she said quietly. "You know I can beat you up."

Beat me up? I didn’t know this. Or did I? Until Cindy said that, I never
really considered that possibility. She had just flipped me, however, and
despite my having the element of surprise we were now on even terms. And Cindy
was better than me at a lot of things. She was smarter and beat me in chess,
checkers, most of the board games, and at cards. Cindy also beat me in
Ping-Pong and tennis, could swim faster, and regularly out-shot me when we
played "H-O-R-S-E." But I never even thought of her winning a fight against
me. I thought about it now.

I was two years older and about 5-6 inches taller. She was slim and pretty; I
was starting to fill out. I had to be stronger than her; I desperately wanted
to believe that. She was smiling confidently, her position enhanced by my
hesitation. I couldn’t back out now, I couldn’t.

"No you can’t," I screamed, as I attacked her. We grappled, body to body with
no technique, each of us trying to be the stronger one. Cindy’s body was
smooth and supple and strong; my weight advantage was not problem for her. She
got me under some control and hooked her foot behind my knee, and we tumbled
to the ground, Cindy on top. I tried to roll on top of Cindy, and almost
succeeded, but she rolled me back. Both of us struggled for all we were worth.
I couldn’t dislodge my little sister, and she was having almost as big a
problem controlling me.

I was not happy. Cindy was winning. She had gotten control on top, she had
tripped me, she was now on top of me. I was trying my hardest, but she was
making headway. Cindy was slowly moving up on my body, was now on my stomach,
and she was trying to make her way to my chest. Her arms were equally matched
to mine, her shapely legs stronger than mine, her chest, with small
13-year-old breasts, kept me pinned to the mat. I was starting to tire. Cindy
could feel it and smiled, keeping her eyes staring at mine, not even paying
attention to our clashing arms. She knew my body was under control, as she sat
her full weight on my shoulders. It was just a matter of time.

Cindy grabbed my wrists with her newly-manicured hands and crossed my arms
over my face. She held them there for 30 seconds, still staring at me,
although I often closed my eyes. She then separated my arms to push them to
the mat. I had a little fight left and it took awhile, but Cindy sat on my
shoulders and securely pinned my arms to the mat. She held me for perhaps a
minute, then let go of my arms and simply sat on my chest. There was no need
for concession; she had won.

"Why did you attack me?" Cindy asked, keeping me pinned. "It’s your birthday.
You know I’m stronger than you. I try to stay away from stuff like this; I
don’t want to make you feel bad. I don’t understand you."

"Then why did you have to take over my party?" I screamed, tears welling in my
eyes. "Everyone is talking to you and ignoring me, as usual. Why do you always
need all the attention? I’m your older, bigger brother. I can’t understand why
you’re better than me at everything. It’s just not fair." By now I was sobbing
buckets.

A strange look found Cindy’s eyes. She got up off me, and hauled me upright.
"I didn’t realize you felt this strongly," she said, starting to cry also.
"I’m very sorry."

It was not a reaction I expected. I grabbed some tissues and dried the tears,
both hers and mine. I pressed her to me, unexpectedly needing to comfort her,
as Cindy continued to bawl.

"I don’t hate you, sis," I said. "I just can’t understand this. I can’t
understand why you’re better-looking, smarter and more athletic. I don’t know
why everyone likes you better. And I didn’t realize you were stronger than me
until just now. Why would I think that? I’m bigger and heavier and older, I’m
a guy, and you’re a skinny girl. I wouldn’t think any of your friends are
stronger than me, so why would I think you were?"

The faucets were closing. Cindy asked, "Remember what happened 3 years ago?" I
just shook my head. "We were at Lisa’s (my oldest cousin - now 11) house; they
were just little kids. We were playing tag, jumping around, roughhousing,
wrestling, etc.. I got you in a headlock and pulled you to the floor, and held
you there until you said uncle. You wanted to get back at me and challenged me
to arm-wrestle; I beat you at that also. Our cousins made a big fuss. Since
that day, I knew I was stronger than you, and I thought you knew it also."

I was starting to remember the incident. I had completely blocked it out. It’s
amazing what our minds can do. And I remembered something else.

"Didn’t I arm-wrestle Lisa also?" My sister just nodded. "She beat me too," I
added miserably. No wonder my cousins had so little respect for me.

"Since that day, I’ve avoided any sort of strength contests with you," added
Cindy. "I remember what a bad time of it you had after losing to us."

"Thanks for reminding me," I said earnestly. When Cindy started to protest, I
added, "I really mean that. At least it explains a few things to me. And I
appreciate you not taking advantage of it. But I still can’t understand why I
couldn’t beat you, or even Lisa."

"I don’t know either," Cindy said. "And I’m sorry, truly sorry, that I hog all
the attention. I’ll try to be a little more considerate."

"Just promise me one thing, Cindy."

"What’s that?"

"That you’ll never let me win at anything because you feel pity."

Cindy laughed. "I never have. I know it bugs you, but I kind of love beating
you."

"Well, I’m going to win one of these days, sis. You just wait and see. Now
let’s go back to the party."

"OK," Cindy said, giving me a tight hug. Giggling, she lifted me bodily off
the floor. "It may be awhile before you do."

Six inches off the ground, all I could do was nod yes. And as we walked
hand-in-hand back to the party, another thought occurred to me: What was I
going to do about Lisa?