Brother and Sister

I'm sitting on my bed, watching drizzle crawl down the window. It's cold but not cold enough to snow. The sky is mustard yellow, lit by the town. My reflection stares blankly at me like a police mugshot.

My door is shut but I can hear Laura bustling on the landing. I know this house so well I can build a mental picture of what she's doing by listening to the floorboards. She's picking up another box, passing the bathroom, taking it into her room, setting the box down, arranging its contents on the floor, sorting through it. It's getting on my nerves. How much stuff can she need? Maybe I'll understand when I go to university.

I feel hopeless. I'm just sitting here. I'm a passive observer, floating in a bubble while everyone else goes about their lives. It's like some kind of fog has settled over me.

I'm seeing him every night now, and think about that more than anything else. When I'm at college, or on a bus, or eating dinner, I think about it. I picture our previous meetings in my head - the setting, how it looked, how I felt - or think up new ones, imagining conversations, planning what I'll say to him. All through the Christmas holidays, all I did was think about it. I feel like I've missed out, missed a fragment of my life.

Is there something wrong with me? Does this happen to everyone? Is it my age? Do I need help?

A hasty knock on the door. I mumble something that's meant to sound like "come in" but comes out as a grunt.

The door clicks. I twist my neck and Laura is there, hair dangling like a pair of coiled springs. I swear she looks more like our mother every day.

"You're sitting in the exact same position you were in an hour ago."

I shrug my right shoulder.

"Jacob are you all right?"

I try to raise my eyebrows in a positive fashion. "Yeah."

"You're not."

She comes and perches on the other end of the bed, putting her chin in her hand in false ponder. "Is it because... you've got to go back to college on Tuesday? Or because I'm leaving?"

"Don't start that again."

"What?"

"The "is it because" thing. It doesn't work. There's nothing wrong with me."

"Are you depressed?"

"No!"

She stays silent for a while, her eyes darting about behind her glasses. She's looking at everything in my room; books, posters, laptop, DVDs, earphones. Laura is so intense, so precise. She notices everything.

After scanning the room she turns back to me. "I'm only worried about you, you know."

Well if I told you, Laura my dear, you'd worry even more.

"If there ever is anything bothering you, know that you can always tell me."

"I can't, you're away most of the time."

"What about Facebook? Or phone me, even."

I wrinkle my nose.

"Or mum! Talk to mum about it."

"About what?"

"I know there's something the matter, but I've accepted the fact that you're not going to tell me today. I just want you to know that if you do want to tell someone -"

"There's nothing the matter."

Laura grins, stifling a laugh. "I'm two years older than you. You don't remember the first year and a half of your life, but I do. I've known you longer than you have."

She stands up and stretches. "I do miss you, you know."

I give her a quizzical look.

"When I'm at uni. I'm just so busy I don't have much time to keep in touch with people, even family. People think I don't care about them but I do. You'll understand one day."

"If I ever go."

"'Course you will! You want to be an artist don't you? They do all sorts of art-farty courses at my uni."

Mum is calling up the stairs. The soup's ready.

Laura makes for the door. "Make the most of me, I'll probably be gone before you're even awake tomorrow." She looks over her shoulder and sees I'm still sitting. "C'mon lazybones!"

With a smirk I get up and follow her, and we playfully push and shove each other on the stairs.