What follows is a series of email, text, and telephone conversations between two very different sisters, Brigette, and Betty Carson. Enthusiastic, and ebulliant, together, they could be manic. The distance between them, and the differences in them. had dampened their relationship since Betty went to LA.
Brigette lives at home with their parents in Foxham, Massachusetts. She is a nineteen-year-old, promiscuous sophomore at The University of Rhode Island. Her sister Betty is a twenty-four-year-old newlywed, married for two years and one month to Adam Glennworth. She, and her husband are trying for a baby in Hollywood, California, where Betty is a model, and Adam works as a production assistant for a movie studio.
Brigette is wild, beautiful, and sensuous. She beds sexy teenage boys, but prefers older married men because, as she puts it, “They know what they’re doing, I don’t have to do all the work, and they don’t catch feelings.”
Betty spends most of her time making a home for Adam, working out, and competing for status with her high-powered model friends. She hates her friends passionately, and is more than a little jealous of Brigette’s freestyle life. She consoles herself with the knowledge that after college, Brigette will have to marry some schmuck, or get a job, or both, and be miserable like everybody else.
firstname.lastname@example.org 10:12 a.m. eastern time 4/15
Hey Betty Boop, I crushed it with some random guy last night. It was fucking heaven. I’m not going to let him stay random. I met him at the Blue Velvet Club downtown in Providence. He played like he was smooth. And he was tight. Firm, muscular, and what a face. A cross between Jude Law and Daniel Craig. When I talked to him, I expected him to have an English accent, and if he did, I would have fucked him right on the dancefloor. Small-talk, blah-blah, he’s twenty-eight years old. He’s in banking, likes to work out, likes film, and loves to fuck. His name is Drew Littleton, and he’s anything but little, if you know what I mean. We went to his place, and it’s huge, clean, even the bathroom, and he’s got a king-sized bed. He’s got skills in bed. I got his number, and left my birth control pills at his apartment, so I had to call him this morning, and it wasn’t a fake number. Also, it reassured him that I’m going to get preggers. I’ve got skills. He’s going to call me this afternoon. Fuck yeah! TTYS H&K
email@example.com 9:43 a.m. pacific time 4/15
Text from Brigette to Betty
I don’t know about you Brigette. What are you doing? Seriously? From what you’re telling me, you’re not using protection. I mean, you’re using birth control, but what about venereal disease? Do you know how widespread herpes is? Brigette, what’s in your head? I don’t want to sound like mom but what are you thinking? Of course, I’m glad you finally found someone you like. I hope it works out. Most of the men you date never satisfy you. 5:41 p.m. eastern time 4/15
I’m sorry, Betty Boop. I know you’ve got troubles. You used to salivate over my adventures. Are you turning into mom after all? I guess from your tone, you have no good news on the knock up front yet. Seriously? Are you o.k? All judgy and preachy when I tell you I’m happy. TTYL
Text from Betty to Brigette 9:31 p.m. pacific time 4/15
I owe you a phone call. I’ve just been too busy today. You were right. Got tested again today, and no baby joy, not that we haven’t been trying. I’m getting sick of the sight of Adam’s dick. I never thought that would happen, but they are pretty disgusting to look at. Though they serve a purpose. Or at least they’re supposed to. Whenever I ovulate, we hump all day, and night, still nothing. I finally made an appointment at a fertility clinic, next week, for both of us. I hope everything’s going o.k. with you, and Drew Littleton. And his big one…LOL TTYS love Betty.
Brigette calls Betty on the phone 5:08 a.m. pacific time
8:08 a.m. eastern time 4/16
Betty’s home phone, on the bedside table, rings repeatedly, waking her from a mysterious dream of dancing squirrels. She grabs for it, while Adam groans, “Who the fuck is calling so early?”
Betty feels worry creep along her spine, “Someone from home. Something bad probably.”
Betty lurches for the phone, knowing she isn’t going to like what she hears, and answers it, “Hello?”
Brigette cries on the other end of the line. Betty’s heart sinks. She asks immediately, “Are Mom and Dad o.k.?”
Brigette sobs “Yeah.”
Brigette’s tone turns from sorrow to anger, “It’s about me, for fucks sake.”
“Brigette snarls through tears, “So if it’s about me, it’s not that important, huh?”
“No, no, of course not. What’s wrong?” Betty squeezes her temple, as she feels a headache coming on. She adores Brigette but her sister can be such a pain.
Brigette breaks down. When she is able to speak, dismay, and a trace of recrimination fills her words, “Well you were right. Always use a condom.”
Brigette sighs, “At least I’m not pregnant. It’s a strain of gonorrhea they’ve never seen before. They gave me a z-pac, and pyridium for the pain. The toilet looks like a crime scene when I pee. The pyridium turns my pee the color of Ronald McDonalds hair but it dulls the pain, and I don’t have to pee so much. I was peeing ten times an hour before I took it. They want me to go to a specialist. How fucking embarrassing is that going to be?”
Betty feels the headache spreading across her temples. It was only a matter of time, with Brigette’s promiscuity that something like this would happen. Maybe this would be the catalyst that taught her a lesson, “I don’t know what to say Brid. I don’t want to be cruel but you always knew this might happen…I want the best for you. I’m so far away now…,” in that moment Betty is stung with the realization that part of the reason she moved three thousand miles from her loved ones was to escape the drama of her family, “…Look. I’m behind you. If you really need me, I can find a way to come home…,” as she says it, Betty realizes this is an empty promise. It will take a wedding or a funeral to bring her back to Massachusetts. And probably, not even a wedding will do.
Of course, Brigette buys it. She believes everything her older sister tells her, “Thanks hon. I know I called way too early. I’ll let you get back to sleep. I’ll be in touch. Love ya’.”
Betty shoots back, “Love ya’.” They hang up, and Betty reels from the bad news. She can’t believe that, after a call like that, Brigette thinks there’s any sleep left for Betty. Dawn is coming soon, and Betty’s mind jangles with horrid possibilities that shock her fully awake. Not the least of which is Brigette’s funeral. She’d have to go home after all. All she can do is worry about irresponsible Brigette. Of course, Adam is already snoring. Bastard.
Bettyboop@scatter.com 8:08 a.m. pacific time 4/16
Hi Brid, just checking in. Wondering when you’re going to see the specialist? Wondering what you’re going to do about that filthy fucker who did this to you? I don’t know if you’ve even thought about that yet. It takes two to spread an infection. Anyway, get back soon. I’ve got a shoot in an hour, five hours in the studio could turn into ten for all I know, then traffic. But I’ll text. TTYL Love Betty.
Text from Brigette to Betty 11:10 a.m. eastern time 4/16
Doncha know I’m gonna find that fucker, and let him know what kind of a piece of shit he is. I got an appointment tomorrow at nine in the morning with Dr. Hockstetter. I got a class at eleven. Hope I don’t miss it. Figure drawing with live models. Not as excited about it as I used to be. ☹
Text from Betty to Brigette 10:23 a.m. pacific time 4/16
Just checking in. Hope you’re feeling better. On a ten minute break. TTYL.
Text from Brigette to Betty 1:25 p.m. eastern time 4/16
Feeling much better. Those drugs are great. Still going to find that little fucker, and give him a piece of my mind. Love ya’
Text from Brigette to Betty
7:33p.m.eastern time 4/16
HELP! I think I’m fucking losing it. Call me as soon as you can.
Betty calls Brigette on the phone 5:53 p.m. pacific time 4/16
8:53 p.m. eastern time 4/16
Brigette stares at the phone. She knows her sister is on the line. She doesn’t know what to say to her. She knows her sister is going to think she’s gone nuts. Betty’s going to think her baby sister is a fucking whacko. She’s going to have to handle this very carefully.
Brigette answers the phone, “Betty Boop?”
“Yeah, it’s me. I would’ve called sooner, what’s wrong?”
Brigette breathes deeply, “I tried to find Drew. I texted him like a bazillion times, and went to his apartment, and rang the bell for like a half an hour, nothing.”
Betty snarled, “Creep.”
Brigette doesn’t know how to say what she needs Betty to know. She blurts out, “I know I’m not crazy.”
Betty pauses, worries about what’s coming next but says nothing. Leaving Brigette out to dry. Brigette feels disappointment swell her heart. Her only sister should jump right on that, and agree she’s not crazy.
Brigette says calmly, “I floated off the floor today.”
Betty sighs heavily, “Have you been taking ecstasy again?”
Brigette’s tone gains force, and a touch of anger, “I haven’t had molly in six months. It’s the disease. The disease I got from that fucker Littleton.”
“Tell me how that makes sense Brigette. Make me understand this.”
Brigette takes in a deep breath, “It’s like vampires. He infected me, and now I can fly. I was alone in my room, just getting my shit together for the laundry. My mind was blank, and I just floated off the floor. Before I knew it, my head was bumping on the ceiling.”
Betty really doesn’t believe any of this but doesn’t know what to say. Does she humor her sister? Does she confront her lapse in sanity? For the moment, she simply says, “That’s too weird Bridge. Are you sure you didn’t dream it?”
Brigette snarls, “I shouldn’t have told you. I should have known you’d think I was crazy. I’ll deal with this on my own.”
Brigette hangs up the phone on her sister, and Betty sits in her living room wondering just what to do about Brigette, and cherishing her little secret. She had taken a pregnancy test because it was the last one in the box, and it was positive.
Drew Littleton calls Brigette on the phone 10:12 p.m. eastern time
Brigette sees Drew’s number on her cellphone, and the energy of excitement, fury, and longing rushes through her body. She lets it ring. She punches the wall, and to her amazement her fist goes right through the plaster, and leaves a huge hole in the wall.
On the eight ring she answers the phone, “Hello assface.”
Drew sighs into the phone, “Have you told anyone?”
“That’s all you have to say for yourself?”
“Seriously Brigette, have you told anyone?”
“I think you know what I mean.”
“If you’re talking about the STD you gave me. The painful, burning sensation you inflicted on my when I had to piss. Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“Not that. The other part.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you fucking dirtball.”
“I chose you Brigette.”
Brigette snorts into the phone, “Is that supposed to be flattering? You chose to infect me with a virulent venereal disease.”
Drew sighs, “This disease is incredibly rare. It only passes once in a hundred times. Are you flying yet?”
Brigette stammers, “Wh-what do you mean?”
“You are. There’s more to it than that. A lot more. Look. I like you. I want to be with you but the disease doesn’t affect men the way it affects women. I don’t have any of the talents you’re just beginning to experience. I just want to be sure you won’t hurt me. Just imagine all the good you can do in the world. You can fly. You’re pretty much immortal, now. You have physical strength that can’t be measured. I’m just a carrier, but I can help you learn how to control your powers. How to be…for want of a better expression…a superhero.”
Brigette is intrigued, and fascinated, and she has lost all the animosity she felt toward Drew. She wants to see him again as soon as she can get to him.
Drew leaves a pause in the conversation to let her think. God, she really does like him. She responds, “I told my sister, but…I don’t think she believed me. I can shut her down, tell her I was on ecstasy or something.”
Drew says, “I’ll leaved a key for you, on the second-floor window sill. Come tonight. If you change your mind, I’ll understand.”
Brigette999@scatter.com 12: 23 eastern time
Hey Betty Boop. I don’t know what was going on with me before. Smoked some bad weed I guess. Feeling better now. Sorry for the drama. I talked to Drew Littleton…he didn’t know he had anything. It was asymptomatic in his case, and he was sorry as a puppy dog. I’m gonna give him a chance to make it up to me. All is well. TTYL H&K Bridge.