Joyride III

Spring is the season when I feature the best student work from my essay class at Atlantic Cape Community College as we try to develop the next generation of “Joyriders.”  This week’s column is by Sarah Fertsch, an alumna of Atlantic Christian School.
My twin sister Holly and I are happily married.
We took each other to the prom. I buy her flowers on Valentine’s Day. We go to the diner every Thursday for spinach omelets and strawberry crepes. We call each other “Honey,” “Darling,” and “Girlfriend.”
Even as kids, we could never be separated.
In Kindergarten, our parents put us in different classes, in hopes we would live separate lives.
This only made our relationship stronger, because even though she wasn’t there, I was always talking about Holly. “Why do you always bring up your sister?” my classmates asked. “She isn’t even in this class.”
Our friends became more and more distant. Some told us our relationship was intimidating.
Our friends replaced us with boyfriends, but we never found a need for romantic love. After all, we were already married.
Holly has never really had an interest in boys. She has bigger dreams.     
She spends her days sleeping late, composing a novel of her own, and exploring the meaning of life. Plus, she tutors on the side.
I’m too invested in my education for a love life.
Holly is my cup of coffee. She comforts me in tragedy, and empowers me in success.
It’s not romantic. It’s someone to love.
When she cries, I wail. When she laughs, I erupt.
I cook. She cleans. I’m always early. She is chronically late. She is introverted. I’m outgoing.
She completes me in more ways than one.
A soulmate is someone’s ideal fit. It’s the perfect pair of jeans, in human form. Holly says a soulmate is when two stars come together to form a constellation.
Why can’t that person be my sister? Why does a soulmate have to be romantic?
Holly and I fantasize about getting an apartment together. We would grocery shop on Sundays, and decorate with hanging Christmas lights, soft pillows, and pastel walls.
Every Saturday for the past few months, we’ve hand-painted tiles at the art shop, saving them to line our future bathroom.
We will become the old couple everyone says we are.
“Why don’t you have boyfriends? Most girls have a love life by now,” our family and friends ask.
“If you two don’t start dating now, you’ll become old maids.”
Society tells us that women need a husband. Women are designed for romance and sexuality. If Holly and I aren’t sexual, as women, what can we contribute to this world?
We will contribute success, service, and sisterly love.
Holly has books to write, children to teach, and music to appreciate.  I have a career to chase, coffee to drink, and papers to edit. Husbands aren’t guaranteed, but the twin ship is.
Yet I still lie awake at night, petrified of my impending doom as an old maid.
But then Holly says, “We won’t become old maids, Sarah. We are already married.” 
Keith Forrest is an associate professor of communication at Atlantic Cape Community College.  His late mother Libby Demp Forrest Moore wrote the Joyride column for this newspaper for 20 years.