Crossing the hatch line

My sister and I used to insist there was a line down the center of the backseat of our parent's car. There was my side. There was her side. We called it "hatching" the car. It allowed us to disagree without either of us being wrong. As long as she stayed on her side of the "hatch" I was cool with whatever. But crossing the "hatch line" meant full on battle.

I admit, there were times I let my shoulder slip just past the imaginary line, hoping she would blow up and get yelled at. I am certain she did the same. We both craved being able to be the smug one. It never lasted. We simply could not allow the other to get away with hatch violations because it was never really about the line.

Our parents wanted us to get along. We were sisters. We should have been nicer to each other. We should have shared. We fought our battle over butt space, but we the real conflict was over emotional territory. We were both certain the other was loved more, and fighting over that could not be mentioned. To be honest meant losing the illusion of control.

I would set her up, then rat her out. She would slap her own face then claim I hit her. We would say anything to make ourselves look good or the other look bad. I was older, thus expected to know better. I was older, thus assumed to be the one who started it. She was younger, so her emotional response, tears, were ok. I was told to stop crying because it was believed I was crying on purpose. Which of course caused me to believe she was crying on purpose and thus being falsely accused of something I was certain she was doing. Being falsely accused made me furious. Being furious led me to set her up again.

Of course this is me looking back. I had no idea at the time why I felt as I did, or why I did what I did. I was doing what I felt I needed to to hold my emotional place in our family. The lying, the manipulation - they never worked. I've learned through my life that honesty makes me happy. I also learned that nothing hurts me more than being accused of manipulation. I don't lie. I cry because I am sad. I say what I say because it's how I feel. I have no hidden agendas. They make no sense to me.

Ah History. You've become my little sister haven't you? Slapping your face and showing others the mark left. You've drawn a hatch line between us. And just like my sister and I, it's not about butt space.

I could fill this story with my feelings, but only one matters.
I don't trust you.