Bx Drops
Chapter III
As soon as the liquid touched Hannah’s tongue a small shudder travelled down her throat, all the way to her toes. Ugh. Why’d it have to taste so bitter? It tasted like medicine, gross. What on earth was she doing, anyway? Taking this stuff. Who knew what sort of chemicals or whatever was in this? She was crazy to try this. What had come over her?
Ew. She was gonna gag.
She should spit it all out, not take any more, tell Jake thanks but no thanks. For this miracle she would have to decline and—wait. Why was she lifting her face, tilting the mug up? She didn’t want more, she wanted less, she wanted to spit out what she had already taken… But she felt herself involuntarily pouring down the fizzing liquid down her throat, she couldn’t stop these involuntary swallow, it was like she was chugging it. It made her throat feel all feathery. God, why was it so bitter?
All gone. Inside her body. Whelp. Too late now. Change. She grimaced and stood there, looking around, feeling nervous. What would… what would the reality change feel like? Jake was on the sofa, watching her with his kind eyes. He gave her a thumbs up and a smile, which made her feel slightly better.
Nothing happened. She started to feel a bit sheepish. Had it not worked?
“I’m not sure it…”
Wait. She felt a cloud start to come over her emotions. Almost like a kind of dread. This was wrong. She knew that all of a sudden, something was off. She opened her mouth to say something to Jake, but then she felt the bitterness seeping back up to her mouth, like bile. Only now it felt like it was spreading through her, infusing her, like a light chill. A part of it crept slowly up to her brain, where she could feel it in there, all around her skull.
This wasn’t… what was… Her legs buckled.
“I feel… feel weird,” she said, wobbling. Jake grabbed her arm and guided her down to the sofa. Thanks Jake. What would Emily think when she came home, seeing her sister woozy on the couch with Jake? Emily popped up to her mind, an image of her, hah, pretty Emily. Hello. Hannah smiled.
Her sister. Her best friend, really. Haha, remember how excited Emily had been at the end of summer? That was right before Hannah had driven her to campus to drop her off, the last time Hannah had seen her in person. Emily had been padding around the driveway in her bare feet, her eyes shining—bright eyes that sparkled, whenever she made a joke or received praise from her teachers, got her report cards. Shone with happiness for weeks after she was selected valedictorian of their small high school. Her parents were so proud of her that she wasn’t going to a state university like Hannah, but to Swarthmore. Hannah hadn’t even tried beyond state. A single application, hah, Hannah, how foolish was she? Good thing it worked out, and she loved her school, her program. Of course, all the relatives had all called in to congratulate Emily. Even their dad had called from California.
And barefoot Emily had been absolutely filled to the brim with energy as they packed up the minivan for college, Emily was overflowing with energy, for college, for life, success, adventure. She looked so excited that Hannah felt like laughing at her. “What?” Emily had asked, smiling bewildered at Hannah’s expression of happiness and amusement, but Hannah just shook her head—gave Emily tight hug—and then more suitcases into the van. You really need this quilt, Em?
Erotic.
Good old Emily. Pretty Emily. She certainly was attractive, wasn’t she? Other people certainly thought so. Hannah could see her so clearly in her mind, almost perfectly—no, not almost perfectly, she could see her perfectly—Em was shorter than Hannah, Hannah sometimes felt a bit lanky, and Emily moreover had that megawatt smile that would flash on whenever she caught you looking at her. Her smile always shone like a lamp beneath her eyes and cute nose. That nose. Hannah was almost
Jealous.
Hannah had always cherished that Emily was so… well, well-formed. It was like a kind of gift from God, almost. Emily had this slender hourglass figure, hah, Hannah was practically boxy by comparison. Hannah remembered when they dressed up as twins in high school, and she had been amazed at how much better the same outfit had sat on Emily, the swell of her hips, the line out to the shoulders, the pull of the sash in the waist—she always looked glamorous, like the protagonist of a TV show. Hannah smiled a bit sadly, ah well. Great for Emily, really. And looks were a trap, they really were. Personality, fashion, skills—those were the things you took with you, that you earned.
Hannah considered Emily’s figure again. Now that she was thinking about it, Emily wasn’t exactly an hourglass figure. Wasn’t she a bit wide at the shoulders? An imperfection, maybe, but joyful to think about as a catalogue of what made her look like her. Wow, thinking about this felt really good all of a sudden. Emily really was an easy joy to look at. You just read her as attractive. Almost not just attractive, but almost
Erotic.
Wasn’t that what she had thought when she had gotten into the car to drive Emily to school? E-er… erotic?
Um. No.
Definitely had not thought that. That was weird. She had definitely not thought Em was attractive, no in that way, nor should she be thinking that now. What was going on? I mean, it was pretty obvious why boys kept slyly texting her, inviting her to get ice cream, go to parties. The way ass stuck out gently in her athletic shorts. Who wouldn’t want Emily in that way?
She glanced at Jake. He had his eyes on her, concerned. Thank God she had someone she could trust nearby while she waited for the changes to happen. Jake could probably… No, no stop thinking about HIM. Go back to Emily, her brain seemed to jump in. After all Emily IS pretty attractive—isn’t she? Hannah shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. Well sure she was, now that her brain mentioned it. Emily was pretty. In fact, Hannah had an… an…
An erotic desire for Emily.
What? No. Hah, no. Where had that thought come from? Ha ha. Not once. Just having that thought surface made her feel kind of queasy. Nauseated, actually. They were sisters. They had fun together. Hannah remembered the fun they had in their fake band in middle school, just the two of them, Hannah putting down her flute for vocals and their step-dad’s electric guitar, Emily surprisingly good on the drums. And they’d jam and pretend to be rock stars. It was amazing how much easy talent Emily had at things like drums. Emily was an attentive student to Hannah’s music sense, Emily’s talent hadn’t made Hannah feel anything like
Jealousy.
Actually, now that Hannah was thinking about it, hadn’t Emily had been amazing at drums? How could she have forgotten? Like, after just a few hours, Emily sounded like she had been playing the drums all her life. Hah, so unfair! But awesome. Hannah’s music teacher had really been impressed when she played a recording for him. Mr. Jonson’s dry sense of humor and calmness, his one eyebrow going up in surprise. It was really a shame Emily stopped drumming once she “discovered” school. Hannah at her age at started thinking more about boys than she wish she had, while Emily instead started becoming fascinated instead her own carefully kept notes in neat binders, her carefully organized multi-colored pens and highlighters…
Wait. No, she had misremembered or something. Hannah’s music teacher, Mr. Jonson, had been amazed about Emily. He was usually so reserved, just a dry comment once in a while to make Hannah burst out laughing. But he had gone on about Emily for, like, a month. “Such talent,” he said, turning it over in his head. “You sure she’s not planning to drop out of school and become a professional busker?” How could Hannah forget that? He had never talked about her that way. The way it sat in her gut, her
Jealousy.
It wasn’t fair, that Hannah tried so hard at flute, and someone like Emily could just, barge in to her thing with such outrageous talent. Not like it wasn’t still fun to play together—last summer, they had even broken out the cheap drum set from the basement for old time’s sake. Emily had looked good on the drums. Confident, as usually. She looked… well, cool. Emily didn’t usually look “cool,” she conspicuously had no edge to her, always a bit too smiley and pastel-colored. Hold on Han!” she had said, putting on an outrageous stripped jacket that made her seem like an indie rocker (where had she found that think? It looked great on her!) And when she drummed, when she set her lips in concentration, her hair bouncing to the beat, arms loose, energetic, her torso so completely centered, her breasts... It was pretty mesmerizing, now that she was thinking about it. Hah, she should have recorded a video, not just audio, there was something fascinating about Emily on the drums, something
Erotic.
Well, she had recorded the session hadn’t she? Video. Why did she forget? Something was wrong. Why was the Bx Drop taking so long? She rubbed her ass curiously, frowning. Was it… not working? … Ugh. She clutched her head. Video. Yeah, she had taken a video of the whole jam, leaned her phone against some books on top of an upright piano in the living room. It started with Hannah stepping away from the camera, unslinging her guitar, it looked huge on her. They both had on their cool faces, classic rockers, they nodded at each other and… butchered the first bar of their cover, and they both doubled over with laughter, Emily flopped over the guitar, “Oh my GOD!” she said, tears down her face. And Emily hadn’t been wearing a bra, had she? She had been experimenting that way a bit recently when she graduated high school, more risqué than their fairly conservative family usually went.
Hannah should rewatch it. It’d been months since she looked at Emily’s breasts and…
Hannah blushed. God, why was she thinking that? She meant since she listened to their music.
An erotic desire for Emily.
No. No, this wasn’t right. This was supposed to be something else. She shifted and tried to feel her rear. Wasn’t she supposed to be becoming more beautiful? More shapely, happier? She tried to think, but her mind was feeling a little foggy. It was like she was in a… a little cocoon. Who was she turning into?
“Jake…” she said, and shivered.
“What?” he said. He took her hand comfortingly. “You doing okay? How’s the ass change coming?”
That video of Emily, from months ago, the recording. She had watched it yesterday, hadn’t she? Um. No. She hadn’t. Like, totally hadn’t. Yesterday, she had taken a bike ride to the train tracks and had video chat with Ashley and…
Although. If that was the case, why could she remember the video so clearly? Hadn’t had turned the sound off? God, she had even edited it on some free video editing software, looking around as she did so, feeling ashamed and guilty. There was a section when the Emily’s jacket was least in the way, her chest was most visible, and she focused the video closer, closer on Emily’s boobs. Hannah remembered leaning in, zooming in. They were really pretty faultless. Perfect on Emily’s frame, maybe just a tad heavy for her, looked oversized in bras if she wasn’t careful… Hannah went frame by frame by frame through the best section. The way they curved under that lilac tank. Emily’s boobs pushed sideways a bit, Hannah had never really noticed before. What an arousing thing to notice, this was great, felt wonderful to focus on, so wonderful like she could do it all her life, and while Hannah watched the recording, she had instinctively put a hand lightly on her own breast, lightly circling her thumb over it. For the first time, she had a flash of curiosity as to what Emily looked like naked…
Then Hannah had slammed her laptop shut, bright red.
Oh! Why had she done that? What was she thinking? Or… Or… had that really happened? Hannah tried to remember. She had a sinking feeling. She felt something rearrange in her head, a kind of feathery feeling. She couldn’t really have looked at the video yesterday. Honestly! She hadn’t looked for months! It was just a practice video, a force of habit from years of flute recitals. Why would she have unless she had
An erotic desire for Emily.
Sinking horror. Yes, it had happened, she realized. She had looked, she really had. And not only had she rewatched it yesterday, but as she examined Emily’s t-tits, Hannah had set a section on a loop, bounce bounce, slow motion, that part where you could see her nips brush against the shirt, and Hannah had felt this building wave of arousal. She hadn’t closed the laptop after all. No, she remembered she had leaned back, feeling this sensational warmth. Hadn’t Hannah’s hand… r-reached down to r-rub herself over her jeans while the video looped? Oh. Oh. She had imagined her hand slinking around Emily’s back while she was on the drums, under her jacket, her tight torso, braless. She had imagined Emily looking back, mouth open slightly in arousal, a kind of haze over her eyes… Hannah felt nauseous remembering the fantasy. No no no. No. She hadn’t imagined that. No.
But there was also a glow. And there was a glow right now, on the couch, Jake next to her. Remember helping Emily load the car? The hug she had given Emily, Emily’s breasts had pushed underneath hers, smushed against her torso, her small body against her, lovely-headed Emily, Hannah’s head on her shoulder, blonde hair mingling falling… God, it’s hot, hot thinking about. Imagine how what she’d look like, spread out on the back seat of the car! And…
W-what? God. No. No! This was horrible, horrible, she hated imagining these things. Or… or… (she shuddered) not imagining, but remembering them. She felt something slide into place somewhere. Oh god. This had really happened, hadn’t it? Like, literally. Not an illusion, not a fake memory. Like, it had happened. Her, Hannah! The video, unbuttoning her jeans… her sister… She felt revulsion at herself.
But also a little trickle of honey, running through her. Seeping quietly to her panties.
“Jake,” she whispered urgently. “I don’t think this is… I think it’s changing the wrong thing.”
“What?!” he said, alarmed. “Why, what’s happening?”
She clutched his arm.
“My memories of Emily… they’re changing,” she said. God, she didn’t want this. She had to push back. Not become this. But already she could feel a little engine inside herself, ravenously stoked with Emily. Some growing internal core. Desire. She felt a deep shame settle into herself. And also a small little glow that wanted her to just… throw everything away. Lean into it. No. Never.
“What do you mean?” Jake said, looking wild with fear. “Oh god, if I made a mistake, I…”
“I’m not gonna let this happen,” she whispered. “I’m not gonna… Not gonna feel
Jealous of Emily.
What? No. She wasn’t jealous of Emily at, like, all. Of what? Hannah didn’t want to spend her time taking notes, writing essays! Who cared if Emily did? Hannah was going to be a soloist, a music teacher, all her dreams her lovely goals.
She looked inside herself. Was she jealous?
No. Relief.
Nothing to be jealous about here.
Always jealous of Emily.
NO! Not always jealous! Just for, well, like normal things to be jealous of. Like at Thanksgiving, the unceasing praise of Emily, the pretty sister, the smart sister too. “Oohh the boys will be after UUUu!!” Grandma had said arriving one Thanksgiving, her gift bag put on the ground, arms wide for Emily, Hannah in the back by the piano, suddenly overshadowed. Which was… relief? Duh, Grandma was very sweet, but always a little bit too intense in the make-grandkids-sort-of-way. “Nineteen, Hannah, getting a little old aren’t you?” how could an old lady who baked pies be so toxic? Emily was like the bait, an angelic, a perfect toxic relative lure in the shape of a perfect young woman. And a source of pride, that she was so perfect. Yeah. Yeah.
Hannah shifted carefully. She was definitely not feeling
Jealousy.
No. Like, who cared that Emily went to a “good” school? That was certainly never something Hannah had ever cared about. She had even felt a kind of sickly satisfaction when Emily got turned down from UPenn. Emily cried when the email came, they sat out back on the swing, Emily was saying I’m so so sorry I’m crying I feel so STUPID to be crying it’s just a university and Hannah was patting her on the back. There there. Secret joy.
Hannah had applied to UPenn. … Hadn’t she? She frowned. She felt the outlines of her application, a kind of on the whim application, goaded into it by Emily and their high school’s terrible counselor, Hannah on the low end of all the scores. When the rejection email arrived, like of course it did, Hannah hadn’t told anyone… No, no, that wasn’t right. Go away, fake memory. She had only applied to a single college. And got in. Why was it Emily, helping her revise her essays? Why couldn’t Hannah be on the debate team? Hannah clutched her head. She didn’t want to change. Didn’t want to be
Jealous of Emily.
Remember when Emily got the acceptance email into Swarthmore? Emily had bounded into her room. Hannah Hannah! she cried, leaping onto her bed with her, on all fours, like an amorous cat (Mmph! Hannah thought, squeezing her thighs tightly at the memory, god,) I got in! I got in! And how had Hannah felt then, right at that moment? Jealous, or no?
She tried to think. This felt like an important memory.
Had she smiled with excitement? Was that what happened? Omigosh, Em! That’s FANTASTIC! and had they gone out to get frozen yoghurt to celebrate? Was that right? Hannah frowned. That just seemed… implausible. That she would have been that cheerful. Hannah had always been a bit more sour than that. She always had been, hadn’t she? Or… or…. no. No, she wasn’t like that at all.
Because the alternative was that when Emily had told her, Hannah’s stomach had turned to ice. She had felt tears almost come to her eyes, she had to hide it, hide it so carefully. Beautiful Emily, on to great things. Leaving her behind.
Which memory felt right? She was confused. She felt almost as if she could choose. Which one was more true to herself? Was it kind of a blind passivity, acceptance, being sappy happy all the time on someone else’s behalf? Ugh. No. No, it had to be… had to be the jealousy, right? Had to be, what else felt right? It slotted into the last ten years of her life, a kind of horrible gnawing jealousy, the sense that something was off in Hannah’s life, but represented in Em’s. She didn’t want the jealousy, she would give it away if she could, she was just…
Always jealous.
Hannah remembered helping pack up the minivan to go to Swarthmore, months later. Emily filled to the brim with energy, barefoot in the driveway, positively bounding around with energy, for college, her awesome life ahead of her of success and adventure and endless boys and globetrotting and rewards. So generally overly excited that Hannah felt like scolding her. “What?” Emily had asked. Her smile dimming slightly at Hannah’s expression, not quite getting it, but Hannah just shook her head and gave her a hug—a bit too tight to be entirely friendly. (The compression of their chests together… She squeezed her thighs together again angrily at the thought.) Then more suitcases into the van. You really need this fucking quilt, Em?
Wait. Was that… right? Or had that memory been a little different? She struggled to work through her memories… It seemed right? But it was… wrong. She knew that. One some level. But the wrongness just felt… abstract.
“What’s going on,” Jake asked, worried. “What’s going on? You can tell me.”
“Jake,” Hannah said. She felt her eyes brim with tears. “You need to help me. I’m not liking this. At all.”
“Your… your arm,” he said, touching her shoulder. “Is this… new?” Hannah turned to look. There was a blue diamond tattoo there. She felt panic.
“Oh no oh no oh no,” she said stupidly. She hated tattoos. She loved her skin. Her arms. She rubbed it fiercely, but nothing happened. Stuck to her. She didn’t want two diamonds on her! Or, one. She meant one. She looked. Three. Oh no.
“Can you stop this?” she asked Jake. “Please.”
“I’ll look for something!” he said, frantically pulling out the bag of Bx Drops, and going through them. His hand was shaking, he kept dropping them. She didn’t want to have
A cool sleeve.
She had always hated tattoos, they were disgusting, permanent. It was almost… almost sacrilegious to what you were born with. And they looked awful. Pretentious things, messed up your balance. She tried not to slut-shame, but when her girlfriends came back with tattoos, she felt this condescending sense of disapproval. Which was why it was so surprising when she had gone to the mall last week, a small shoulder tattoo, and… No. No. She hadn’t. She looked at her arm. There was some leafy pattern there, it looked like a manuscript letter, some poison ivy leaves. She stared at it. Go away. Not you. Never. Never to all of this. She looked again. The tattoo letter was gone. She felt a burst of relief. She could fight all this. Go back to how she was.
She had to hold on to that, how happy she had been in that other reality, not filled with bitter emotions, her heart not racing when she remembered to apply sunscreen to Emily’s shapely back at the lake… And she hated thinking of herself with a tattoo. You couldn’t have tattoos as a professional flautist! Oooh, she was so stupid to have gotten one, on a whim too, the entire upper arm, she had asked for, god, she…
No, she hadn’t gotten one. She checked her arm. The letter had returned, as had a kind of scaly diamond pattern, it was expanding up her shoulder and down her arm. No no no.
Suddenly the door slammed. Jake and Hannah looked up.
“Hello!!!” Emily called from the foyer. Oh my god, her voice, Hannah thought. Girlishly intelligent, if you didn’t know her, you might think it inappropriately vacuous. Higher pitched from happiness. Hannah had to stop herself from grinding into the pillow. Oh god.
There was the sound of a heavy suitcase being dropped. “Uh, Hannah? Mom? Bryan?” The door slammed again, maybe she was getting another suitcase.
“I have to go the bathroom,” Hannah whispered to Jake, not knowing what else to say. She had to focus. Get her thoughts together. Push this all away. Not let this be permanent. Not let this be her, who she was. How ashamed she’d be to let Em see her. She ran up the stairs to the bathroom.
The door slammed again, and Emily walked into the living room.
“Hannah, guess what, I brought you a… Jake?” Emily said, confused.
“Hey Emily!” he said brightly. “Hannah was just telling me that you just knocked down your first semester!”
“Yeah,” she said cautiously. “What are you doing here? Where’s Han?”
“Would you believe,” he lied, “that I have a great aunt in town? She arrived way back with the mill! I was just telling Hannah about it. We’re talking about carpooling next semester!”
Boy, Emily looked prettier than ever, Jake thought. Haha, Hannah had really been messed up by the Drops. What fun to watch her. It all seemed to have been working pretty well, though he was surprised at how much longer it seemed to be taking on her than it did with him. Maybe it was like biking over grass, if the person wasn’t totally willing. But seeing polite Emily with a tattoo, total turn on. What a contrast to who she was! Like someone had suddenly appeared with a pixie cut. And haha, not like she could hide her arousal, biting her lip, almost grinding against the sofa like a mop, Jesus. He felt gleeful, with now with Emily here.
“Where’s Hannah?” Emily asked again.
“In the bathroom, I think. She’s super excited to be seeing you! She said you’re going to be a Supreme Court Justice one day.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, not entirely mollified. Not like he seemed like he was lying, or anything. Something was just fishy.
The front door slammed again.
“Oh, who’s that?” Jake asked.
“Uh, it’s my ride,” she said. “My boyfriend.”
A Chinese kid came around the door, another suitcase in his hand. He had glasses and a short haircut, a pleasant face, generic clothes. He set the suitcase down.
“Hi. I’m Xiaowei,” he said, offering his hand.
“You’ll be spending the night, won’t you?” Emily asked, putting his arms around him. She had told him her mom would be weirded out if he stayed, so they had planned on him leaving pretty quick. But suddenly, she felt better with a change of plans.
“Of course,” he said, looking a bit puzzled.
Meanwhile, Hannah had her palms on the bathroom sink, examining herself in the mirror, changing, looking like a different person with a tattoo sleeve that reached past her elbow by now, she had taken off her shirt, it had some of her shoulder as well, and she pushed her hair back. It… did look kind of cool, there was a wing, flowers and an elegant snake, a kind of scale pattern. And Emily.
Already, Hannah felt a kind of stunned fear that this desire would just burn unfulfilled, forever. What if… D’you think Jake would let her borrow some Bx Drops?
Nothing mean, or horrible. She really did love Emily, her favorite person in the whole world. But some small improvements… Hannah felt a shudder of pleasure run through her. Some modifications. Modifications to reality, how she is, how she always has been.
* * *