I just got off the phone with Hannah … and I’m exhausted. I haven’t been this ‘done in’ since our last conversation — if you can call a monologue a conversation. Because that’s what my conversations with my sister always are. I talk and, I imagine, she listens. It’s not that I want — or need — to talk, but Hannah doesn’t — want or need; I haven’t been able to discern which, perhaps both. I tell her about all the things that are going on in my life, but there’s rarely a remark, not to mention a reply or a question on Hannah’s part.
Silence. I get a lot of silences.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy talking, but I do need to have a break now and then. I’ve often wondered if Hannah has anything going on in her life to tell me, thus the reason for her silences? It’s caused me to think: How can I get my sister to participate in our conversations?
Emma, the 17-year-old helper in our stables, overheard me complain about Hannah to my wife.
“Encourage Hannah to join Instagram,” Emma advised me.
“Instagram? Why Instagram?” I asked, as I didn’t know a thing about the app.
“People go on Instagram to tell the world all about themselves,” Emma explained.
“And … people care?” I wondered.
“That’s not the point,” Emma said.
“If that’s not the reason, then why do they go on Instagram?”
“People love to talk about themselves, don’t you get it? On Instagram, that’s all anyone does; they tell you everything about themselves,” Emma informed me. “On Instagram, people can make up stories — about their lives, who they hang out with, even about their sex life.”
Emma was giving me a real-life education.
“But, Emma, I don’t believe my sister has much, if anything, to tell people.”
“Oh, that doesn’t matter. Being on Instagram is like make-believe. People create the life
they wished they had — but don’t. It gives them a weird kind of satisfaction and even happiness, thinking they really are living this life they’ve made up. They tell you things that never happened, even about people who don’t exist. Everyone does it. People think that it makes them more interesting than they really are … or so they believe.”
“Emma, to tell people one hardly knows things about themselves that could possibly be — in many cases are — exaggerations or outright fantasies — had never occurred to me.”
“Aaron, you’re a writer. Think of Instagram posts as creative nonfiction. Why don’t you ask your sister to come over; I’ll talk to her about what I’ve just told you. If your sister agrees, I think you should be there when we talk. You could use a little help too.”
“This should be fun,” Emma said during the first meeting with Hannah.
“It will give you an outlet to say whatever is in — and on — your mind. Do you have a boyfriend?” she asked Hannah.
“Sorta,” Hannah said.
I looked at Hannah. She never mentioned a boyfriend to me.
“Do you like him?”
Hannah hesitated, as if by admitting that she did, would be letting out her secret thoughts
— to a stranger, not to mention to me.
“I take it that by hesitating, you do,” Emma said, answering her own question for Hannah. “Have you had sex with him?”
Hannah blushed, a deep crimson, but I saw her lips curl into a smile.
“I’m assuming by the expression on your face, that you have,” Emma said. “Good; a good start. Now, is the sex satisfying … and by this, I mean do your orgasms make you scream and thump his chest with your fists?”
As Emma said scream and hit his chest with her fists, Hannah began to cough, almost choke. I quickly got her a glass of water; I needed one too.
“Great. I’m beginning to see a lot of material for Instagram. Is the relationship exclusive? By this I mean, neither of you has sex with anyone else.”
There was a painfully long pause before Hannah answered.
“For me, he’s the only one ….”
“Can I assume that that is not the case for him?” Emma asked.
Hannah looked away, then down at her hands. She changed positions in her chair, obviously uncomfortable. I was becoming uncomfortable as well.
“Hannah, I’m asking this because it’s not uncommon for one party in a relationship to be
fooling around, either with or without the knowledge of the other party. If your boyfriend is
having sex with another girl, do you want him to stop … and only have sex with you?”
“Yes,” Hannah answered without hesitation.
“And, you’re concerned that if you tell him this, he might dump you for the other girl?”
“Yes,” Hannah said in a whisper.
“Okay. You’re going to make him jealous.”
“How?” Hannah asked, looking up, her face suddenly resembling a 16-year-old.
“I’m assuming your boyfriend uses Instagram, since everyone — except your brother here ….”
“I don’t,” Hannah told her.
“You will … with my help,” Emma said. “Now, we’re going to set you up with an Instagram account. Then, you’ll post that you met this simply divine hunk ….”
“But, I haven’t,” Hannah said.
“You will … in your posting on Instagram. As I told your brother, you needn’t be truthful on Instagram. Hardly anyone is, and, more to the point, no one expects that the posts they read are, in fact, the truth,” Emma informed my sister.
“You mean, the hunk you were referring to doesn’t have to exist?” Hannah asked in total disbelief.
“Exactly,” Emma told her, “… except in your imagination. His name — what should we call him?”
“Mike?” Hannah suggested.
“Too blah. We need a name that suggests … virile masculinity. Chad … or Rod ….”
“What about Pearson?” Hannah suggested. “I once knew a boy with that name, in school.”
“You gotta be kidding,” Emma giggled. “To me, Pearson suggest a school principal, not a virile hunk. Now, let’s get down to bare tacks. I’ll click on the app … there it is. I’ll let you fill in the information it needs while I clean the stalls, otherwise your brother here might fire me,” Emma laughed.
An hour later, Emma returned.
“Let’s see,” and Emma reviewed Hannah application for the Instagram app. “Good. Have
you given any thought to your new potential lover?” she asked Hannah.
“I like the name you suggested, Rod,” Hannah told her.
“Before you meet him, we have to make sure your current lover — what’s his name?”
“Melvin,” Hannah told her.
“Okay. Tell Melvin that you now have an Instagram account ….”
“Why?” Hannah asked.
“So that he reads what you’re going to post, otherwise how will he know that Rod has entered your life. Speak to Melvin tonight and casually mention that you’re on Instagram. You and I will meet tomorrow and start posting, okay?” and Emma returned to cleaning the stalls.
“So, what do you think?” I asked Hannah after Emma left.
“I don’t know, Aaron. It sounds so … creepy.”
“It’s exciting, Hannah. A new adventure for you.”
The following morning, after Emma had finished her stall chores, the three of us met.
“Did you tell Melvin?” Emma asked Hannah.
“Yeah. He was surprised.”
“Well, he’s in for more surprises. Today, you’ll post that you were shopping in the supermarket and dropped a container of … what do you normally buy that comes in a breakable container?” Emma asked.
“Orange juice. The brand I buy comes in a glass bottle,” Hannah told her.
“You dropped your bottle of orange juice — very embarrassing — and this fellow came over and helped you clean it up before the store personnel said they would take care of it. The fellow and you started chatting; he told you his name was Rod. You continued shopping together and he suggested the two of you have coffee at the Starbucks next door. How’s that for a starter? Melvin’s ears should perk up. When you speak with him tonight, I bet he’s going to make some remark … and I doubt it’ll be complementary.”
When the three of us met two mornings later, Hannah looked different: she had on makeup.
“You look smart,” I told her.
“I asked my best friend Betsy if I could borrow her stuff. Like it?” Hannah asked.
“It suits you, sis. Why not buy your own … if you think you’ll be using it regularly, that is,” I suggested.
“Hi guys.,” Emma greeted us pushing a wheelbarrow filled with manure and shavings.
“Wow, Hannah, you look … terrific. I bet it won’t take Rod long before …. Well, let’s not put the horse before the cart, as your brother here told me when I first started working for him. Did you speak with Melvin last night?”
“Yes ….”
“And?”
“I got the impression that he didn’t like that I had coffee with … Rod,” Hannah told us.
“Good. Now, you’re going to have lunch with Rod. I assume you exchanged numbers?”
When Hannah nodded, Emma continued. “Nothing too intimate, but sufficiently quiet and cozy to be intriguing. He asked you to meet him at The Chelsea Grill; how’s that?”
“I like the place. It reminds me of a New York Soho restaurant. I haven’t been there with Melvin as he only eats steak and potatoes which The Chelsea Grill rarely offers.”
“So, it’s doubtful that he’ll see you there. Now, what’ll you wear, and what will Rod wear?”
“Well, I have this skirt and matching blouse that Melvin thinks is pretty ….”
“No; absolutely not,” Emma said emphatically. “What you wear when you meet Rod must be something Melvin has never seen on you … and it must be revealing.” When Emma said this, I saw Hannah blush once more. “Cleavage — wear something with a modest cleavage, and slacks. I personally don’t like them, but guys go crazy over women in slacks ….”
“But ….”
“As for Rod …. Let’s say he’s just over six-foot, wears his dirty blond hair somewhat on the long side, looks like he has a 6:00 shadow — that’s sexy — and his jeans ride low on his hips. How does that sound?”
Hannah left smiling. I couldn’t wait to hear about Melvin’s reaction.
When we met the following day, I almost didn’t recognize my sister. She had a new hairstyle — one with highlights — and was wearing a cashmere V-neck that was quite … well, revealing, and a pair of slacks that showed off a slim waist and … well-rounded … derrière, and heels! She looked like a new person.
“From the smirk on your face, Aaron, I take it you like what you see,” she smiled.
“Like? I love it; you look smashing.”
“He’s … hot,” she told me in an undertone. “I never thought I would say that about any guy, but Rod is … hot.”
I was beginning to enjoy my sister’s imagination. I couldn’t wait for her next post.
“Hannah, is that you?” Emma asked when she joined us. “Well, tell us what Melvin thought of you having lunch with your virile hunk.”
“He hung up on me. I thought he was going to suggest we have dinner together, but suddenly the connection went dead.”
When Hannah told us this, both Emma and I roared with laughter.
“You let your line out and caught the fish, Hannah. Now we have to reel him in,” Emma told her.
“Are you referring to Melvin or Rod?” Hannah asked.
I was not a little confused by her question. Melvin was her boyfriend, — or that’s what I thought he was, whereas Rod was make-believe. Was my sister staring to hallucinate?
“You told us that Rod works out at the gym several times a week ….”
“Melvin abhors exercise; he never goes to a gym,” Hannah informed us.
“Good. In today’s post you’ll tell everyone that Rod asked you to workout with him … and that the two of you pumped iron — use those words,” Emma instructed Hannah.
Hannah arrived flushed but happy when the three of us met the day after.
“Rod really looks great in gym shorts and a tank top,” she announced before Emma or could say anything. I was beginning to believe that my sister was developing an imagination, that she was catching on to Emma’s teaching. “And, helpful. When I had difficulty lifting the 5- pound barbell, Rod stood in back of me and, leaning forward, lifted it with me.”
Emma and I looked at one another, question marks imprinted on our eyeballs.
“What did you … and Rod … do after the gym?” Emma asked as she hadn’t mentioned another post for post-gym activity.
“We went for a drink.”
“Where?” I asked. I was becoming fascinated by Hannah’s creative powers.
“Rod suggested the Ball & Chains ….”
“Wow,” Emma let out. “That’s the hottest place in town.”
Surprised, I stared at my employee. Emma looked older than her seventeen years; she must use a fake ID, I thought.
“Did Rod take you back to his place?” Emma asked.
“Emma!” Hannah looked shocked at the suggestion. “It was our first date. He dropped me off at my apartment … but we spoke later, before I went to bed.”
Now I was wondering what romantic novel my sister was reading.
“Okay, it’s time for Melvin to declare his faithfulness, and what I mean by that is he’s got to tell you that you’re the only one and break off with the other woman,” Emma told Hannah.
“I can’t tonight ….”
“Why?” Emma asked. “You’ve got to reel Melvin in while he’s on the hook.”
“Rod’s coming over tonight. I told him I’d cook dinner and he said he’d love to.”
I spent a restless night, thinking about Hannah and her Instagram boyfriend. While I never liked Melvin, at least he was a real person.
“Grilled salmon steaks,” Hannah told us the morning after her “date” with Rod.
“You grilled salmon steaks?” I said, incredulously. “Since when do you cook?”
“You know I don’t, so I called Rosie ….”
“Mom’s cook?” I asked.
“She walked me through it, even loaning me a Martha Stewart’s cookbook for the mustard sauce. Rod loved it; asked for seconds. I served it with Veuve Clicquot … that I borrowed from your wine cellar, Aaron.”
When Hannah left, as she told us she was meeting Rod for coffee at The Black Cap, I said to Emma,
“I’m beginning to believe my sister has entered a fantasy world.”
“She has, Aaron. That’s Instagram. She’s a fast learner, but isn’t it wonderful? I mean, look at her; a completely different person than the sister you introduced me to a few days ago.”
Emma went back to cleaning the horse stalls and I called my mother’s cook.
“Rosie, Hannah told me you gave her help to cook grilled salmon. I just wondered…”
“She called me while I was preparing your mother’s dinner and I told her exactly how to prepare the fish and how to grill it. I sent Albert over with all the ingredients, including two salmon steaks that I was going to cook tomorrow night. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. I was just checking because she’s never cooked in her life, that’s all.”
That night I had to take a sleeping pill. Had I created an even bigger problem than a non-conversant sister?
Over the week that followed, Emma gave Hannah new posts every day, but Hannah always seemed to be one step ahead of her. Melvin appeared to be panting after Hannah but my sister kept him somewhat at arm’s length, making one excuse after another as though she were avoiding him — at least, that’s what I thought. Then, Emma gave her the post that would be the coup de grace.
“Say that you’ve purchased the most divine negligee and that you can’t wait for Rod to
see you in it,” she instructed Hannah.
“I already have ….”
“What?” I asked, confused.
“I saw this fabulous ‘thing’ at Bergdorf’s — a deep rose-pink trimmed in Brussels lace
that didn’t leave much to anyone’s imagination — that I’ll put on tonight ….”
“Is Melvin sleeping over?” I asked.
“Melvin? Ever since we had coffee after he helped me clean up the broken orange juice
container in the supermarket, Rod’s been asking when he could stay over. I held out … until
tonight.”
Hannah left, to prepare. I pulled Emma aside as I needed to talk with her.
“Emma, to me, Hannah has mixed reality with her fantasies and now doesn’t know one from the other.”
“But that’s what Instagram is all about, Aaron. When we first talked about my helping
Hannah, I told you to think of Instagram as creative nonfiction.”
I couldn’t but dwell on what Hannah had told me — that she had invited Rod to spend the night — and what Emma said — that blending fantasy with reality is what makes Instagram so popular. I tossed and turned all night.
The next morning, I encountered one of Hannah’s neighbors who lives in the apartment
adjacent to my sister’s.
“Aaron, I just bumped into this 6-foot virile hunk with long dirty-blond hair wearing hip-hugging jeans and a tank top, leaving your sister’s apartment,” she winked. “Said his name was Rod.”
