Chapter 4 Family dynamics

"Hello, Vivian," she heard herself say almost disdainfully, with a fake smile plastered on her face.

Vivian swerved her blonde head to the side to take a good look at her sister.

"Oh, Bibi," Vivian said in her typical doll voice, "Mother was just telling me about you," she smirked.

In that moment, Bibi had never been prouder of herself for learning to keep her business to herself for a long time now. If not, by now, she would have suffered a heart attack, knowing how closely knitted her mother and sister had always been. In other words, her mother would certainly never spare Vivian any updates on Bibi's life.

"She told me you came to keep her company during this trial time," Vivian went on, "That was unusually thoughtful of you, Bibi, and I must applaud such uncommon selflessness," she smiled in mischief.

Bibi looked at her sister; her tone was obviously sarcastic. She was being passively aggressive to her, as usual, and she, on the other hand, was in no mood for her sister's silly ways.

Bibi was about to excuse herself when her mother suddenly noticed the hand luggage and spoke up, "Don't tell me you're leaving so soon now, dear? I'm truly sorry if I had offended you in any way."

She sighed as her mother went on, "You had promised to spend the whole weekend with me, keeping me company, and now you're all packed and ready to leave?"

Bibi wasn't sure what exactly to say; she had tried to avoid this moment, and she couldn't think of what excuse to give now.

"I need to go home and prepare for work, Mum," she started, "I'm starting a new role at the company, remember? So, I need to go get prepared so I don't suffer a wardrobe malfunction during the week," she quickly made up.

"Oh, come on now, Bibi," Vivian suddenly cut in with a mischievous grin, "there would be no need for that. Besides, you can always wear some of my clothes. I'm sure they'll suit you perfectly," Vivian jested as she eyed Bibi.

Bibi glared at her sister; she knew what Vivian was doing, for pity's sake, they didn't wear the same size of clothes, and even a blind man could tell. While Vivian could wear exactly the same size with those models that walked the runway because of her slim and perfect figure, Bibi wouldn't dare. She wasn't all that big, but compared to Vivian, she was fairly bigger in size. It had always been that way; Vivian had always been the blonde, sexy one who was great at being a cheerleader in high school and who had no problems at all with her grades, not because she was smart, but because she somehow always found a way to get the nerdy boys who all seemed to have a crush on her to do her homework. While Bibi, who was a brunette just like her mother, was often kicked out of every team in school, except the dodgeball team where she was often targeted.

Even worse, although she got good grades too, Bibi often had to study twice as hard as Vivian to achieve them. In truth, she knew she was way smarter than Vivian, who dated nerds and A-grade losers secretly just to get them to do all her homework while she practiced her steps for cheerleading events, which explained how she was able to thrive in both her academic and social life at the same time unlike Bibi who found it hard to combine both.

Bibi turned back to her mother, deciding not to engage Vivian today. "I'll come see you next weekend, Mom. Take care," she said as she walked out and got into her car.

Unlike Vivian, Bibi was quite successful. She hadn't gained success through the family business or gifts from their father like Vivian always did. Instead, she had worked extremely hard out in the world to ensure that she made ends meet and survived all by herself just to prove to her father that she was good enough.

At first, she had worked as a waitress at an African-cuisine restaurant.

"What a shame!" her father had said years ago when he stepped into the African Cuisine Restaurant to confirm the rumors, "You're a big disappointment, Bibi. You've always found a way to drag the family's name through the mud of the general public. Of all jobs to get, you chose the job of a mere waitress simply because I refused to let you into the family business! Couldn't you have found something more dignifying to do?"

Bibi had swallowed hard as her father's usual hurtful words stung. She had shut her eyes tightly, trying to hold back the pain and avoid the quizzical eyes of the customers at the restaurant. Her father in his fine and expensive-looking tuxedo stood above her, mocking her efforts, "A mere waitress," he had called her, but wasn't being a mere waitress in another person's business more dignified than being made to sit at home all day long, doing nothing for her father's company while her younger sister who often delighted in talking down at her headed the company in all glory?

"Hell no!" Bibi had said to herself that day, and after that, she had worked twice as hard, done double shifts so as to make something meaningful of her life as she knew she couldn't remain a waitress all her life. That would only make her father and sister gloat the more.

In no time, the nice and kind-hearted manager of the African Cuisine restaurant, Mr. Jonathan, had picked a candid interest in her. She was exceptionally hardworking and brilliant, so he promoted her barely four months after she started working at the Swiss' restaurant.

Bibi became the accountant at first, and when Mr. Jonathan was sure he could trust her with his money, he made her the new manager while he and his old lovely wife retired and decided to spend the rest of their years together, returning back to their roots in Africa.