“Not that side,” she cried, wildly gesticulating with her hands, “This way, anticlockwise.”

I proceeded to follow, cursing myself for not learning proper bandaging in first aid class.

“Again you left the bandage roll. You can’t just drop it that way. It becomes unsterile,” she scolded.

I shifted uncomfortably, trying to do it in the correct way.

“It looks so much easier when I see your mom doing it,” I lifted up another piece of bandage, wondering where that goes in.

“Every piece of your body is safely mummified,” I joked, “Where does this go on?”

She turned a shade pink.

“Umm, you leave it, I’ll put it on,” she said.

“No, I’ll help you. Your mom does right?” I asked, still not getting the hint.

“Leave it, you can’t do it,” her face was flushed.

“Let me try,” I was indignant.
She looked squarely at me and I shuddered under the scrutiny.

“What…”

I froze midway as she deftly slipped one strap of her bra over the loop, letting that side hang down a little. It actually gave me enough of a view to make me stammer,
“Oh… okay…um…I’m turning…No…I’m leaving…I…”

“You’re backing off?” there was a challenge in her voice.

“Phoebe, I’m not strong enough,” I sighed.

She slid off the bed, snatched the bandage and disappeared into her closet.
After a few minutes, she emerged, fully clothed and tossed the pile of my clothes which lay forgotten.

I quickly put them on realizing that we both had been barely clothed the whole time and yet we had our desires under control.

“So what now?” I scuttled to her side, as she sat down on the bed with a fat diary.

“We need to write a letter.”

“Are you serious? A letter in the age of smartphones and emails?”

“Because the person sent a letter to me and I feel the reply should be a letter.”

“Who sends a letter these days?”

“The letter is meant for an elder sister who is lost…” her voice faltered.

“Jamie,” I sighed. “Are you sure you want to do this…I mean have them back in your life?”

“Not them, but him. I have nothing to do with my parents,” she blinked away tears.

“That won’t become the truth if you try to say it with emphasis. Your eyes tell that you care about them,” I placed my hand on her cheek. “And I understand how hard it is for you.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that they prefer to consider me dead without making an enquiry,” she got up, pacing the room and finally slumped on her study table.

“Maybe they tried. Jamie is still young. He isn’t supposed to know everything," I countered.

“But they said that to me too. Not directly but their gestures spoke volumes about what they think has happened to me and they left me in the first place. Please, Daniel, don’t make it any harder than it already is.” Tears escaped, rolling down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” I said, cupping her face, kissing away her tears.

“You do know some romantic gestures, don’t you?” she tried to smile.

“Perks of taking up English literature in my college,” I retorted.

“Anyway, so where were we?” she focused her attention again.

“We’ll write a letter to Jamie,” I said brightly, happy to have provided a momentary distraction to her problems.

“Hmmm.

"But…”

“What?”

“I was wondering if Jamie would come after the address and then he would know that you’re the one,” I said.

“Isn’t the whole motto of this thing to let him know that I’m the one?” she was surprised.

“Oh! I thought you wanted to keep your identity a secret from Jamie.”

“I guess you’re right. He doesn’t need to know it’s me. I won’t write out my full address if that’s what you’re afraid of. I just want him to know that his sister is alive.”

“Do you have any ideas of how to do it? Because I’m at a loss as to how you would pull off this letter.”

“Let me see,” she mumbled, picking up a paper and a pen.

I sat there watching her scribble away on the paper, as her fingers glided gently. She stopped to catch her breath and relax her fingers in between.

The one little detail that surprised me most was how she stuck out her tongue at an angle as she wrote those letters. The tongue moved with the pen, making the sight a highly comical one.

Finally, she handed the paper to me and I began reading it out aloud.

Dear Jamie,

I am writing this to let you know that I am there. I’m the sister you’ve been searching for so many years. I’ve alive and I can’t tell you how happy I am to find out that I have someone in my life on whom I can depend. Your concern for me has moved me and when Phoebe told me about you, I couldn’t but help admit how lucky I am to find a younger brother who is quite caring. But, I don’t think mum and dad should know that I’m alive. I hope you’ll be responsible and keep this a secret. Only if you promise me that, can I trust you to keep contact with me?

If you want to talk to me mail me at...

“Seems quite neutral. But once he mails you, it would be more difficult to keep up with the hiding. Hope you don’t slip up” I mumbled.

“Those are later concerns. First I need to post this from a different mailbox. Help me,” she got up on her feet and trudged to the door with me following after her.