THE POOR COPY

Without Nicole, Brenda’s life would be perfect. Separated by just one year, Nicole received more attention from her parents who have always highlighted her talent.

Nicole and Brenda’s father, once a tennis player with a decent resume at regional level, after having introduced both daughters to tennis, after they were six years old, placed all his hopes of success in Nicole.

Brenda had the attitude to sacrifice. However, starting her career as a future professional tennis player would have required a greater effort (also financial) and, ultimately, without any certainty that, once she entered the professional circuit, she would have collected victories and sufficient earnings.

Nicole, on the other hand, was pure talent. Her father, as much as he tried to measure out the compliments for both of them, was ecstatic about Nicole’s shots, which were played with an elegance from another era. He would have stayed with her for hours on the court.

The typical syndrome of a frustrated parent. This is how Brenda has always defined her father’s attitude towards Nicole.

‘The second serve was out but, as always, you’re incredibly lucky.’ Brenda repeated to her sister, every time, after yet another defeat, shaking her head, looking dejected.

‘Talent, Brenda. It’s called talent. Dumb luck belongs to losers.’ Nicole would say, bitingly. She could sense her sister’s jealousy but she wasn’t bothered by it. On the contrary, she was flattered.

‘Enough, you two!’

‘She always wins, Dad!’

‘You need to have confidence in yourself, Brenda. The secret is all there, darling.’ Leo said, lying, to avoid fueling an all-too-obvious rivalry.

Confidence in myself. The secret lies entirely here, Brenda told herself in the next match when, perhaps, after playing well, she was down a set because Nicole was a notch above her, in any case. In moments like these, Brenda sought a reassuring glance from her father. She wanted him to hug her with the same enthusiasm with which he held Nicole, whispering to her every time: ‘Well done, little champion.’

Leo, however, was too focused on studying the gaps in Nicole’s game to notice that Brenda needed him.

If Leo had failed in tennis, forced to retire at just sixteen due to a serious injury, he did not want to lose his chance as a coach. He loved both his daughters but Nicole would make a difference. He was sure of it. He was equally certaine that Brenda, growing up, would understand. After all, everyone in the family would benefit from a champion, he repeated to himself, when he noticed the animosity between the sisters at the end of each practice.

*

At twelve, Brenda understood that to stand out she would have to work twice as hard as her sister. At the same time, however, she was convinced that she would exceed her sister. In fact, as she grew older, Nicole began to show signs of impatience. Respecting the rules, sacrificing the carefree nature of youth to become a famous tennis player was no longer Nicole’s goal.

‘What do you mean, you don’t want to play anymore?’

‘I don’t want to anymore, Dad.’ Nicole had said, after having unwrapped, disappointed, the Christmas presents, all, rigorously, always, tennis-themed.

‘This is crazy. You have talent, I’m training you to become a professional tennis player and have a brilliant life!’

Leo was astonished. Suddenly, all the projects planned over the years, with difficulty, were collapsing like houses of cards, on what should have been the most magical and purposeful day of the year, without him ever having perceived (or wanted to perceive) his daughter’s annoyance. Of course, Nicole had always been lazy but for Leo the intolerance was due to that innate talent that allowed her to always excel in everything, without too much effort.

‘That’s not what I want, Dad.’ Nicole replied with a shrug, leaving the presents scattered under the tree.

‘Leo, girls have to choose what’s best for them.’ Their mother had said.

‘But she’s a child, Ava, she’s not yet able to decide what’s best for her.’ Leo had replied, trying to maintain an apparent calm. In truth, he was sweating coldly, while the grandparents, paternal and maternal, sitting on the large sofa in the living room, decorated for the holidays, remained in an embarrassing silence. It was the first Christmas all together, after two years in which Leo and Ava’s parents had distanced themselves due to bad moods, caused by the permissive education that the two had established for their daughters.

Ava cared a lot about tradition and that year, just in view of the reunion with her respective parents, she had decorated the house with a play of essential but effective lights. The decorations, gold and red, were a tribute to her mother and mother-in-law, lovers of these colors. The family finally reunited had been the best gift of that Christmas. Everything seemed so perfect. Until the moment of opening the presents.

I wonder how happy they will be to hear their granddaughter humiliate her father, Leo thought, playing with the crumbs of a Panettone that he was already choking on. My father considers me someone who has failed his objective. He invested a lot of money when I was a boy to have me train in the best tennis academies and he always held it against me. Ava’s parents deplore the fact that their daughter left the UK to marry a tennis instructor from a tourist village and, what’s more, a foreigner.

But deep down, Leo also knew he was to blame. If only he had spoken openly about his aspirations for Nicole. Training and tournaments were a game for little girls, he said.

To Ava, however, it was clear, year after year, that the hours dedicated to tennis were increasing more and more because Leo was planning a professional path for Nicole. Perhaps, if he had declared his intentions, explaining that Nicole’s talent was not to be wasted, today he would not find himself with another dream to definitively close away. Perhaps, if he had involved his wife and Brenda more, converting their father’s aspirations into a family project, they would now be planning the tennis season, talking about it around the festively laid table.

‘He’ll learn by making mistakes.’ Ava continued. The woman looked tenderly at her husband, whom she had met on a hot Italian summer. She was a British woman on holiday, he was a tennis coach. The most obvious stereotype, which no one would have bet on, had turned into a love that had lasted a few decades.

‘Instead, I know what I want. To paint!’

‘Don’t be silly, Nicole!’ Her father had replied, frowning.

‘Nicole is an artist. She will succeed in any field.’ Her mother continued. Ava was a practical woman. She admired Leo’s attempt but reproached him for not considering the idea that, as they grew up, Nicole’s path and his might never be the same. At the same time, she adored her daughters and (she too) had a soft spot for Nicole. She would never interfere in his choices.

Hurt by her mother’s last remark, Brenda listened in silence, reflecting on her sister’s arrogance, who could even allow herself the luxury of giving up a promising future as a tennis player, while if she had only had half of Nicole’s talent, she would have worked hard to emerge in her favorite sport. Nicole snubbed Christmas presents, the latest rackets, the matching outfits in pastel colors that she, instead, loved so much. Brenda sketched a forced smile when, unwrapping Christmas or birthday presents, her expectations of receiving, like her sister, something related to the sport she also practiced were, punctually, disappointed.

‘I decide my own future.’ Nicole had concluded, tired of having to argue about a topic that was silly to her.

She had never thought of making tennis her profession. It was a very nice game to share with her father. Now, however, it was no longer time for tennis shoes. Nicole preferred to paint within the walls of her room, dreaming of leaving an indelible mark, one day, in the world of contemporary art.

That Christmas marked a watershed in the family.

Leo fell into a silence that lasted a very long time. It was hard for Ava to make her husband understand that children are entities in their own right and that the fact their choices can sometimes be incomprehensible does not imply that they do not love those who brought them into the world.

Nicole had evolved from a child to a preteen, deciding it was time to live her own life and not the one her father had envisioned for her.

Brenda, for her part, continued to consider herself a poor imitation of her sister, despite being an exemplary student and daughter. Her discomfort was not resentment towards her family, whom she loved, but rather the attempt to stand out in order to receive the same praise and attention that her father dedicated to Nicole.

*

Every argument between Nicole and Brenda annoyed their mother, who was fed up with the frequent bickering but did nothing to ease the animosity between the sisters. ‘If you can’t get along with each other, don’t expect better from society.’ That was all Ava could say before returning, distracted, to her household chores.

‘The usual story, mum.’ Brenda replied. ‘It’s just sisterly chatter.’

Brenda always tried to patch things up because she didn’t like fighting, but she also didn’t want to give Nicole the satisfaction.

‘I don’t need anyone.’ Nicole echoed her, with the typical cocky attitude that, as she grew up, made her aloof.

‘Neither do I.’ Brenda said. ‘But we are sisters. Blood ties cannot be erased with a sponge.’ Brenda emphasized, as if to imply that, as special as Nicole felt, her potential was also the result of an education and family attention that allowed both of them to live, each being able to cultivate their own interests.

When her parents heard Brenda be so mature about her sister, even though she was the younger of the two, they felt reassured that Nicole would always find a point of reference in her.

Brenda, for her part, was waiting for a clear gesture of admiration from her parents towards this daughter who was perhaps too diligent, yet no signal came from them, at least not with the same significance with which they expressed enthusiasm and support for Nicole. Despite all her efforts, she was always one step behind. A step behind her sister. A poor copy.

*

‘I want to become a lawyer and earn a lot of money.’ Brenda said, a few years later.

‘I, on the other hand, want to travel the world.’ Nicole, a student at the Academy of Fine Arts, said.

‘And what would you live on?’ Brenda asked, having inherited her mother’s pragmatism.

‘My art.’Nicole replied, while she pointed to the corners of the living room where Ava had hung her artist daughter’s first works on display.

‘You’ll starve.’

‘And you’ll be unhappy.’

Brenda knew that by graduating, she would give her parents the greatest satisfaction.

In fact, Ava and Leo were very excited about the idea of ​​having a doctor in the family.

The charm of Nicole, however, who, still a girl, was taking her first steps in the art world, arousing the curiosity of industry insiders, overshadowed every success of Brenda, who, after all, was too ordinary for two parents now accustomed to the genius spark of their eldest daughter.

The Christmas following Nicole’s graduation from the Academy had been a holiday to remember. With the help of her art teacher, Nicole had managed to put on her first show. A small event, but one that her family and friends had remembered for a long time. Especially Brenda.

That Christmas had been special for her too. The last one as a student. In an impeccable academic journey, Brenda was nearing her Law degree, which she would soon obtain with top marks, given her average grades. Her parents were proud of her, and Brenda was equally proud of herself. The parents were proud of her and Brenda was too of herself. Yet, even during yet another Christmas spent with her family, Nicole’s exhibition had been the topic of discussion. Brenda, also thanks to her type of studies, had made strides in self-awareness, praised Nicole’s talent, towards whom she felt an almost maternal affection, but that feeling of never being enough, lived with her. Always. Especially during the Christmas season. More than birthdays where the celebrations were individual and the attention was exclusively on the guest of honor, Christmas, for Brenda, openly revealed her parents’ weaknesses.

Leo and Ava were different at Christmas. That Christmas, for example, they had worked hard to promote Nicole’s work, looking for clients for her. The large family house was full of people coming and going to see Nicole’s paintings, buying them or ordering new ones. Since Ava had delegated to Nicole the arrangement of the villa’s decorations, the compliments and attention were all for the house artist, Brenda wished Christmas would never come.

*

After graduating (with top marks, as she had expected), Brenda began her internship at a law firm, quickly gaining the trust of the owner who decided to hire her. Four years later, she married the owner’s son.

She had chosen December as the month for the wedding because, however unusual the time, it was Christmas time. She wanted it to finally become her month too, the one remembered for having said, I want to marry him.

‘You could have enjoyed life for a while. A child is demanding.’ The mother had said, when she learned of Brenda’s pregnancy. ‘You don’t have to be a parent.’

‘So, I wonder why you had children when the role of mother has always felt too tight for you.’

‘Controversy, as usual.’ Ava had sighed. ‘Changing the subject, have you heard from your sister?’

‘She emailed me from Paris a few days ago.’ Brenda had replied, distracted.

‘Her naive paintings are getting a hit.’ Her mother had said.

‘Good for her if she’s pleased to wander.’

‘Your sister is an artist.’

‘Yep. An artist.’ Brenda shakes her head. ‘And me, mum, what am I to you?’

‘A very intelligent girl. For this reason, I don’t understand your jealousy towards Nicole, even though today your position is far more privileged than hers.’

‘She has always been your favourite. The genius who dirtied the walls with those scribbles that you called masterpieces.’ She says, imitating his mother’s affected voice. ‘Not to mention Dad, who never bothered to hide his adoration for Nicole.’

‘Your father loved you both equally. And if he were alive today, he would be proud of your accomplishments.’

‘I didn’t leave Dad alone in the hospital for a single moment.’ Brenda says, holding back tears. ‘Nicole, on the other hand, came in the last few days. And Dad’s eyes lit up with a different light when he saw her.’

‘It’s just your feeling.’ The mother had retorted, without flinching. ‘Nicole has always had a more outgoing personality than yours. With us, she has always sought dialogue.’

Brenda had sketched a bitter smile.

‘I did it too and I hoped to see in your eyes the same admiration, the same pride you both showed for Nicole.’

‘You’re a woman, now. You should have overcome certain insecurities.’

‘Your coldness is not at all maternal, Mother.’

‘We are much more alike than you think, my dear. We do not like to express our feelings.’

‘You are wrong, Mother. We are not alike at all.’

‘It would be nice to see you home for Christmas. That Christmas that used to be so special to all of us.’ Ava had said, her eyes nostalgic.

‘Special for you three. Maybe.’ Brenda had said, only to regret it later, seeing her mother grimace with displeasure. ‘We’ll see, Mum. I’ll do my best.’ He said, sighing. Brenda loved her family, despite everything. Especially now that they were alone, due to the untimely death of Dad Leo.

That Christmas was different from the others. The third without Leo but the pain had a slightly lighter color, tempered by the sweetness of memories. And there were many. Ava and her daughters had wanted to spend Christmas day together, without relatives and friends. Around the fireplace they had leafed through the albums of their childhood, then of their adolescence and, finally, of their young adulthood. Between tennis courts but also trips, concerts, theater shows, the family had spent a lot of time together. That time became, year after year, a memory to draw from for life.

While Ava was still recounting their first meeting, which her daughters had known all about since they were little girls and Nicole was commenting on almost every photo, Brenda noticed that in every shot her daughters had the same space and their parents gave them both the same smiles. Maybe Brenda had to start making peace with her past. Maybe she had never been a bad copy of her sister. Not for her parents.

*

Two and a half years after the birth of Brenda and David’s daughter, Nicole also announced her pregnancy.

Back in Milan permanently, engaged with Jacques, Nicole had made a career, alternating painting on canvas with painting on glass and small sculpture works commissioned even from abroad,

‘When are you getting married?’ Brenda had asked her one day.

‘Marriage is for women like you who want certainties and a pedigree to show off in society. Jacques and I love each other and our daughter will never want for anything.’

‘I imagine you’ll give birth in a hospital and not in a clinic.’

‘You guessed it. Like ordinary mortals, in a hospital.’ Nicole had said, looking around. ‘You know, little sister, this house is too cold, impersonal.’

‘I like it.’

‘I have some paintings that would make your living room look different.’

‘Show me and then I’ll decide.’

‘Okay, but I’ll give you one. You pay for the rest.’

‘Money’s not a problem for me.’ Brenda had stressed.

‘You, instead, make sure that the income from Jacques’s gym is enough to support you. At first you won’t even be able to scratch your belly, let alone paint.’

‘You just need to know how to organize yourself.’ Nicole had replied, without too much concern. ‘Our mother raised us without any help.’

‘She raised us, you said it right. I was referring to being mothers.’

‘You’ve always been too strict with our parents. They loved us the best they could.’

‘You’re right about that.’

‘By the way, will you be joining us for Christmas? Mum will prepare a vegetarian menu, in honour of my conversion to a more natural diet.’

‘I’ve been vegan for years but my mother has never prepared a menu in honor of my conversion.’

‘Here we go again.’ Nicole retorts, rolling her eyes. ‘Mum was always a vegetarian. Veganism is the next step. She might want to do something different. If you were vegan, she would have done it for you. So stop being a loser.’

That little voice that whispered to her that she was the bad copy, came back from time to time. Brenda, however, was resolute not to be overwhelmed. She was a grown woman and she had to banish the demons of the past once and for all.

Christmas since Leo was gone was not, and would never be, the same. Yet, in some ways, Brenda awaited it with less anguish, certain that a dive into her memories would make her more docile.

‘Yes, maybe, you’re right.’ She had said, while Nicole looked at her with a disarming smile. ‘I’ll be there for Christmas.’

That Christmas was very moving and, at the same time, full of smiles. Nicole and Brenda had given Ava a DVD with videos and photos of all the Christmas lunches from their early years of life up to the last Christmas with Dad. For each Christmas, there was a soundtrack of the time, loved by their parents.

Brenda was proud of herself for having silenced, at least for a few days, the demons that, occasionally, troubled her.

Ten years later

Brenda co-owns the practice with her husband, which they inherited from her father-in-law. She works a lot and earns just as much. Her daughter Linda studies at one of the most exclusive private schools in Milan, has a French tutor, and plays tennis four times a week.

‘Our daughter will never be a professional tennis player, get over it.’

Massimo has decided not to follow Brenda and Linda to tournaments anymore because he is tired of watching the issues his wife raises at every match, questioning the umpire’s decisions.

‘Her coach thinks she can emerge as a tennis player.’

‘She’s just saying that to get money out of you.’ He replies every time. ‘At twelve, she’s never even reached the eighth finals of a local tournament, where do you expect her to go.’

‘She can still make it, and besides, sports shape character, teaching that one must make sacrifices to achieve goals.’

‘So why not enroll Linda in swimming or maybe volleyball, disciplines that equally seriously shape body and personality?’

‘She likes tennis.’

‘Linda plays tennis because our granddaughter does too.’

‘But you were the one who put the racket in her hand the first time!’

‘But I also had her play basketball and she liked it. Though when you saw Matilde playing tennis with her father, you decided to enroll Linda as well.’

‘I do not force, I follow his inclinations.’

‘You should finally stop seeing your sister as a perpetual rival. The fact that you are different doesn’t mean you are inferior. ‘Imagine if I ever thought of that!’

‘You make it seem like that with your behavior.’

‘And anyway, since Linda has been attending the club, Matilde has also been taking lessons.’

‘That’s not true. Matilde has been playing since she was five and she also does athletics because Jacques is a great athlete, you know.’

‘You always have something to say about everything I do. ‘'m going to make dinner.’

Brenda is annoyed. She has everything but that thought that seemed dormant has recently returned to wear her down.

The regular comparison with her sister still make her feel like the bad copy.

*

‘You entered her in the tournament to make Linda look bad.’

‘Jacques did it all. I don’t live for what you and your daughter do.’

‘You’ve always wanted to be the best and now you use Matilde because you're jealous of our standard of living.’

‘Jealousy is the beast you’ve always lived with, Brenda, and it consumes you more and more every day.’

‘It was important for Linda to bring home a victory!’

‘It’s not Matilde’'s fault if she played better.’

‘It’s like when we were little.’ Brenda had said, her voice moved. ‘I used to work hard on my books, and then you came along and got the same grades as me.’

‘If you accepted your limits, like I do with mine, you’d live better, believe me.’

‘Easy for those who achieve everything without effort.’

‘No one gave me anything, my dear sister. I’ve always been self-sufficient and didn’t need a rich husband to assert myself.’

‘I studied and worked harder than you to get to this point.’

‘That’s true, but you wouldn’t have become a successful lawyer at a young age, rushing through the stages, without the help of your father-in-law.’ Nicole looks at her sister with a compassionate expression. Perhaps all this discomfort is partly her fault. Compared to Brenda, she has always been less maternal, less eager to give and receive affection. Probably, if she had listened to Brenda more, if she had been more complicit, their relationship would be less conflictual today.

‘Does it bother you that I skipped steps?’

‘Let’s not fight, come on, Brenda.’ We’ve already wasted so much time. Nicole says. ‘Come here.’ They hug, and Brenda feels the sincerity of her sister’s gesture of affection. ‘Do you want to go buy Christmas gifts together? There’s not much time left. Let’s make it really special this year.’

That year, the sisters worked hard to help their mother prepare Christmas lunch. Since she had become a grandmother, Ava had been living a second life. Now, she once again had two good reasons (Lidia and Matilde) to look forward to weekends, birthdays and even the most special occasion of the year, Christmas. The family holiday, the one to which Ava dedicated herself well in advance every year, was returning to have that meaning of union, welcome, sharing, love that she and her husband Leo had cultivated over time.

Even the memory of that Christmas hadn’t escaped Brenda. She and her sister had shared a project, to bring a different Christmas to the big family home. It hadn’t happened since the days of tennis practice with Dad, before he devoted himself to training a champion named Nicole. She has always missed those training sessions. Moments of joy that made her feel equal to her sister. Just like the Christmas lunches of childhood when the gifts had a special value for Brenda as a child because they were the symbol of a careful choice by the parents for both sisters.

*

‘Darling, Lidia would like to sign up for horse riding.’ Brenda had said at the end of the summer to his husband.

‘Is our daughter bored of tennis?’ Massimo asked, feigning surprise. In truth, it is clear to him that the sudden change concerns his relationship with Nicole.

Linda has lost again in the first round to her cousin and Brenda is nervous.

‘She can’t find peers at her level to socialize with.’ She had justified herself. ‘Tennis is no longer an exclusive sport. You also said that it would be better if she did something else, right?’

Massimo had nodded, throwing up his arms. He was sure that his wife, despite the attempts, the good intentions (which she promised to keep every Christmas with her family), would never stop feeling like a bad copy.

Veronica L. is the pen name of an Italian author. PhD, she is the author of essays, non fiction books, some published by Anglo-Saxon publishers. Veronica writes novels and stories, both in Italian and English.