General Non-Fiction posted January 3, 2025 |
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A sister story where competition is everything
The Rose
by Lori Mulligan
We should have known back in high school, when we each took Con Dowler to our respective proms, that that wouldn’t be the first time we fell for the same guy!
Our respective and concurrent vying for Dr. Rob Rosenbaum’s attention really tested our sisterhood. He was a fellow neurosurgeon of Lisa’s. Divorced, three spoiled kids–yet we still thought he was a catch. Maybe it was the chiseled jawline, the hazel eyes, the swagger on his 6-2” frame, and the MD after his name?
We went from “twins separated by time” to two reality show contestants fighting for the rose from this dapper bachelor. I never imagined either one of us would stoop so low in seeking a man’s attention, let alone a man that the other one—along with numerous pretty pharmaceutical sales reps—wanted.
At this time in our lives, I was considered the prettier one and she was considered the smarter one. And I just assumed that my physical assets would outweigh book smarts, but that theory didn’t hold water. There were times I would come over to her house and they would be studying together, and he looked so impressed.
In a way, I shouldn’t have been surprised, as I’ve spent most of my life living in Lisa’s shadow despite my own accomplishments. Anyway, the race was on, and I wasn’t losing this time. The rose had my name on it.
“What are you doing Lee?” I asked one evening.
“Well, Rob just left. He came over for pizza and we read case studies together.”
“What? Why didn’t you invite me for pizza? You always do.”
“Let’s face it, it’s not about the pizza. You’re just not used to competing for your man,” her claws sharpened as we spoke.
Oh, how we misbehaved to try to win his attention. I countered by inviting him to sushi the next day. He came and flirted the whole time. I asked him if he liked Lisa and he said, “I like both of you. You each have your own set of strengths.”
“That’s not what I mean…I mean do you like her?” inquiring like a girl with a high school crush.
He avoided answering the question and just said, “I find the Mulligan girls quite intriguing.”
“Intriguing? We’re not here for your entertainment or psychoanalysis.” Even though it seemed like I couldn’t get enough of him, I stormed out of Taipei Tokyo, got in my Land Rover, and sped off. How dare he? And while I knew I should direct all my agitation toward him, I directed some at Lisa, and directed some at me.
In a moment that probably indicated just how pathological things had become, we actually gave him the exact same gift for Christmas: A coffee mug quoting a favorite line from Office Space, a cult classic that the three of us had watched together many times. He looked at us with a smug grin across his face and said, holding up my mug, “This is my favorite mug ever! No, wait, Lisa’s is my favorite. They’re so different, it’s hard to choose. You two need to be studied.” I shot Lisa with such a dirty look that not all the OXY clean in the free world could clean it up. We must have stared each other down for quite a while because finally Rob asked, “Is something wrong between you two?” “No, of course not,” we both said.
For months, this is how he played us off one another. He took me to the Medical Corps Ball, then traveled around the country with Lisa looking at potential medical practices to join.
Lisa and I were so caught up with competing we weren’t paying attention to the fact that Rob was a grade A narcissist and the most shallow man East of the Mississippi.
One day, we arrived at our friend’s BBQ prepared for another cat fight because Rob was planning to be there. As we both crossed the crowded room and closed in on him, we said, “Hi Rob,” in unison. He stepped aside and said, “Hi ladies, this is Robin,” awkwardly taking the arm of a gorgeous brunette in a tight red dress who had apparently come in with him.
Lisa and I looked at her, then at him, then at each other, and headed straight for the drink cart.
“Give us something that will put hair on our chests!” Lisa commanded, and the bartender obliged. I noticed a vase on the bar with a few roses in it. I grabbed one, handed it to my sister, and said, “Maybe Robin got the Rob rose, but she also got the thorns!” We tinked glasses in silent understanding that we’d never go after the same man again.





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