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I scan her as I pass them over. For one sickening second, our eyes meet and I think I see tears in hers. Oh fuck. My stomach bottoms out.
“What’s wrong?”
She ignores me and turns away. “I’ll see you later. I have my cell if you need me.” She starts walking, practically running away from me. Don’t let her leave.
“Thompson. Wait.”
She speeds up, her shoulders tense, her head down. I slump against her desk as she disappears into the elevator bank. I should have chased her.
* * *
That afternoon, my cell phone rings and the name on the display makes me shut my eyes briefly.
Christine. I do not want to deal with my sister right now, but I’ve been avoiding her for days.
I accept the call and the sound of moody singer-songwriter music fills my ear.
“Now he picks up the phone.” Her brash voice carries over the line.
“Are you driving?”
“On our way to the doctor. For Mia’s five-month checkup. Which you’d know if you ever bothered to call me back. Or come to family dinner.”
That’s Christine. Blunt as ever. And I refuse to feel guilty, even if the pit in my stomach says otherwise.
“Hi, Jonah.” Mia sounds unexpectedly calm today. “You should call your sister more.” There it is. The fierce protection of my sister. The one reason I put up with Mia’s nonsense.
“I’ve been busy.”
“You’re always busy,” Christine protests. “You need to slow down and enjoy life sometimes. You’re going to be old before your time. Mark my words.”
“Did you just say mark my words? What are you, a fortune teller?”
She guffaws, and I know that I’ve earned a brief reprieve. Christine is just the vanguard, the canary in the coal mine. Soon, I’ll have my mother calling.
“How’s the baby?”
“Oh, you know, kicking the shit out of his mother. Glad it’s not me.”
Mia laughs. I was the sperm donor for them, so Christine couldn’t use her eggs. She says she got the better end of the bargain, along with several other choice descriptions of female anatomy and the word destroyed. I prefer not to think about it.
“He’s gonna look like you, J. I know it.”
“You mean he’ll come out of the womb scowling?” Mia snorts a laugh, and Christine joins her.
Christine has the same wild black hair that I do. My mom’s Italian genes are strong. Their baby probably will look like me. And I’ll have no fucking clue how to deal with it. I’m not a baby kind of guy. I’ve never held one, and I don’t intend to start now. But I know Christine will hate me forever if I don’t at least try to be an uncle.
“Hey, I spoke to the accountant about setting up that 529 plan.”
“He’s not even born yet,” my sister protests.
“It’s never too early to start planning for the future,” I respond.
“You need to relax, J. You’re all 529 plans and taxes and bonds and stuff. Stop and smell the roses.”
Well, one of us has to be the responsible one. But I don’t say that. Our roles were established years ago, and I’ll only hurt my sister. One of a few people in the world I care about protecting.
“About that baby shower,” Christine starts, and I groan.
