Page 4 of The Flight Risk

“Yes, please, thank you.”

“Another one, sis? Slow down.”

I already want to explode. I wonder every day how we came from the same parents. I brush away her comment, finish my drink and say, “So, what’s going on with you, Tara?”

“What do you mean? I wanted to see my little sis.” She brushes some blonde hair over her shoulder and adjusts in her seat, attempting to pass off any degree of confusion.

“Tara,” I deadpan. She never wants to just hang out. She only puts in the effort if it is going to benefit her. We live in the same city and I barely see her. I tried to put in the effort to see her because she is my only sister and I wanted to spend time with my only niece, Lottie. But, whenever I finally had the time to hang, Tara would always find an excuse to back out. Once I realized she wasn’t reciprocating the gesture of texting or calling me first, I backed away and distanced myself from her. I can love her from afar. I text Lottie more than I text Tara.

“Oh, well, I met someone.” Shocker. Tara meets someone new every month. It never lasts but somehow they are always someone special. “He is so special, Tess. I have never met anyone like him before in my life.” That’s when I notice the sparkling diamonds around her neck and the tennis bracelet glistening in the light.

The waiter comes back with our drinks. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.” He gives me an apologetic glance after placing my second mimosa in front of me.

“Thanks.” I hand him my empty glass. My sister is texting away on her phone and doesn’t thank our waiter at all. She is a waitress herself, for goodness sake.

“So, anyway, like I was saying, he is super special. His name is Hunter Remington III. And we met when he was at a business dinner at the restaurant. I was their waitress and he left his number on the receipt and told me to call him and the rest is history. I mean, he was flirting with me all night. I just knew he was going to make a move.”

I raise my eyebrows. My sister and I do have one thing in common: we both love men. She is the hopeless romantic who falls hard fast and unabashedly. I don’t fall in love. Men are fun, but I never attach my heart to them like she does.

“Sounds like a fairytale. So what does Hunter do for a living?”

“He’s a hedge fund portfolio manager. Oh Tess, I cannot wait for you to meet him! He is so fantastic and unlike anyone else I’ve been with.”

“How old is he?”

“Early forties.”

Not as old as I thought. She’s fallen for older men in the past. I purse my lips. “Sounds like the perfect man for you.”

“I mean, he’s the perfect man for anyone.” She pulls up a picture of him and objectively, he is pretty handsome. Something tells me that he also has generational wealth alongside the hundreds of thousands of dollars he makes annually. For my sister to add the third at the end of his name, I know he comes from money. Also, the diamonds covering her person is a clear indicator that he is very well off.

“Are you ladies ready to order?” The waiter clicks his pen.

“Yes, I’ll take the All-American Burger, please. With the parmesan truffle fries.” I hand the menu over to him. I notice the judgy look on my sister’s face as she orders a salad with dressing on the side. I feel myself shrink back into my own body like I’ve done for so many years. I have worked hard to fight my body dysmorphia. I got my genes from my dad’s side and was always slightly curvier than Tara, who got her slim figure from our mother. She also got my mother’s blonde hair, fair skin and brown eyes and I was graced with our father’s dark brown hair, olive skin and green eyes. I take care of my body and am proud of how far I’ve come with my own perception of it. Still, there are moments like this that inherently make me doubt myself.

“Hmm…I’m surprised you ordered that, Tess. Are you sure you don’t want to order a salad?”

Is she serious right now? I scoff at her, “Yes, I am sure. What’s wrong with ordering a burger?”

“Well, you just look so great. I would think you want to watch your figure.”

“I’m fine with my figure. Are you fine with yours?”

Just like I learned in therapy, I’m calling out her projection onto me. My sister probably thinks her comments will keep me down like they did for so many years. That’s how she had power over me. To point out what she thought of as my flaws.

I change the subject. “How’s Lottie?” My niece is the most like me. She might as well be my little doppelganger, save for the brown eyes she inherited from Tara. The Lewis genes run strong within us and I have always loved that.

“Oh, Lottie is Lottie,” she says, her tone laced with annoyance.

“What does that mean?”

“She is so quirky. I swear when I found out I was having a daughter, I thought she would love everything I loved. It would be us against the world since her father decided to up and leave us.” Tara got pregnant when she was fifteen years old. Lottie’s dad was a senior and Tara was a sophomore. When Lottie’s dad graduated, he gave up his parental rights because he didn’t want to be tied down and wanted to experience college and whatever else life had to offer him. “I thought she’d be a cheerleader like me and be into pink girly things. But she’s just not. She’s so quiet and introverted and loves classical music. I thought we would be best friends, but we have nothing in common.”

I hate the way she talks about Lottie. Lottie deserves a mother who sees her for who she is and not what she expects her to be. I understand having a perception of how life is going to go, but there is also a point where life is going to unfold how it wants to. What is meant to be will be. Oakley’s green eyes flash in my head and I lose myself in them. Again.

“Hello? Tess, are you listening?” Tara is snapping her fingers in front of my face and I lean back in my chair.

“Yes.” I swipe her fingers out of my face. “All I can tell you is Lottie is a great kid and you don’t have anything to worry about. At least she isn’t getting into trouble, Tara. She is officially a teenager. It could be worse.” Our waiter comes back with our food. My stomach gurgles at the sight and smell and I cannot wait to dig in.