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“Are you sure, miss? We can go anywhere you like.”
“Really!” I chuckle, briefly contemplating taking the Mercedes for a spin around the Great Lakes. “Well… That’s a really tempting offer. But just the apartment, and then work, I think. That’s probably for the best.”
“Yes, miss.”
It’s kind of a bummer, but maybe I will be able to go back up and visit them at some point and get the same offer? Or now that I’ve met my nephews, I’d love to do some kind of vacation with them. Wisconsin Dells is always a delight. I bet they would enjoy going on the amphibious vehicles, splashing over rocks into the water. That’s always fun.
Finally we pull into an empty spot in front of the apartment. I slide over on the seat to open the door.
“I won’t be very long,” I shrug. “It’s just a sweater.”
“Take your time,” he smiles politely. “I’ll wait for you here.”
I’m sad to leave the car, but this is still the right thing to do, I remind myself. I head up the stairs to our door, visualizing where I put my green sweater. Back of the bedroom door? I’m pretty sure that’s right. Sometimes the air-conditioning is just ridiculously cold.
I key open the door and it swings inward, revealing the living room and kitchen combination, filled with midmorning light. It’s like a movie set.
For a few seconds, I’m not sure what I am looking at. The figures are silhouetted by bright sun, and it’s almost cartoonish. Their outlines throb and vibrate violently. Their voices saturate the air like beads of sweat.
I just stand in the foyer until details fill in. That’s Ronnie. Pajamas around his ankles. No shirt. His hips pumping like a cartoon character.
And that’s… Janet. Fucking Janet.
Ronnie is fucking Janet.
On my kitchen counter!
I walk forward, stomping the heels of my sneakers as loud as I can. In slow motion they pause, mid-thrust and mid-groan, their heads swiveling toward me in unison. Eyes wide, mouths open and red with kisses. Brows greasy with sweat.
Fucking Ronnie. Fucking Janet!
I stand there long enough for all of us to get this scene good and imprinted on our forebrains before turning on my heel and stomping off toward the bedroom. I snatch the green sweater off the back of the door and stomp back out, taking the long way around so I get dangerously close to the both of them. Close enough that if I had a frying pan I could reach out and swing it and hit them both square in the head. Close enough that if I had the cattle prod I could zap him right in the nut sack. Close enough that I can count the shiny red zits on his flappy butt cheeks.
“You found your sweater, miss?” the driver asks me, smiling, as I fling open the door and dive into the back seat. “To the coffee shop, then?”
“Change of plans!” I announce.
“I’m glad to hear it!” He grins in the rearview mirror as he slowly pulls the Mercedes into the sparse traffic of our residential street. “Where will it be, then?”
I think about it for just a second. Just a moment or two to ask myself, do I mean it? Do I really mean it?
“You know what? Let’s head on back to Lake Geneva,” I say, finding my voice a little stronger than I thought it was going to be. “I have a job offer to accept.”
Chapter 11
Chance
I remember Saturday mornings as a kid. Jack and I could watch cartoons for hours and hours. Trade the Game Boy back and forth between turns. Play ball in the yard or a game that we used to call “rugby” that turned out to not really be a whole lot more like real rugby than soccer meets professional wrestling.
Before our father married Chelsea’s mother, it was just the two of us, stretching back as far as memory went. During the week, we had school. On the weekends, we had a pattern. Sugary cereal and cartoons. Bored roughhousing. Our dad hustling business on the phone.
I don’t remember our birth mother very well, I have to confess. She died when we were quite young. I suppose it left a void, but I don’t remember a void. I remember Dad, and then I remember our new family. The transition was seamless. We didn’t really suffer.
But maybe that’s because we always had each other. Jack and I are a team. An inseparable team.
I do remember that it was a little weird to suddenly have a younger sister. Well, stepsister. I can’t say that I remember our first meeting, precisely, but I do remember a general sense of awkwardness. Unease. Caution around this small, curious, delicate person. Our parents proclaimed us all “family” and we accepted that, but it was still strange.
I guess we sort of thought of her as a doll. Something to be protected, maybe something we should put on a trophy shelf and keep dusted and clean. Sheltered from harm. But we knew we couldn’t play too rough with her, or she would break like one of those Hummel figurines.
