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My sister whips the bottle out of my hand with surprising dexterity, considering she’s absolutely plastered. “No, I did not drink all of this in one sitting. I had some last night, too.”
“Oh, good, that’s much better.”
Lana turns around and drops the empty bottle in the sink. It clatters but thankfully doesn’t break. “You say I’m judgmental, but look at you judging me. Oh, how the tables have turned.”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “No judgment coming from this side of the room.”
Lana doesn’t look convinced, but she shrugs and takes another long glug of her cabernet. “What are you doing here anyway if you thought we were all gone?”
I point to the pantry. “I came for a frozen burrito. Maybe two. It depends on if there are more of the chicken and roasted street corn flavor in there.”
“There are. I just did the grocery delivery order yesterday and restocked.” She waves a hand at me. “Go ahead. Steal away. Take what you want and go. I knew you weren’t here to keep me company.”
Lana sounds relaxed enough, but I have the feeling there’s a deeper discomfort under her words. A hurt she’s trying hard not to show.
“I can warm up a burrito in your microwave as well as I can in my own.” I duck into the pantry and return with two ice-cold burritos. “Let’s hang out.”
“Fine. But at least use the air fryer. Those burritos taste like soggy shit when you microwave them.”
I snort. “Apparently, my palate isn’t as refined as yours. I always microwave them.”
Lana snatches the burritos out of my hand and moves to the counter on slightly shaky legs. “Then sit down and let me teach you about taste.”
The way my sister moves around the kitchen is comfortable, practiced. She pivots to grab a plate out of the cabinet without looking and then snatches a fork out of the drawer and slides it closed in the same movement.
“You look like Mom,” I observe.
“I am a mom.”
“No,” I shake my head. “Not a mom;ourmom. Mom. The way you move around the kitchen. I’m expecting you to pick something up off the floor with your toes. Remember how she always did that?”
Her shoulders tighten for a second. Just long enough for me to clock it. But then she eases back down into her rhythm. “That was disgusting. She once picked up a spoon I dropped with her toes. She couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t eat with it once she handed it back to me.”
I laugh. “By the time I was old enough to care, it was just the two of us. There was no one around to judge. I guess I didn’t mind.”
“I guess not,” she says. “Maybe I should lower my standards. I’m on my own most of the time anyway.”
Unlike before, this comment doesn’t feel light and jokey. There’s a weight attached to it. A heaviness that settles in the air and draws us down into silence.
“Where is everyone tonight?” I ask.
“The kids are at a sleepover with their cousins. Mitchell’s sister planned a party for no reason at all. They’re going to watch a movie out on the lawn and eat themed snacks and play games. The whole nine yards.”
“That’s fun.”
“It’s how she finds fulfillment, I guess.” Lana drops my burritos in the air fryer and slides the drawer closed. “Taking care of all those kids for a full day would drive me batty. But I guess she likes it. I don’t know what the fuck she’ll do once her kids are gone, though.”
“I thought you liked Angela. That’s her name, right?”
She nods distantly. “I do. She’s… nice.”
I wince. “Yikes. That’s not a compliment coming from you. What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Something happened. When you and Mitchell got married, you and Angela were inseparable. I actually blocked you on Instagram for a while.”
She gasps. “You did not!”
