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“What do you mean? I’m very supportive of my former students learning new skills,” Abi said in mock offense.
“No, you totally are, and we love that about you,” Rachel was quick to amend, yet she squirmed in her chair and considered her words. “This just sounds more like something Leah would say, is all.”
“Fair,” Abi said, inclining her head to acknowledge the point. Her sister was certainly the more mercenary of the two of them. Then she grinned, tossing her hair off her shoulders. “But who do you think is the mastermind? Leah’s terrible with details. So, we’re agreed, then? Pudding pops and GameStop?”
“I wouldn’t want to ruin your good time.”
* * *
“Okay, but you’re not actually going to make this Efrat guy’s life miserable, are you?” Leah said, sounding more incredulous than disapproving.
Abi glanced over at her sister before returning her attention to the mushrooms she was slicing. “Probably not, but I want to. I know he’s just doing his job, but the whole thing pisses me off.” She scooped up the pieces of Portobello with both hands and dropped them onto the sizzling pan.
“Why, because of your property value?” Leah said, in a singsong voice before bending over to dig through the cheese drawer in her refrigerator.
“No, you twit, it’s the starting every morning at the ass-crack of dawn and the tree loss that I have more of a problem with, thanks,” Abi said, turning up the flame on the stove a little. She was always impatient when she sauteed mushrooms because she was so intent on not burning them. She needed to work on that. “Also, get the tomato and lettuce while you’re in there?”
“Yes, mom,” Leah said, but she did as she was told. “When did you turn into the fucking Lorax?”
“I’m not the fucking Lorax. I just think clearing that much land to put in a bullshit subdivision when there’s plenty of places around town that could be developed already is ridiculous,” Abi said as neutrally as she could because, strictly speaking, Leah wasn’t wrong, but also Abi felt defensive at the thought of agreeing with it.
“You mean, plenty of places around town that don’t mess with the view from your back deck?” Leah said, reaching around her sister for a cutting board. Leah’s kitchen was small, and over the last few months the two sisters had learned the dance that was cooking in it without tripping over each other. “You’re allowed to be pissy about your view. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“Leah Rose,” Abi said, making a point to stare down her sister in disapproval. Leah’s face didn’t change, and Abi deflated, having to concede the point. She pointed the spatula at Leah, “You be nice to me. I’ve had a rotten week.”
“I’m always nice to you,” Leah said, sweetly, then ruined it by making a rude gesture. “You’re the one who loses your mind when any part of your routine is fucked with. You’ve been a total jerk ever since you adopted those damn guinea pigs.”
“You leave my guinea pigs out of this,” Abi said. Technically speaking, she knew her sister was right, but this was just one of those times she wasn’t going to agree with her on principle. Abi eyed the pan critically, wondering if she needed more oil. She always did this. At some point it will stop being sauteing and will start becoming frying if you keep adding oil. “I’ve never had pets before, I want to make sure I don’t ruin their little lives or something.”
“Abi, they’re guinea pigs. You feed them lettuce, they poop, you give them new wood shavings, they’re happy.” Leah burst into delighted laughter, “You don’t have to spend a lot of time worrying about their development or anything, for fuck’s sake.”
“You’re being a bitch,” Abi said, annoyed with herself for being embarrassed. She knew her sister was right and she was overthinking things, but it was what she did. It was why she was so good at all the things that made her herself. She glared at Leah and stuck out her tongue. Leah laughed, completely unphased.
“You’re such a dweeb,” Leah said, as though none of these things meant anything anyway, and she was just commenting on the weather. She finished with the tomato and got started ripping the romaine into sandwich-sized pieces.
“You’re such a sister,” Abi said back, it was comfortable to bicker. “Did I tell you mom and dad think I have unresolved trauma or something?”
“Wait, what?” For a moment, Leah’s bemusement took over her whole face, and Abi felt a rush of affection for her twin. She elbowed her sister’s side playfully.
“Apparently, I’m hyper-independent, which is a trauma response. Also, they’re worried about me because I don’t have a significant other like Simon which clearly means there’s something wrong with me, and I’m not sleeping enough or something. I don’t know. It was a strange conversation.”
“Shocker,” Leah said, beginning the process of prepping the sandwiches for the mushrooms. She laid out two onion rolls, placing the cheese, then lettuce, then tomato on the top half of each, leaving the bottom with another layer of provolone. “They know you’re in a committed relationship with your day planner, right? Also, at some point, they’re going to have to give up on Simon, it’s not happening. We’re friends, and he’s too good for me. It’s a thing.”
“Let’s put a pin in that to come back to later,” Abi said, turning off the burner. She couldn’t recall Leah ever saying anything like that about Simon before, so it was odd. Usually, Leah was aggressively self-confident. “All I did was tell mom about how shitty Simcha Hallerman was to Ilan Efrat in the Co-Op, and all of a sudden, they’re staging some kind of intervention about my childhood.”
“Simcha did what?” Leah said, and Abi gave her a quick overview. Leah whistled, “Well that’s absolutely the best way I can think of to get someone to want to bone you.”
“What are you talking about?” Abi said, brow furrowing as she, used the spatula to place equal portions of mushrooms on each of the open sandwich halves.
“Simcha’s always been that way. Come on, you remember Tricia’s bat mitzvah when she hit on that DJ by telling him he probably couldn’t get into a real college like that was something clever to say to a guy,” Leah said, laughing, and Abi resisted the urge to swat her with the spatula. The only thing that saved her was that Leah was wearing a pair of Abi’s favorite leggings, and she didn’t want to have to deal with oil stains on her own clothes. Abi did remember that day. Even as pre-teens they’d all known it was a shitty, elitist thing to say, and looking back, the DJ in question probably hadn’t been much older than they were. She was annoyed with Simcha all over again.
“Why are you like this? I’m not trying to talk about Simcha Hallerman. I’m trying to talk about my hypothetical trauma,” Abi said, turning away from the stove to put the pan and the spatula in the sink for later. She could hear Leah rummaging in cabinets for plates and cutlery.
“Did dad give you the perfect parents can still fuck up their kids speech? He loves that speech,” Leah said, confident as always when it came to analyzing other people. “I think I’ve heard that one once a year since I hit puberty.”
“I think he wanted to, mom kept derailing him by trying to get me to tell her about whatever horrible thing happened to make me so responsible or whatever,” Abi said, immediately knowing it was a mistake. Her sister hooted with laughter.
“I told you: you were going to regret busting your ass to graduate magna cum laude!” Leah ducked away from her sister’s smacking hand, lifting both plates to show now was a bad time to get violent, and turned to walk over to the pub table in the corner. Abi made a frustrated noise as she followed, stopping at the fridge to grab a few bottles to drink.
