The Pretty One: A Novel About Sisters (27 page)

“What?!” screamed Perri.

“Mom didn’t tell you?” asked Olympia, sitting down at the table. “Wow, that’s a first.”

“Mom told me nothing. Are you serious?” Perri turned to Olympia, her eyes as large as billiard balls.

“Serious as the day is long,” said Olympia.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then, don’t… So moving along to more important matters—what do you want to do about our other sister?”

“Half sister,” said Perri.

“Half sister—fine,” said Olympia, clearly relieved to have moved the topic away from herself.

“That is, if she’s not a complete fraud,” Perri added.

Olympia released a porcine snort. “Honestly, I can’t imagine anyone
wanting
to be a member of this family.”

“Has there even been a DNA test?” asked Perri, ignoring the implied rebuke.

“I could arrange for one,” said Gus. “My office uses this place up in Riverdale. I was actually just on the phone with them yesterday. Actually—” An idea suddenly sprung into Gus’s head that had more to do with Lola Hellinger’s father than with Jennifer Yu’s.

“Actually, what?” said Perri.

“Nothing,” said Gus.

Perri turned to Olympia. “Since you’re the only one who’s met her, how about you ask her if she’d take one?”

“You want
me
to ask her to spit in a cup?” said Olympia, recoiling. “It’s kind of an off-putting way to start a relationship, no?” She took a sip out of her own cup… of water.

“Who says anyone wants to start a relationship?” asked Perri.

“No one’s talking about being best friends with the woman,” said Olympia. “But now that we know she’s out there, I don’t see how any of us can go back to the way things were before—and pretend she doesn’t exist.”

“Well, I’d be perfectly happy with none of us ever making contact with the woman ever again!” said Perri.

“Why? Because you can’t bear not being the oldest sister who’s always right about everything?” Olympia shot back, her jaw jutting.

“Come on, you guys,” said Gus, relieved to find that she was not currently the object of her sisters’ ire, even as she rued the day that she’d ever tattled on one to the other.

“No, because I think this woman has some nerve just showing up like that and upsetting Mom!” said Perri. “What ever happened to writing letters?”

“Well, I think we should check out her creds first,” said Gus. “If her DNA doesn’t pan out, we don’t even need to be having this conversation.”

“I agree,” said Perri.

“Fine with me, too,” said Olympia, shrugging. “I just don’t want to be the one who asks for saliva.”

“She’s a doctor,” said Gus. “I really don’t think she’s going to be squeamish about bodily fluids. But if you can’t deal, I’ll ask.”

“I’d appreciate that,” said Olympia.

“And what if, by chance, her DNA is a match with our father, who I’m also not speaking to until further notice?” asked Perri.

“Then we invite her out to come meet us,” said Gus.

“Oh, Jesus,” said Perri.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” said Olympia. She and Perri separately got up to leave.

That was it?! “Wait!” cried Gus, heartbroken at the thought of them all going their separate ways again. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d expected to happen at the summit—only that their meeting wasn’t supposed to end this soon. “We have other things to talk about.”

“Like what?” asked Olympia, all business as she cleaned her sunglasses with a dishcloth.

Gus felt her eyes filling with tears. “For one thing, I wish we could go back to the time when you guys didn’t hate me—or each other. But that’s a separate matter.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have betrayed my trust,” said Perri.

“Or tattled on me for something I didn’t do,” added Olympia. “Though, to be honest, I’m so exhausted right now that I don’t even have the energy to be mad at you.”

“Too much shopping?” quipped Perri.

“I actually haven’t been shopping in about two months,” Olympia scoffed, clearly offended again. “That bag I was carrying is filled with hand-me-downs for Lola from my friend, Danielle.”

“Well, you couldn’t be any more tired than I am,” said Perri. “Noah woke up at four forty-five this morning.”

“I thought you wake up then anyway.”

“No, I wake up at
five
forty-five.”

Olympia released a long sigh. Then she said, “Perri, do you
even hear yourself? You’re always competing with me over whose life is harder. Honestly, it’s really tedious.”

Seemingly stunned by the accusation, Perri stared silently back at her sister, her mouth ajar. It was so quiet in the kitchen that you could hear the ticktock of Great-Uncle Abe’s old mantelpiece clock in the dining room. Finally, she spoke: “Well, you always act as if I have it so much easier than you because I live in a big house in the suburbs and have a husband. Or used to.” She grimaced.

“I never said you had it easier,” said Olympia, sighing. “Obviously, we all have our challenges.”

“What if we all make the decision to forgive each other and try to get along,” offered Gus.

“Fine with me,” said Olympia.

“Who’s fighting?” said Perri.

There was more silence, interrupted by the distant hum of a leaf blower. Or was it a chain saw? Gus took a deep breath. “I just want to say again that I’m sorry I blabbed to both of you about the other one. A part of me was just sick of all the secrets. We’re sisters. Why do we have to hide so much from each other? I’m not trying to excuse my behavior. Maybe what I did was immature. I’m just telling you where I was coming from. I was also kind of out of my mind with the whole Jeff thing. Which, by the way, is officially over. Anyway”—her voice cracked—“I love you both a lot. And you, not Jennifer Short-last-name, will always be my mean older sisters who I worship and resent.”

Gus thought she saw tears spring into the corners of Perri’s eyes. Or was she projecting through her own?

“Thank you for saying that,” Perri said quietly. “And I’m sorry too—for burdening you with more private information than you could apparently handle. I should have remembered
you were an incorrigible gossip.” She smiled quickly at Gus, then turned to Olympia. “I’m also sorry the whole mess in Larchmont fell on your shoulders.” Pausing, she flared her nostrils and looked away. “Though, to be honest, it’s going to take me a little more time to get over whatever happened between you and Mike. Not that I actually
understand
what happened, but—”

“Pia left the table upset that night,” Gus cut in, determined to make the story go away once and for all. “And Mike said he was going to go upstairs and see if she was okay. That’s all it was.”

Perri looked from one to the other of them, clearly trying to suss out if she was being taken for a ride.

“But I should have kicked him out of the bathroom more quickly than I did,” Olympia muttered, her eyes now in her lap. “I’m sorry for that too. He was clearly missing you, and I was as close to a substitute as he could find.”

“Thank you for saying that. I appreciate it,” said Perri. “I’m glad we cleared the air. Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I have a tennis lesson to attend.” She stood up, again revealing the shortest skirt known to man, and threw her canvas tote over her arm.

So it was a tennis outfit! For Gus, the world was starting to make a little bit of sense again…

At work the next day, Gus tried to put her family drama aside and concentrate on the career that, until further notice, she’d chosen. First, she went to court and asked for a protective order on behalf of a battered woman. Later in the day, she arranged for a shelter to take in another client in need. Then she jumped on a train, went down to Fordham, and gave a lecture about the
landmark Baby M case and its meaning for contract law. Gus had been home for only five minutes, maybe ten, when the bell rang. Assuming it was a restaurant deliveryman (the couple next door ate take-out nearly every night of their lives; then again, so did Gus), Gus bellowed “Wrong bell” into the intercom.

The static was so intense that it was impossible to hear the answer. “Who?” Gus asked again.

This time, the answer was clear: “Debbie.”

Debbie, as in Debbie Medallo, her ex-girlfriend?! What in the world… In the months since she and Gus had broken up, Gus had somehow convinced herself that Debbie had completely forgotten she’d ever existed.

Gus buzzed her up, then walked into the hall to wait for her. She didn’t want Debbie coming into her apartment. That privilege had been revoked the day that Debbie had walked out. Finally, the elevator doors opened, and Debbie stepped out—in an old pair of painter pants and a T-shirt that read,
NAOMI HIT ME
. Despite the advertised slogan, there were no bruises on her face. But there were circles under her eyes. And her cheeks looked sunken—her butt smaller, too. Had she been dieting? “What are you doing here?” asked Gus.

“I need to talk to you,” said Debbie, her hands in her pockets and her mouth downcast.

“What about?” asked Gus.

“Can I come in?”

Gus grimaced before issuing a chilly “Fine.” She pushed open the door to her apartment and stepped aside.

Debbie entered first. Gus followed. The TV was on, but with the mute button pressed. “Please don’t tell me you’re watching
Say Yes to the Dress,
” said Debbie, chuckling wryly.

“Wait, let me get this straight,” said Gus, her outrage building
along with her embarrassment. “You screw me over. Then you show up here, uninvited, to mock my choice in shows?!”

“Sorry,” said Debbie. She sighed heavily. Then she turned back to Gus. “I showed up here to tell you—I’m not okay.”

“Who is?” said Gus, wondering what this was about. Did Debbie need money or something?

“I’m serious,” said Debbie.

“Well, what do you want me to say?”

“Nothing. I don’t want you to say anything.” It was Debbie’s turn to grimace.

Gus was suddenly cognizant of how much she missed having a confidante. “Well, in case you were interested, which you’re probably not, my life sucks right now, too.”

“I am interested,” Debbie said simply.

“That’s a new one.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Well, for one thing,” said Gus, taking Debbie’s declaration at face value, “my sisters are barely speaking to me right now. I’m, like, the family pariah.”

“What did you do to them?” asked Debbie.

It wasn’t the retort that Gus had been expecting, or hoping, to hear. Debbie had never been supportive, Gus thought. Not that it mattered now. “Nothing that concerns you,” she told her.

“At least you have a family,” said Debbie, who’d grown up among distant relatives in Texas after her mother and father had died in a car crash when she was still a toddler.

“More than I ever wanted,” said Gus. “A week ago, I also found out there’s a fourth Hellinger sister—thanks to my father’s philandering in the late nineteen sixties.” Why couldn’t she ever keep her mouth shut?

Debbie seemed strangely unimpressed. “Huh—weird. But
I guess, from where I’m sitting, the more family, the merrier,” she said, shrugging.

Gus was suddenly reminded of Debbie and her girlfriend’s rumored plans to adopt. “Speaking of families, I heard you and your special friend were about to make your own beautiful lesbian one,” she said, her voice slathered in sarcasm.

Debbie looked at her shoes. “Maggie and I broke up.”

So she’d come to Gus for sympathy? “Bummer,” Gus said blithely. “So what happens now? You have to ship the baby back to Myanmar?” She knew it was a tasteless thing to say. But then, after all the heartache that Debbie had caused her, didn’t she deserve to be ridiculed?

It was Debbie’s turn to be offended. She narrowed her eyes and set her jaw. “We hadn’t even gotten the baby yet. And that’s not how it works, and you know it. Also, it was Mongolia.”

“Well, I don’t know much about adoption,” offered Gus.

“You just teach classes on the legal ramifications,” Debbie shot back. There was silence. Outside, a car alarm moaned like a sick dog. Finally, Debbie blurted out, “Look, I’m here because I want to get back together. Okay?”

“You want to
what?!
” said Gus, not sure if she was hearing correctly.

“Get back together.”

Gus wasn’t buying it. “Because you can’t bear to be alone for a single day?”

“Because I miss you.” Debbie paused, hung her head. “It was only ever a sex thing with Maggie. We never got close—not like you and I got close.” She looked up again, met Gus’s eyes.

Excitement and jealousy, outrage and disbelief, swirled around in Gus’s head. “You mean, you miss fighting?” she said.

“That’s not the relationship I remember,” said Debbie.

“Well, which relationship do you remember?” Until just then, Gus hadn’t realized how hurt and furious she still was. The thought flashed through her brain that her entire affair with Jeff Sims had simply been an attempt to seek vengeance on Debbie.

“The one where we were snuggling on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn,” mumbled Debbie, “watching women-in-prison movies.”

“Except you didn’t love me, never have,” said Gus, her heart now pounding. “But that’s just a minor matter. Right?”

Debbie visibly swallowed. Then she looked at the wall. “It was never that. You just put so much pressure on the whole topic.”

“So it was all my fault,” Gus said defiantly. But inside she cringed at an image of herself badgering Debbie, demanding yes or no answers to questions that were more complicated than that. Debbie was right about that part at least, she thought: Gus had a way of harping on things until they turned toxic. Well, in the past few months, she’d taken the opposite approach, taken more steps backward than she could count. She wasn’t even sure if she was a lesbian, anymore!

“Not all your fault,” said Debbie. “We just got into a bad rut. The more you asked for, the more I withdrew.”

“And what’s going to prevent you from withdrawing again?” asked Gus.

“Maybe we can both try harder to keep the channels of communication open and not play on each other’s weaknesses. You know I need my space. And I know you can get insecure.”

“I see,” said Gus, recoiling at the description of herself, however accurate it was.