I fluffed out the blanket to cover her swollen feet better. “What do you feel like eating?”
“I don’t know. Pickles. Mangos. Ice cream. Cake,” she said.
“With a list like that, we might be better off getting groceries.” I giggled.
Jen stared at me. Apparently, her cravings weren't amusing.
Mom came downstairs with a load of laundry propped on her hip, wearing the golden earrings Dad had gotten for her birthday, and smiled upon seeing me. “Hey, hon. How was work?”
A pair of underwear slipped from the laundry pile.
I moved to help her, but Mom shooed me away. The garment plopped onto the floor.
My heart raced with the memory of Angel and the thongs from earlier today. It hadn’t been the first time someone supposedly threw theirunderwear at him. At least my ammo wasn’t dirty. Just my thoughts were, occasionally.
I looked away and loosened my coat to relieve the building, uncomfortable heat inside. “Um, work was fine. Do you need anything from the grocery store if I make an order?”
“No. We just went,” Mom said, trying to hook the dirty undies with her foot.
Jen waved the remote. “We’re out of chips.”
Mom frowned. “You ate the whole bag?”
Jen fluffed the blanket, scattering crumbs across the area rug and hardwood floor. “I’m sorry. I’m growing a whole human, and it needs to eat.”
“You have to think of what you’re feeding the baby,” Mom said.
Not to mention gestational diabetes. But one bag of chips wouldn’t do that.
Jen scowled, her eyes glassy with the reflection of the television. “The baby will be fine. No one cares aboutmeormyneeds.”
“Oh, please.” Mom gestured between us with the gathered laundry. “Tori, you went to med school. Can you tell her something?”
“About what?” I squeaked.
“Anything,” she insisted.
What was I supposed to do? Tell my pregnant sister what she could eat? Grab the vacuum? Address the awkwardness with her baby daddy?
“We, um, we love you?” I tried.
“Yes. We do. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be doing your laundry,” Mom said, shaking the dirty undies at her.
“Thanks.” Jen slid deeper into her nest to sulk.
“Rest now, because things are going to change after the baby,” Mom said. “Parenthood means you have to take more responsibility. No more binge-watching shows when you’re supposed to be working remotely. No more mindless scrolling your phone or sad-snacking.”
“No more fun," Jen grumbled.
Not that she was currently having any.
“It shouldn’t bethatbad,” I said. “Sure, you’ll be sleep deprived in the beginning, but I’ve heard it’s kind of like longer rotations at the hospital with one cute, fussy patient, and you can sit down or listen to music whenever.”
“At least you’re all here to help me,” she mumbled into her arm.
“Right.” My throat tightened.
Help. For a while.
