The lights blaze on. “Oh my gawd, where have you been?”
I stifle a shriek as my younger sister grabs me by the arm, dragging me inside.
“I’ve been waiting forever for you to get back.” As she takes in my disheveled appearance, Lauren’s perfect nose wrinkles. And I do mean “perfect”—it cost ten thousand dollars, so it better be.
“You wore those shoes to work?” she asks. “Gross. Why are you working so late? Did you bring any food? I drank all your La Croix and I’m starving. Hello, Pepperoni! Did I not say hi to you yet?” She scoops up Pepper and gives the corgi a big kiss.
“Lauren?” The twin bed in the corner sags as I sit down heavily. “I thought… I thought…”
“Ugh. Why do you have to make everything about you? I’m in a crisis here.” My sister flings herself down on the bed next to me and begins to sob.
“How did you even get in here?”
My sister raises her head from the comforter where she’s left a beige, blue, and red smear from her full face of makeup. “I called a locksmith and pretended that I lived here. I don’t think he believed me, but I let him feel me up when I threw myself at him. Don’t worry—I didn’t give him your credit card information or anything. I paid him with the money you had hidden in your nice dress shoes.” She looked pointedly at my feet. “I don’t see why you don’t wear them to the office.”
“You sound like Mom.”
“No, I don’t. Mom has terrible taste.”
“Why are you here and not with your boyfriend?” I focus on my sister’s drama to try calming my pounding heart.
“He left me.” The sobbing recommenced. “He left me for another girl.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know, but she’s younger than I am.”
“I mean, we all told you…”
“You were just jealous because I found a man who would support me and pay my credit cards.”
“He was almost Dad’s age.” I raise my voice over her loud sobs. “You started dating him in high school, and he was the class secretary’s father. What did you expect was going to happen? He clearly only wants barely legal young women.”
“You’re so mean to me.” Lauren’s voice is muffled in the pillow.
Fishing out the last of the donuts, a strawberry with a tart pink glaze that Salinger had squashed earlier that day—well, technically yesterday now—I hand it to her. Then I pour her some water while she nibbles at the pastry.
“See? I clearlydolove you, because otherwise, I would not have given you my emergency donut. You’re not the only one who’s starving.”
Rushing to the freezer, I open it then breathe a sigh of relief when I see the pastitsio there. A second later, my spirits fall. I can’t eat it. I have to bring Salinger extra portions tomorrow then cook some more until he grows tired of it.
I close the freezer.
After sloshing wine into two COFFEE > SEX mugs, I sit down next to my sister on the bed and pet her hair.
“I’m old!” Lauren wails. “I’m almost as old as you. No man is going to want me. We’re going to be old spinsters together.”
“Let’s take three steps back. You’re twenty-six.”
“And soon I’ll be thirty-eight like you.”
“I’m not that old. I’m only thirty-four.”
“Really?” Lauren sniffs. “Because you look like you’re in your forties. You have wrinkles.”
“It’s stress and lack of sleep.”
“You should try having sex.”
