Bailey arrives aswe’re sitting down for breakfast, without forewarning or an invitation. She lets herself in through the front door and is in the hallway before we even realize she’s there.
“Heeeyyy!” she shouts like the Fonz, only a taller, curvier, prettier version. She’s Sheryl’s mini-me and everything I’m not.
I get up from the table and she’s upon me in seconds, dressed for work in a smart black skirt and white cap-sleeve blouse and smelling of ylang-ylang perfume.
“It’s so good to see you!” she cries, squeezing the breath from my lungs with the force of her brief embrace.
“You too,” I reply.
Our father’s smile beams back at me, though his two dimples are currently hidden behind stubble. Her eyes are so big, brown, and gorgeously expressive that she earned the nickname “Boo” when she was younger.
“How was your flight? How areyou?” Bailey asks, sweeping her glossy chestnut-brown locks over one shoulder.
As a teenager, her hair came almost to her waist in wavy curls, but the last time I saw her, she was wearing it at just below jaw-length.
I’ve had the same dead-straight mousy-brown hair all my life. I can’t even call it chestnut or chocolate: it’s pure vermin.
“Good and good,” I reply. “How about you? How’s Casey?” The knot in my stomach is a reminder that I won’t be following her up the aisle anytime soon.
“Great. Hey, I wondered if you’re free for dinner later?”
I glance at Dad and Sheryl.
“Not you,” Bailey says to Dad with a frown, and he freezes, mid-nod. She laughs at his put-out expression. “I want my big sis all to myself. It’s Friday night. I thought we’d go to Dirk’s.”
“I’m guessing Dirk’s is a bar, not a person?” I flash Dad a look to check he’s all right with being excluded, but he’s good-naturedly shrugging at Sheryl.
“Both. Dirk is the owner of Dirk’s the bar. It’s a bit like that bar we went out to last time in Bloomington? Remember that night?”
I do remember. It was five years ago: she was twenty-two and I was twenty-eight and we both got smashed. It was the best night we’d ever had together, the first time I could see possibilities for us not only as siblings, but as friends.
It’s not that we didn’t get on before that, but it was harder when I was a teenager and she was a pesky brat running rings around our dad.
Unfortunately, our last night out together was also the last time we saw each other in person. She moved to the West Coast soon after that.
“I’ll come get you at seven.”
“Is that okay?” I check with Dad, wondering if it will be possible for Bailey and me to pick up where we left off.
I feel a small surge of optimism at the thought, but it’s quickly chased away by doubt. So much has happened in the last five years. So much has happened in the last fivemonths. The simple truth is, I barely know my half sister and she barely knows me.
“Fine by us,” Dad replies. “We’ve got plenty of time to catch up.”
“Don’t know how long I’ll last,” I warn Bailey. “I’ll be jet-lagged.”
If she’s expecting me to be the life and soul of the party, she’ll be sorely disappointed.
“Yeah, yeah,” she brushes me off before checking her watch. “Gotta go! I’m late for work! See ya later.”
“See you.”
With kisses on Dad and Sheryl’s cheeks, Bailey the whirlwind is off.
My half sisterreturns to collect me bang on seven.
“You look great!” she exclaims.
I’m wearing a fitted, knee-length, sleeveless black dress with white beading around a V-cut neckline. It’s the sort of thing I’d opt for at home on a night out, but looking at Bailey, who has changed out of her work clothes into a denim skirt and white T-shirt, I feel overdressed.
