The Sister Ch. 04

The time between dropping Ivy off and the next morning was a bit of a haze, and the next morning, I awoke slowly, and blamed someone sneaking some pot into the show for last night's mental fuzziness. I rolled upright and padded into the kitchen to start the coffee maker. I retrieved the Wall Street Journal from my doorstep, and sat on my chair reading the paper listening to the pot gurgle and hiss.

My first two cups of coffee scoured the morning breath from my mouth and woke me up the rest of the way. I finished the paper and tossed it in the newspaper recycling collection box, which needed to be emptied into the apartment building's communal recycling bin... but why do now that you can put off 'till tomorrow?

Instead, I threw some shorts on, grabbed my keys and padded out to the mailbox, running into Jennifer, my next door neighbor coming back from her morning run, dressed as usual in a white sports bra, skimpy red-checkered gym shorts, and battered grey sneakers all soaked in morning sweat. Her hair, tied back in a tight ponytail flowing out of the back of her cap, bobbed as she jogged the last twenty yards and skid to a stop a few feet away as I leafed through the mail, which was not surprisingly filled almost entirely with junk mail.

Jennifer and I were often confused as a couple, since we hung out together often, usually when she needed a shoulder to cry/gnaw on when the current boyfriend of the fiscal quarter didn't work out. There was a certain parallel irony in our situations that I found amusing in a way.

We'd watch some movies, get drunk, and I'd patiently listen to her alternatively rant and weep about the last one, she'd drink until she passed out, I'd hold her hair back when she needed to puke, and the next morning she'd look like death warmed over, but better, and in a few months I'd hear about the wonderful guy she just met, and the cycle would begin over again.

And it's a wonder why people accuse me of being a cynic.

"Hey," she called, "I gotta problem with the internet, could you come by and fix it later?"

"Sure," I said crumpling a flier for a new Chinese place and tossing it over my shoulder, "When's it good for you?"

"Right now?"

"Sure." I said and followed her back to her apartment, guiltily watching her backside as she walked.

She pointed at her computer, and told me what happened, after about fifteen minutes I found it was her cable modem's fault and told her to run to Best Buy and get a new one. She thanked me and pushed me out so she could get a shower before work.

I walked back to my apartment, ran all the junk mail through the shredder and tossed the bills onto the table before the phone rang. I checked the caller ID before picking it up, "Yo."

"Yo yourself. How's it going?" Owen asked.

"Just fixed Jennifer's internet."

"The runner with the tight ass?"

"Yep."

"You bang her?"

"No!" I spluttered.

"You should, girl like that, get that clog outta your system."

"She's just a friend."

"I didn't say marry her, I said fuck like bunnies."

"It's not going to happen, except in your fantasies. And if they involve me in any way, all I can say is that you need therapy. Which I already knew."

"What's wrong with her? Nice hard body, probably enough sex drive to jump-start a star destroyer. So I'm telling you, Luke, use the force."

"You called me for a reason?" I asked tartly.

"Sure, fine, a friend is trying to help you out..."

"I've been doing good so far."

"Whatever you have to say to get up in the morning."

"Ha. Ha." I said dryly.

"Actually, can I ask a favor?"

"No."

"Pleeeeeeeeeease?" Owen pleaded.

"No! The last favor was borrowing my car, and you had sex in it, and it reeked for days!"

"This doesn't involve sex..." Owen paused, "mainly." He qualified.

"No." I said adamantly.

"It's about a party--"

"--Lalalala, I'm not listening!--" I said rather petulantly.

"--and Ivy's going."

I paused. "So?" I asked cautiously.

"So I want you to go with her."

I sat down and started flipping though the bills, "I'm touched. Really. But I'm busy."

"It's tonight."

"Nuh-uh. Busy."

"Doing what?"

"...stuff." I replied lamely.

"I want you to go with her, I don't want fuckface touching her, okay?"

"And fuckface is...?"

"Roger, Robert, Ronald... Fuck, I can't remember his name. Her boyfriend, fuckface."

"Okay, you want me to go with her to keep the cylon away. Why don't you go?"

"Because it's a school thing, and I don't want to be around those rug rats." Owen retorted. "And, uh, also she kinda doesn't want my help."

I paused and massaged the bridge of my nose. I felt an incipient headache coming on.

"I'll do something really nice for you. I'll, uh, I'll feed you! With food!"

"Oh, not like the last time then." I said sardonically.

"Pleeeease! I'm begging you! Look, pick her up, go there, make sure she's safe, take her back. That's all you need to do. In and out in less than four hours. I'll even pay you, uh, ten whole bucks and hour."

"Thirty."

"What? Fifteen, I'm poor!"

"Twenty five. Hazard pay."

"Twenty, and I feed you for free."

"Done."

"Done."

"So what's the party?"

"Well, there's the catch, it's some kinda theme costume party. At a friend's house. Big party, non-supervised."

"You like doing this, don't you?" I accused him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Owen said, his voice absolutely dripping innocence.

"Yeah, sure." I sighed, "What's the theme?"

"Historical."

"Historical? What the fuck does that mean?"

"As in 'involving with history'; dress up as a cowboy or something."

"And I'm supposed to take her out? Does she know about this?"

"Ah, not quite."

"Better and better."

"She'll kill me if she knows, so you're going to have to keep this a secret."

"Soo... what does that mean?"

"You're going to have to lie to her. A little. Pretend it's a date."

"Oh no. Nonononono! I'm sorry, but you can keep your money, I'm not asking her out."

"What's the problem, you seemed to get along well enough with her last night!"

"If I ask her out, I've asked her out."

"Not following you, come back from the island of misfit toys and join the rest of the frolicking reindeer."

"Look, if I asked her out, she thinks I've asked her, y'know, out."

"And why is that a problem?"

"Because I've asked her out."

I could hear Owen sigh over the phone, "I'm asking you as a friend, perhaps the bestest friend you've ever had, to help me help her. She's young, stubborn, and defenseless. And you won't help me help her by keeping her safe because you might have to lie a little?"

"I, uh, you're evil, you know that?"

"Good and evil, they're just words people use interchangeably. The power of money and free food compels you! The power of money and free food compels you!"

"Yeah, sure. Okay, I'll do this. But this food better be spectacular."

"It will! I promise!"

"Not like last time, when you tried to burn down my apartment."

"It was only a little grease fire. Man, make one little mistake and people remember it forever. That's gratitude for you."

"So how are we going to do this? You hang up, I call back, or what?"

"Nah, got it covered. She already thinks you're going."

I felt my blood pressure spike; it was high school all over again.

"She's delighted, by the way."

"That a sure sign she doesn't know me."

"I know! Isn't it cute when they have their illusions? Don't ruin them."

"What?"

"Don't be you, okay? Pretend for four hours that you're someone else... that has class. Talk nice, play nice, and no disintegrations."

"Yes, mom."

I heard Ivy talking in the background, "No breaking her heart too. You break her heart, I break your face."

"Ugh. I'm Bond, and you're the villain."

"I don't expect you to talk, Mr. Bond--"

"--I expect you to die! Yeah, okay."

"Oh, Ivy wants to talk to you."

"What for?"

"Coordinating costumes."

"Oi."

"Yeah, I know. Here she is--"

"Hey, how's it going?" Ivy chirped.

"Fixed Jennifer's computer this morning."

"She broke up with that asshole?"

"Um, yes. Last week. We watched Big Trouble in Little China, and ate a gallon of Rocky Road ice cream together."

"I hope she finds someone less burdened with the asshole gene."

"Owen suggested I should step up." I said casually, glancing at the electric bill.

"Oh yeah? Well Owen doesn't know what the hell he's talking about. Jennifer needs you to be a good friend; maybe she'll learn from you that she needs someone that's not a complete asshole, like the last... dozen."

"She'll learn by osmosis? Hasn't worked so far."

"She'll come around. It sometimes takes a while. So, what are you wearing?"

"I, uh, what?" I spluttered, flustered.

"For the party, your costume?" Ivy explained patiently.

"I dunno."

"Well, with that thing you could be a samurai."

"What thing?"

"The sword."

"Oh. You want me to be a samurai?"

"And I'll be a geisha."

"I'll be a samurai, and you'll be a geisha?"

"We'll win for sure!"

"Win?"

"Didn't Owen tell you?"

"No...?"

"There's a prize if you win the contest."

"What contest?!"

"The costume contest!"

"Oh. Kay. So, how are we going to get there?"

"How's your car?"

"Working."

"That's reassuring."

"You did ask."

Ivy sighed, "How about we take your car?"

"No, gotta take it in today."

"Oh, then how about I grab my stuff later, grab Owen's car and I'll follow you to the mechanics and give you a ride back?"

"Um, sure. That sounds fine."

"Good, I'll be there in an hour, 'bye!" and the phone clicked.

"Wait!" I said uselessly to the dial tone, and hung up.

Jesus jumping Christ on a pogo stick. I had simple needs, really, and every time my life evened out, something happens to needlessly complicate it. Again. I growled ineffectually to the empty apartment and poured myself another cup of coffee.

Samurai. I didn't have the right clothes or equipment to be a samurai, but I could be a ronin in a pinch. I sipped my cup and wrote down some odds and ends I needed to buy to complete the costume. First on the list was weather or not I should actually bring a weapon to a party. Sure, the nodachi was a weapon that was used by a samurai, but it was also nearly six feet of razor sharp steel, and I was leery to take it out in public. After all, the last time I pulled it was not to practice, but to assault someone. Sure, he deserved it, but it bothered me that I had nearly killed the guy in the first place.

Since I couldn't find a replacement in time, I decided to take it, and tie it close with a wax seal. Probably no one would understand with it meant, but it was era-accurate at the very least. And then it hit me. I would be at a party filled with a great many other men and women Ivy's age. Boys and girls, I should say. Unsupervised. Gah. This was like out of my worst nightmare. I better make the knots strong; I might want to hit people with it after an hour. I predicted by the end of the "party" that I would have almost hit at least two people, and fantasized about hitting at least five more.

A knock at my door stopped my ruminating; I opened it to see Jennifer red eyed, and sniffing, her hair hanging in damp tendrils, dressed in a loose shirt and shorts, her arms hugging herself tightly, and bouncing from foot to foot on my door mat.

"Jennifer? What happened?"

"I think I'm pregnant."

"Um. Oh." I said, and my brain suddenly vapor locked.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure." I said and stepped aside. She had barely walked in when she spun and grabbed me roughly and hugged me tightly, sobbing into my chest. Taken by surprise, I froze, but after a moment I simply held her, patting her head gently, and whispering soothingly into her ear.

Time passed, minutes, maybe a quarter of an hour, before she sniffed once, and hiccupped. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to crack up so badly."

"It's okay, it happens. Take a seat. Tea? Coffee?"

"No." She said sleepily.

"That took a lot out of you."

"I'm so terrified I just want to die."

"Hmm." I said unhelpfully, unsure how to handle it. "Well, I don't want you to."

"Die?"

"Both. Do you have anyone female to talk to about this? I might not be the best person to do this to, since I'm male and all."

"You're a friend. And you're here."

"Works for me. Cookie?" I said holding out box of milano's for when she came over.

"You spoil me."

"Eh, only when you come over."

"I should find a guy like you."

"I, uh, thank you?" I said, bringing my cup of coffee over. "How did you find out?"

"I took a pregnancy test today. It came up positive."

"What about a doctor?"

"You mean an abortion?" she whispered fearfully.

"No, I mean have them run a test, too. I sure they're more accurate."

"What if it says the same thing? What if I'm pregnant?"

"I assume that Chad was the father?" I asked, and Jennifer nodded, "and I assume that Chad would not be entering the picture again?"

"Fuck no."

"Well, I dunno, honestly. I've never had to think about having a baby."

"Neither have I, really." She sniffed.

"I'll decline to ask for the details. Here," I said, handing her the Kleenex and the phone, "Call the doctor and set up an appointment, then call this number," I said, scribbling a number on a scratch pad I kept on the table, and handing it to her, "Tell the woman your name, and then tell her that I'm calling in one. She'll help you."

"Who is she?"

"A general therapist. Don't look at me like that, I'm not sending you to De Sade, I just want you to talk to someone who has a uterus, and has had a kid, both of which I don't and can't. I'm sorry, but I can hold your hand, but I can't help you any other way." I apologized.

"But you have. All the time."

I smiled, "That's what being a friend is about. You accept, and you help. Occasionally you see some bad movies, and eat a bucket of ice cream."

Jennifer took the phone and stood, "I'll need some privacy."

"Bedroom." I said jerking a thumb to the door.

"Thanks. You'll make someone a good boyfriend someday."

"Thanks." I said, barely preventing me from rolling my eyes. I'd heard that one before. True, I was used to hearing it said with outright sarcasm, but after a point, I thought of it as a polite noise one says, like please or thank you, whether you mean it or not.

But I'm not bitter.

As soon as Jennifer was in the bedroom, Ivy popped thought the doorway, bent over and dragging her weight in bags like a mule.

"What in the world is this?" I asked, Jennifer temporarily forgotten.

"All the things I need." Ivy said simply, closing the door.

"To cross the alps on foot?"

"No, to dress up. Clothing, props, makeup, medicine."

"Medicine?"

"In case something happens."

"Nothing's going to happen."

"You're sweet, but you never know." Ivy said, dropping the bags, "Milano cookies? I love these! Can I have some?"

"Sure." I said, looking at the bags. It looked like she was moving in.

Jennifer walked out of the bedroom, handing me the phone. "I have an appointment tomorrow."

"Do you need some help? A ride there? A shoulder to gnaw on?" I offered.

Jennifer smiled at me, "I'd like that. What's with the bags?"

"He's taking me to a costume party tonight." Ivy said, munching on a cookie.

"Sounds like fun." Jennifer said politely. I could only fake a smile.

"I'm going as a geisha." Ivy said proudly

"A hooker?" Jennifer asked hesitantly.

"Companion, really. Sings, dances, tells stories and jokes. Sex may or may not have been part of the bargain." I explained.

"So what will you be?"

"A ronin; a masterless samurai, usually a common bandit, riff-raff, and dregs of society. The parallels are obvious." I said haughtily

"You'll always be my knight." Jennifer said, and hugged me.

"Just call me señor Quixote." I said into her ear, and was rewarded with a wan chuckle.

Ivy stifled a smile by eating another cookie.

Jennifer let go and stepped away, running her hands through her hair, "Look at me, I'm a mess and late for work." Jennifer said, in a more normal tone of voice. "I've gotta go get cleaned up." She said briskly, moving to the door.

"I'll be here if you need it."

"Thanks." Jennifer said, and closed the door behind her.

"What happened?"

"Something she wasn't expecting." I said and glanced at a clock, "Crap, I have to get to the mechanic, or they'll never be able to look at it."

"Goin' to the bathroom first." Ivy said, walking to the bedroom.

"Okay." I said, throwing a shirt on, and pocketing my keys.

I dropped off the car after carefully explained the problem to the mechanic, and had Ivy drive me around town getting the last few items I needed. We had a light lunch at a bistro, she ate some sort of leafy rabbit food, and I munched on slices of watermelon, idly watching the people outside.

On the way back to the car, Ivy made a detour, giggling as we wandered into an arcade and drifted from machine to machine. Some had one kid frantically hammering buttons, some with small crowds around a player or two. I sighed over a handful of old machines in disrepair I remember dumping quarters in when I was younger; we applauded at the coordination of the dancers on the dance machine; and we ended up standing by an unoccupied fighting game.

"Let's play this!" Ivy said, fumbling in her purse for change.

"Do we have time?" I asked checking my watch.

"We have hours and hours, c'mon, afraid to get your ass handed to you by a girl?"

"No, I'm afraid that I might make you cry when I beat you. And the one thing I can't stand is little girls crying."

"You talk tough, but can you put your money where your mouth is?"

"Oh? Are you suggesting a bet?"

"Yes I am."

"What would be the stakes of this bet?"

"How about something in the future? Like if I needed you to do something for me, you couldn't refuse."

"You aren't thinking of making me do something gross."

"No, but if you win, you get the same thing."

"Good," I said, fishing quarters out of my pocket with an evil smile.

"Don't count your chickens before they're hatched." She said, putting her purse on the console, away from the controls and stretching her fingers.

A win for her, a win for me, one tie, and one win for her and I stood, mouth agape at the screen as her character with the barest slivers of life pranced around, and so did she, laughing and prancing.

"Unfair! The hit detection was off, I want a re-match!"

"You promised." She said, now almost on the verge of tears.

I looked at her and swore. Her lower lip trembled, and I swore some more before I bit out, "Yes, I did."

Like a switch had been thrown, she was suddenly holding my hand and leading me out, laughing and prancing. I don't make any claim to understand myself, so I'll not even attempt to try to understand her.

We window-shopped for a bit, she blushed when we passed Victoria's Secret, but I only grinned at the manikins dressed up, slowing to take the craftsmanship in, only to have Ivy pull me along. We stopped at a small Thai food vendor and shared a box of noodles, gasping and fanning our mouths when the heat got too much.

We were oddly quiet when we headed back, with only the radio to break the silence. Once I closed the door, Ivy started sifting through her bags hunting for something as I dumped out my bag and started sorting out the stuff.

"I saw you look at the lingerie, do you like that sort of thing?" Ivy asked, talking to a bag she was digging through.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean do you... like that sort of thing?"

"You mean do I find it sexually arousing?"

"Yes."

I blew out a whistle and stared at the ceiling. How to put this without causing more trouble... "Yes and no. I like seeing it on someone, but I have to like looking at that person first."