The Sister Ch. 05

"What, hung over?" I wondered as I applied too much pressure to the mustard bottle and the top came off explosively, splattering mustard on my chest and the countertop. I swore and reached for the paper towels.

"Vulnerable."

I tossed the paper towel and paused mid-reach for another one, "Huh?"

"I've never seen you clumsy, or weak, or anything." Jennifer said, handing me the roll, Her eyes downcast, she said quietly, "It's usually been me that was stumbling."

I snorted, uncomfortable, "Surprised I'm actually human? Trust me, I have bad days too."

"But I never hear about them! You know everything about me, and I know nothing about you." Jennifer pointed out.

I tossed the other paper towel away and sniffed. Great, I eau d' mustard cologne. Classy. I smiled weakly at her and picked up another sandwich and took a bite, speaking around the food, I corrected, "Oh but you do, I love ice cream, sob stories, and cheesy movies. What else is there to know?"

"Well, did you ever want to take advantage of me?"

I choked on my sandwich, and found myself bent over the sink, coughing up aspirated mustard and pastrami before I strangled on it. "What?!" I croaked.

"You must have thought about it once or twice."

"No!" I croaked grabbing for the coffee and downing it in one gulp, "Never!" And just what in the hell prompted this question?! "Remember when you get drunk, you get goofy and you don't remember it? At most, I just wanted to videotape you, as proof. I don't think I'll forget plastic-bag-woman and her ice cream scoop of justice."

Jennifer blushed, "I didn't!"

"You did. Got down to your underwear, wore a plastic bag as a hat, posed like Conan before proceeding to 'defeat the minions of the Dread Lord Chocula by consuming the frozen elixir of evil with your scoop of justice'."

"I... don't remember that."

"You'd poke me with the scoop when I started chuckling. Quite seriously, I might add."

"I don't drink often."

"Oh, I think you've drunk enough when you're nearly naked and stabbing the ice cream with a ice cream scoop. Or dancing around the room with a bag on your head, waving the scoop around and trying to get me to call you Mistress Scoops-a-lot, and for me to bow to your bag of office."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. Very memorable night."

"So you never wanted to take advantage of me?"

"Why in the world would I want to take advantage of you?" I asked, and gulped another cup of coffee, "And why ask the question? If I'm an evil guy, I'm going to lie to you and say I'm not. If I'm good, I'm going to tell you the truth, and tell you I'm not." I drained the last cup of coffee and flicked the coffee maker off. "Not to mess with your head or anything."

Jennifer paused as I washed the cup out. "You just seemed..." She said quietly.

"Seemed what?" I said, slightly irritated.

"Too good to be true."

I paused, unsure how to respond. I snorted and hook my head, "Don't sell yourself short, or me long, there's plenty you don't know about me." I said and started dropping bottles into the trash. Over the clatter I thought I heard Jennifer say something about being willing to find out, but I doubted I heard it right, and in any case, I doubted she meant it, so I let it go as I tossed the used coffee grounds into the trash.

Jennifer checked her watch, "You done?"

I gulped the last of the sandwich and burped. "Yeah, let's go."

"You maybe want to get dressed more? Maybe a shirt?"

I looked down, "Oh. Hold on a sec." I said, rolling my eyes at my own forgetfulness. I ducked back into the bedroom, snagged the first shirt I saw, and pulled it on, and grabbed the leather jacket.

"Uh, I uh, forgot that I don't have a car, it's down at the mechanics. Do you mind riding on the bike?"

"Sure, why would you ask?"

"Politeness, and, um, not to hurt the theoretical baby."

Jennifer rolled her eyes, "Don't worry, I'll be fine. You safe to drive?"

"Oh, I'm fine, just a little sick."

"What about the vodka?"

"For tonight."

"Going to get hammered again?"

"Yeah." I grunted, and Jennifer frowned. "I plan to spend at least a week either going into or coming out of a drunken stupor. It's been a year, I think I've earned it." I explained.

Jennifer merely looked at me contemplatively for a minute, staring into my eyes emotionlessly, and I expected her to say something, but instead she just picked up my helmet and handed it to me. "Shall we go?" Jennifer asked, opening the door.

"Right." I said, pulling the brain bucket on. As it settled onto my head I winced internally at the sour smell of an unwashed helmet liner. Oh, right, I was going to get around to washing it sometime this week. And again I made a note to wash it when I got back... and I'd probably forget about it by the time I got back. Every year I get older and more senile. Soon I'll be like my Uncle, wandering around the backyard in his underwear, carrying an empty shotgun, hunting elephants in the great African plains of suburbia.

The drive was rather boring, thankfully. I kept to the back roads, driving through sleepy neighborhoods, which took a lot longer, but I didn't want to test my hungover reflexes when there was someone else on the bike that could get a terminal case of road crayon in addition my dumb ass for driving while hung over in the first place. If Jennifer noticed, she didn't say anything.

I squeaked to a stop outside a small brick house converted to a doctor's office, making a note to check the brakes again as we walked inside. As Jennifer signed in, I grabbed myself a seat and looked around, but was unsurprised to find it was depressingly similar to every other waiting room I've been in; a small dusting of people, muted neutral color paint, a low table, a handful of colored blocks for children, two rows of cheap and easily replaceable chairs facing each other and a mound of magazines filled with such inane information I wondered if they were there as cheap anesthesia (certainly anyone reading them would be brain dead in a few minutes).

I shook my head disdainfully and looked up at the ceiling. If I had rubbed two brain cells together earlier, I would have brought something to read, but I didn't, so I prepared myself to be dreadfully bored for a while.

"This article's interesting." Jennifer chirped beside me, looking over an issue of Cosmopolitan at me, "As a male, is it true that the hairstyle will drive you wild?"

I looked at her levelly for a long moment before I snorted, "A hairstyle that can drive me wild? Oh, heaven forbid one should be an interesting person, for males are far more shallow than that."

"Oh, I don't know, the first thing most men think when they see me is not my what my favorite authors are, but if these are natural, and what they look like naked." She said, waving the magazine at her breasts.

I glanced once, and then grinned at her, "Well, they are very nice."

She swatted me with the magazine, "So why don't you have a relationship?"

"Oh god, not you too!" I groaned and slumped in the chair.

Jennifer smile turned into a Cheshire grin, "Oh, who else has been asking?"

I put up my hand, and ticked off the people on my fingers, "Owen, Ivy, my mother, you, umm... other people. Why in the world does suddenly everyone in the world want to know about my sex life?"

"Wait, you have a sex life? Since when?"

"Oi." I grunted, giving Jennifer a dirty look.

"Ivy was the girl from yesterday, right?"

"Yeah, she's Owen's little sister."

"She's the one pounding on your door, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, why suddenly so distant? There's nothing that... happened." Jennifer paused and let the word hang for a moment, full of naughty promise. "Right?"

"Right. Nothing happened." I said brusquely trying to suddenly absorbed in a magazine cover.

"You are such a horrible liar. But if you aren't comfortable telling me what really happened, then I won't push you. Much."

"Thank you." I muttered sourly as the door into the office clicked open and a nurse stepped out.

"Miss Azertlani?" The nurse called quietly.

"That's me." Jennifer said, standing.

"Good luck."

"Yeah." Jennifer said soberly. I watched her walk through the door, and watched the door swing shut with a click. She didn't look back once.

I thought it a wretched sort of irony that she was worried about being pregnant, when I'm sure there were people all over this world worried if they weren't yet pregnant. Perhaps it was the right gift at the wrong time? Would she later find someone to grow old together and maybe raise a bushel of kids on the side? I certainly didn't know. Hell, I didn't even know if I was going to find someone -- and I certainly wasn't looking.

Which reminded me of Ivy, and the cylon, and the guy she had her eye on. I grimaced, and sighed. After last night I wanted just some peace and quiet, alone with my vodka for the rest of the week. Was there some kind of planetary alignment that was forcing all these relationships to fall apart so horrifically badly at around the same time? It made me kinda glad I didn't have a relationship of my own; she'd probably leave me and become a nun. Or a lesbian. Or a lesbian nun. Are there lesbian nuns in real life? I could only assume so.

Maybe I should shave my head and become a monk -- then I wouldn't have any women problems. No more crazy women, no more awkward first dates, no more awkward encounters with parents, no more backbiting female friends of hers, no more lewd comments from mine, no more sex (not that I've been having much lately anyway), no more cuddling on the bed watching a move, no more lulled to sleep by her breathing, no more everything. Instead, I'll become one of those wire-fu monks that can shatter steel with his fist, and fly from tree to tree with my super awesome kung-fu grip, and then wander the earth like Quai-chang Kane.

And the blood froze in my veins when my emergency cell phone hummed quietly as it vibrated in my pocket. Which felt a little nice, actually, but my hands still shot into pants for the phone.

"Hello?" I almost squeaked, fearing the worst. There was almost an instant betting pool in my mind, as I tried to imagine how horrible the emergency was. The top spot vacillated between a really bad car accident, and heart failure.

"Hey, it's me, Ivy."

My brain froze and recomputed, but her voice wasn't over-controlled or panicky, so I wondered what emergency she could have to tell me that would leave her sounding, well, relieved. When the nurse behind the registration desk, and a old couple on the other side of the waiting room gave me a dirty look, I smiled wanly at them before turning towards the corner and hissing into the phone, "How did you get this number?!"

"Asked Owen, anyway, I wanted to talk about what happened last night."

"There was a fight, I left. There's nothing to talk about!"

"You nearly killed Ronnie!" She whined.

"Uh-huh."

"He said he was going to apologize!"

I suppressed the urge to snarl, but instead said calmly, "Look, Ivy, this is my emergency phone, and it's for actual emergencies! This isn't an emergency, so we'll talk about this when I get back, okay?"

"No! I--" Ivy started to splutter before I snapped the phone close, feeling annoyed that she has burned some minutes for minutia.

The phone hummed again in my hand almost immediately, "This is an emergency!" Ivy yelled as soon as I answered it.

"Are you dying? Are you hemorrhaging? Then no, this is not an emergency! Clear the phone, I'll talk to you later!" I barked and snapped the phone shut. I looked up just in time for the old couple to give me another dirty look, and the phone almost immediately hummed to life again. I swallowed what I was going to say, casting a beseeching look skywards, before in a very over-controlled way, gently opening the phone and putting it to my ear, murmuring too-calmly, "Hello?"

"Hey, bro, how's it going?"

I had a hard time switching gears. Here I was, all ready to verbally flame Ivy to a crisp for calling again, and instead Helen, my half-sorta sister is whispering throatily into my ear. I wish I had a stress ball right then, I just needed to vent. Instead, I answered quietly, "Hey, Hel, how's tricks? Throat sore?"

"Hel-len, use your words like a big boy now. I picked up what's going around from one of my little snotlings, may he or she drown in his or her own mucus." She tried to chuckle, but it dissolved into a coughing spasm.

I held my ear away from the phone, "Ew, cover your mouth or we're both going to catch it."

"Germs aren't transmitted by phone, dumbass."

"I don't know -- I feel a little sick already."

"Nothing a relaxing afternoon of electro-shock wouldn't solve."

"Ha. Ha. Are we just going to stand here and sharpen each other's wit on each other, or is there a reason you called?"

"Oh, yes." She paused to cough again, and I jerked the phone away from my ear, "I'm to tell you there's going to be a clan meeting in three days. Reunion, wedding party, and other stuff all rolled into one family filled four-day politicking orgy of people you'd rather not be around."

"Who's getting married now?"

"Athena."

"Uncle Bill's daughter? Scrawny, pimple covered, huge braces, and hair like a hay bale?"

"Maybe eight years ago, she's rather cute now. Grabbed herself a doctor."

"Eight years? Has it been that long?"

"You do avoid family rather well. All those invitations that went unanswered, all those phone messages unreturned."

"Doctor of liberal arts?" I asked hopefully.

"Veterinary medicine."

Shucks. "Good for her. Send her my best wishes when you're there." I said briskly, about to snap the phone close.

"Oh no. You are going to show up mister, come hell or high water!" Helen growled at me.

"But I'm busy! I can't possibly make it." I lied easily.

Helen sighed, which ended with a faint gurgle, "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but your mum (and dad) want you to come. They're waiting for your answer when I hang up, okay? They said it's really important."

"Look, I'll... I'll think about it. No promises. I'm at the doctors; I have to cut this short."

"Doctors? What did you do?!"

"I'm here for a pregnancy test." I said with a smirk and flicked the phone shut, thinking myself clever. That should give her an afternoon of light entertainment as she tried to explain that particular absurdity to someone else.

Jennifer was escorted out by the same nurse that led her in, and while Jennifer almost zombie shuffled towards me, the nurse looked exactly the same -- a sheaf of manilla folders clutched to her chest, neon green half-glasses perched on her nose, cool brown eyes scanning the room as she called out the next name in the queue.

I stood and held out my hand for Jennifer, to help her to a seat, which she stared blankly at. The elderly couple shuffled towards the nurse who beamed at them and held open the door as they walked up. I felt a little, well, exposed standing there, holding my hand out, fearing that a single scrap of motive protein had just wrecked her entire life as she just stared blankly at my hand, somehow smaller than she was this morning.

The door closed with a solid click, and with a sniff, she pushed my hand aside and threw herself at my chest, her hands sliding under the jacket and wrapping around my torso tightly, grabbing two handfuls of shirt and skin and pressing her face hard into my breastbone. My breath whooshed out and I froze for a moment, fighting dojo reflexes from assuming she was trying to grapple me to the ground and reacting appropriately, or just reflexively shying away from the contact by pushing her away. But, as I thought about it, she'd probably take two handfuls of my flesh with her if I did somehow manage to pull her off of me.

As I struggled to remain still, I stared at the crown of her head and marveled at the fine strands of hair glittering and twinkling like lengths of gems in the fluorescent light. Sometimes bad things happen to good people; it's the rule of the universe, and it happened to a lot of people. People called it Karma, Murphy's Law, a sign from God, bad luck, what have you, and I supposed it was just a statistical convergence of low probability stuff happening at roughly the same time. But this wasn't a comforting thing to say to someone whose life's been dumped into a celestial blender set to frappe.

I knew without a doubt that this, of all times, should have been the time for her father, or brother, or mother, or her husband to comfort her, but only it was only me here. Damn the man for doing this to her, and damn the man for not being here! I bellowed in my own head. I might not be the right person to comfort her, but I'm here right now, and she needed someone. So I did the only thing I could do; I gently folded my arms around her, one arm around her trembling shoulders, one hand stroking her head, as I whispered uselessly into her ear as my shirt grew damp between us, "There, there."

It was a time that I stood there, her arms clutching me almost painfully tight as I held her as if she was going to shatter at any moment. She wept silently into my chest for a time as I crooned soft words into her ear and stroked her hair like a frightened animal, before she relented and led me outside

We dove home slowly in silence, and I was at times curious and dreading any answer she could give me if I screwed up my courage to ask. She seemed lost in her thoughts, and I was certainly lost in mine. When I parked and shut off the bike Jennifer asked in the sudden silence, "Do you have any ice cream left?"

I smiled easily, "Half a gallon, vanilla bean."

"And a horrible movie?"

"How about a Japanese sci-fi movie marathon? Only the best Japanese sci-fi from the 50's, 60's, and 70's."

"Sounds good to me." Jennifer said quietly and stepped off.

"You'll like the first one, it's called 'Prince of Space'." I said, following her. If a half-gallon of ice cream and a few schlocky movies were what she needed, then she would most certainly have it.

When we got into the apartment, I made a beeline for the bathroom to wash off the smell of mustard and change into a different t-shirt. When I walked into the kitchen to start another pot of coffee going, Jennifer was coming back through the front door with a small bag over her shoulder.

"Sorry, the handle thing for the bathtub water spigot thing in mine is broken, mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Sure, have at it." I gestured her forward with a flourish. "Do you want anything to eat? Pizza, Chinese, Mexican, Italian, Japanese?"

"Give me a minute to think about it." She said and closed the bathroom door.

In the mean time, I heated some leftovers to tide me over, cycled the vodka again, lay back in bed, shuffled through my collection, set up a playlist on the computer, grabbed the book I was reading, and just waited for her to emerge, listening to soft music, looking at a book page, my eyes sightlessly reading the words while I wondered if I should go to the family reunion. After all, there are some members of the family that I'd rather seen thrown screaming into a fusion reactor... and I didn't really go to any great lengths to conceal it

So, I could go, and be there... and talk to people, eat some food, make meaningless chit-chat to people that I only speak to there, (who I assume I'm related to since they're there), and then three days later hop a flight back. I'd have more fun on a bender, and I was loath to have a bender at a reunion--despite the attraction the idea had in a comical self-destructive way. I wished I had someone else there with me; it wouldn't be so much of an unbearable chore then.

The door clicked open, and a wave of humidity washed into the small living room as Jennifer stepped out, scrubbing her hair with a towel. Dressed in a thin cotton top and pants, vigorously scrubbing her hair with a towel, she looked good and I couldn't help but feel a surge of hormones... which was almost immediately replaced with shame and disgust as I perved not only a friend, but a friend who was going through an incredibly rough time. Appalled with myself, I averted my eyes and carefully put my book away. A good person? Me? Ha. I cleared my throat to attract her attention to remind her, "You were thinking about food?"