Shaking my head, I laugh. “Anyone ever tell you, you’re a smart old man?”
“All the way home, Leif, my son.” With that, he tips his hat over his face and reclines all the way back for an evening nap.
“Eva,” I say, cursing under my breath. “While it’s always nice to see you” —I roll my eyes so she can see— “We could have discussed Mom’s birthday on the phone. You really need to butt out of my life. I have somewhere to be tonight. Plans with my friends, you know?”
Eva huffs, tilts her head to the side and scrunches up her face in that bitchy way she’s ace at. “Why did you ignore my phone call?”
Mr. Olsen snorts loudly, a laugh masked by a pretend snore. I grin when Eva peeks over my shoulder. “The heavy metal I was holding over my face prevented me from picking up my cell phone at that particular moment,” I fire back, unlocking the door and pushing it open.
Eva flies in first and spins on me. One eyebrow raised she croons, “What, you’re so weak you can’t hold your gun up now?”
I groan, turning my face to the ceiling. “Bench press, Eva. I was working out when you called. It makes answering the phone hard. What do you have in mind for the party? What do you need me to do? Is your husband gone again?”
Her face changes, and the guilt hits. Eva veers into the kitchen and opens the fridge. “I’ll just make you some dinner before you go out, okay?”
Biting my tongue, I set my bag and helmet on the rack by the door and throw the switches to illuminate the living room. “Why did you marry the guy if you were going to be constantly lonely?” And in my fucking business.
“Why would you marry a woman if you were going to be constantly deployed?” she shoots back, turning on the stove. I glance at the ingredients, the ones she bought earlier this week and can’t deny I’m excited to eat what she’s making. It’s one of my favorites.
Leaning on the island bar, I watch her work for a couple of silent moments. “That’s why I haven’t committed to anyone, Eva. That logic doesn’t work. Flipping the argument doesn’t win this time.” She sniffles once and tucks her fair blonde hair behind one ear. It’s almost the same shade as mine, except hers is a touch darker. I’m in the sun more frequently, and she lives in an office all day long. “Are you happy?” I ask.
She’s quiet for a few moments, and an outsider might think it’s one of those awkward silences that happen when you’re not sure what to say, but when you have siblings like Eva, it’s never awkward. There’s nothing I can say that would offend her and vice versa. She’s calculating how her response is going to be taken, weighing whether it’s worth telling the truth. Basically we’re having the conversation in her mind before she begins it. “I’m as happy as I can be given the circumstances.” She slides a bottle of water to me over the counter. “He is busy with his life. I’m busy with mine. When we’re together, it works well and we’re happy. Mundane, maybe, but that’s what it looks like for most people.” She casts a glance letting me know I don’t reside in that category.
It sounds fucking awful and I’d tell her so if I felt like arguing. “Here’s the thing,” I start, clearing my voice. “You here all the time isn’t good for business. Even the guys at work think it’s weird. I moved here to start a life of my own.”
“Shut up. You aren’t a child. Why do you care what they think about your family?” Because it’s interfering with my life. “We are your family. That means we’ll always be a part of your life no matter where you move.”
“Can we limit visits to weekends only?” I ask, opening the water and drinking half. “The food and cooking is appreciated. Your ugly mug in my kitchen is fantastic, but Sundays only? That’s fair.”
Her eyes go wild. After countless hours of training in interrogating suspects, I know what the feral look in her eye means. “We are adults, Eva. You’re married. My house,” I say, waving an arm around the room. “Your house,” I add, pointing at the door. “Please.” Manners might get me out of a fight with Celia, but Eva is a fucking shark so I steel my nerves.
She shakes her head and starts muttering under her breath. “You don’t even ask about me. How I’m doing. You move right in to how I’m making you feel. It’s not always about you, Leif. Despite what the rest of the world leads you to believe.”
My cell phone vibrates in my pocket and as subtly as possible, I slide it out and read the text from Sutter. They’re heading to Bobby’s Bar and want to know when I’ll be there. Swallowing hard, I look at my sister, her back facing me. “If you want my friendship and for me to wonder how you’re doing you probably need to go away for a while. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. You call me every day. You come over uninvited. There’s no guesswork involved.”
She spins, the frying pan in her hands. “The IVF didn’t take. Again,” she says, eyes glassing over. My breath lodges in my throat. “I’m bleeding out $19,500 worth of fertilized eggs that won’t attach to my uterus right now.”Oh, fuck.
Where the fuck is Celia? She’s good at this. She’s the sincere sibling. A lump of dread lodges in my throat, and I work to clear it. “I’m sorry,” I reply, voice low. “That must be tough.” She can’t expect more than that from me. When it comes to emotions, I’m stunted. I block out everything in favor of feeling nothing. I’d blame my job and what I sometimes have to do, but I think I’ve always been like this. An emotional robot. I round the island and pull my sister into my arms. “I’m sorry, Eva. Maybe next time?”
Her face buried in my chest, she shakes her head. “We’re out of fertilized eggs. I don’t want to go through all of that again and he told me he doesn’t want to use someone else’s. I haven’t told him it didn’t take yet. He had an important business dinner tonight. It would have upset him.” Eva is rarely emotional. In fact, this whole process with her infertility is the only time I’ve seen her upset to this degree. Probably because she always gets what she wants, and for the first time she can’t control the outcome. I’m not completely sure she doesn’t want a baby so bad because it’s harder for her to have one. While we were growing up, she always waxed poetic about never having kids because they’re messy and take up too much time. We were all shocked when she announced that not only were she and her husband trying to have a baby, but they were going through fertility treatments to give them the best chance possible. Celia called her a liar and a massive fight broke out. Our parents were happy at the prospect of grandchildren, but even they were wary of her drastically altered plans.
Sighing, I try to be sympathetic because I know how hard she’s been trying to have a baby, but in the same breath, personally, I think she’s fucking insane for wanting a family. A baby. A child. An actual human being that depends on you in all ways. If you’re lucky it’s eighteen years, if you’re not it’s forever and ever. That tether is something I never want. Parenting isn’t a no-fail mission, and that’s a risk I’m not willing to take.
Ever.
