by A. L. Woods
I watched with bated breath as my older sister’s spine lengthened, her hands finding her hips, her displeasure all but bleeding off of her. Still, the litigator was out on full alert, so she managed to offer Raquel a tactful head nod, but I knew she was quietly taking her apart from where she stood.
Raquel remained impassive in her seat; her countenance wooden as she met my sister’s glare dead on. Not that I should have been surprised by the clear lack of threat my sister had posed. I’d seen where she had grown up today; you didn’t survive a place like that on warm smiles and pleasantries. She clearly had to worry about much worse things, so my sister’s lawyer airs didn’t so much as elicit a nervous shiver.
“Hello.” Maria finally spoke, apparently deciding she had had enough of the silent battle of wills. “I’m Maria.”
“Raquel.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I darted a brow in Maria’s direction, trying to suss out her ploy.
“Wait, what?” Trina protested, glaring at Maria and them at me. “What has she heard that I haven’t? When did you talk to her? You two have been mad at each other for weeks. Why haven’t you told me any—”
I sent my foot into my sister’s shin under the table, watching as the cramp from the impact burned in her eyes. The squeak of surprise slid back down her throat, as she masked the pain with a deft smile and pushed back in her chair.
“Excuse me, I just…” she trailed off, climbing to her feet and hobbling out of the kitchen. From the living room, I heard her exhale a curse toward the ceiling.
Served her right. She almost blew it.
If Trina had started asking Maria too many questions, Raquel would have learned that we looked her up and that Maria’s judgement had to do with a lot more than what was going on with her face.
That wasn’t really a conversation I was ready to have just yet. Not when I’d finally gotten Raquel in my space. I’d started to consider how I could make this right with her, and I wasn’t about to let any of my sisters fuck that up the ass.
My eyes tracked Maria’s movements as she stepped deeper into the inner sanctum of the kitchen and deposited herself into the seat Ma had occupied. She tipped her head to the right, her hands flanking the armrests of the chair, eyes sweeping over Raquel again as if she was trying to discern what Raquel’s modus operandi was, like some kind of monarch being presented a new courtier.
Maria was as regal as Catherine of Aragon and just as mercurial as Henry VIII. And equally as liable to order a death sentence without a fair trial.
“So,” Maria started, “That’s quite the shiner you have there.”
I winced as she confirmed my worst fear. She was jumping straight into the cross examination.
“Is it?” Raquel said, matching my sister’s posture in her own seat. “I haven’t looked.”
My sister frowned at that; the mirrored movement not wasted on her. I watched her molars come together, that pinched concentration in her brows telling me she hadn’t anticipated Raquel’s cagey response and was momentarily thrown off kilter. She was used to people spilling their thoughts at her feet because they legally had to, thanks to a sworn oath.
Raquel had no obligation to provide an explanation. She wasn’t on a witness stand; she was seated at our ma’s kitchen table, meeting my sister’s antagonism dead on.
Maria cleared her throat, her neck elongating the way it always did when she was about to come at something from another angle. “You got yourself into some trouble, and you haven’t assessed the damage yet?”
Raquel’s forehead puckered briefly. “No.”
“Why’s that?” Maria leaned forward in her seat, the shark inside of her swimming out from wherever it had been hiding.
“Enough, Maria,” I warned darkly. I was going to tear her a new asshole at the first opportunity.
“It’s fine, Sean,” Raquel said, her tone eerily calm as she traced over my sister with her eyes and said to her, “I haven’t had the opportunity.”
“That’s odd.” Maria’s fingers steepled together, her lips compressing. “So, walk me through this. You get into tussle, you call my brother, and then end up here, all without checking your purported injuries?”
“Jesus Chri—” I began.
“Am I on trial, Maria?” Raquel asked, cocking her head to the right, her eyes narrowing as she spoke. True to her journalistic wits, she had recalled my sister’s profession from our talk that night at the diner and wielded it to her advantage.
“Of course not.” Maria guffawed, her brows rising north, as if she couldn’t believe Raquel had the balls to ask her that. A flicker of excitement sparked in my sister’s eyes; she had finally found her match.
“Good, because last I checked, I was a guest here against my will. If that bothers you, I’d prefer it if you interrogate your brother and leave me out of it. I didn’t call him, nor did I ask to be brought here.”
Raquel glided her chair away from the table, her slender limbs uncurling as she clambered to her feet. The tips of her fingers pressing into the edge of the table, her body leaned forward toward Maria sat.
“And just so we’re clear, people who get into ‘tussles’ don’t make a point of checking out their injuries. They’re not interested in being reminded of what’s happened.”
I followed Raquel’s movements under hooded lids as she walked to the kitchen sink, where Ma was sending Maria a look from the devil himself. “Mrs. Tavares, thank you very much. You’re a fabulous cook. Hands down the best meal I’ve ever had in my life.”
Ma placed a hand to the center of her chest. Raquel’s compliment had obviously landed in a warm place inside of her that hadn’t been touched in a long time. Ma murmured something back to her, producing a small smile from Raquel that disappeared as soon as she turned to us and went to retrieve her jacket from the back of the chair.
“I’ll be waiting outside, Sean.” She didn’t so much spare my sister a glance.
I’d managed to keep her here for an hour before Maria came in and fucking blew it. I waited until I heard the steel-enforced door to the garage open and spring close on a loud clap.
“I like her; she’s fiery,” Maria said, smoothing the dark sheet of hair that was draped over her shoulder. “I imagine she’s quite pretty sans the bruising, so I can understand why you’re attracted to her,”
My jaw unhinged itself as Maria prattled on. How many years would I have to serve for first-degree murder?
“Who tried to choke her out, though? I know a fantastic tort litigator I can refer to her, and he’d probably do it pro bono. I can’t imagine she makes a ton of money writing for that little paper.”
My molars crunched together, a smarting of pain suffusing through my TMJ muscles. Before I could speak, Ma’s shadow appeared in my peripheral vision.
“You,” Ma said, her voice shaking, her finger of judgement pointed like an arrow directly at my sister’s chest. “You make a big problem here.”
Maria’s dark eyes rounded, feigning innocence. More of that sly head tilting that reminded me of a cat. “Did I?”
“She leave,” Ma spat, “You no see?” She pointed to the empty chair, “No girl. You go fix.” She kicked her chin at Maria. “Go. You go find her and say you sorry.”
“Are you practicing your English, Maezinha?” Livy chirped, appearing out of nowhere, completely oblivious that Raquel had ever been here. She clutched her script tightly between her fingers. “If you’re practicing, do you want to run lines with me?”
“Go upstairs,” Ma told her in Portuguese, flicking her hand dismissively.
“I just got here,” Livy protested.
“Go upstairs,” Maria and I shouted at her in unison.
Livy lowered the hand that held the script, her stare bouncing between all of us. She squared her shoulders, sending us all a look of pity, pressing her thumb and index finger into the pressure points on her forehead. “Honestly,” she whined, drawing from some sort of valley girl inspirati
on from one of those stupid reality TV shows she loved so much. “This family needs therapy. The energy in this house is exhausting.”
This family didn’t need therapy. We needed a damn exorcism. Livy huffed and then turned on her heel, fucking off back up the stairs. I heard her footsteps above me and the hard click of her door like she had all but kicked it shut.
Maria slapped the top of her thighs, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t understand why you’re both so upset.”
“Did you drop her on her head when she was a baby?” I asked Ma in Portuguese, my eyes tapering at my sister. To her I said, “You insulted her and insinuated she faked her injuries.”
“I didn’t suggest anything. I was using deductive reasoning to corroborate her story.”
“You just met her, and she didn’t give you a story. You drew conclusions based off of conjecture.”
Maria’s surprised expression was almost comical. She’d forgotten that I’d helped her study more than a few times over the years. My brain wasn’t a wooden block held together by various nails and screws; I was capable of reading and retaining information, too.
Tilting her head, she said, “She showed up here without warning with bruises that may as well have acted as admissible evidence. I didn’t need to ask her for her story. I could fill in the blanks myself.”
I glared at my sister, my blood pumping harder than usual while I tried to temper my annoyance. “You degraded her.”
“That wasn’t my intent,” Maria amended, looking more like a lawyer now than ever, even outside of the snotty power suits she wore to the office. “But you’re my younger brother, and I need to understand her intentions with you. You’ve been badly burned in the past, Sean.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I vaulted out of my chair. “I don’t need this sudden interest in my life from you, of all people.”
“Sudden interest?” Maria rose gracefully, her hands clasped in front of her. “I’ve had stock in you since the day you were born, little brother.”
“Right.” I nodded, rubbing the corners of my mouth. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you didn’t give a shit about making the sacrifice when Dad died.”
“Don’t you put that back on me.” Her eyes narrowed, but despite that she saw through the mud I slung at her just fine. “I never asked you to do that for me.”
“You didn’t have to,” I roared, fire all but blowing out of my mouth as I jabbed a pointed finger in her direction. “I did the right thing for you.”
“No, no, no,” Maria said, wagging her finger at me, her lips pursing together. “You can stop your self-righteous plight while you’re ahead. Anything you did, you did because you wanted to or at her behest,” she jerked a thumb at Ma. “Do not place your shit on me.”
“Fuck you, Maria.”
“João,” Ma warned, making a quick sign of the cross, lips moving fast in prayer.
“No, I’m sick of this constant shit with her,” I hissed. To my pain-in-the-ass sister I said, “You honest to God think you’re better than everyone, don’t you?”
My sister’s expression bloomed with interest, goading me on. I hated that not even a shadow of guilt or anger was visible on her face.
“No one’s good enough for you.”
“Excuse me?” she challenged.
“Not me, not Livy, not Trina, not Ma. Not even Dougie.”
The latter got to her. She flinched, her shoulders hitting her ears, and her hands dropped to her sides, knuckles straining as she curled her fists. “Don’t you dare bring him up.” Her voice was low and threatening, her cheeks flushed with heat.
Before Penelope had even been a thought in Dougie’s mind, he had been crazy for my sister. Pined for her for years, not that it had ever gone anywhere. She had made it perfectly clear that she felt he was beneath her. She wouldn’t be caught dead dating anyone who didn’t have a JD degree from one of the snotty and revered ivy league schools.
Frankly, thank God for that.
This thing with Raquel was mess enough. I didn’t even want to consider the hell that would ensue if my best friend had dated my sister.
Still, I used the ammo that had presented itself to me from the recesses of my mind and took my shot. “Why not? It’s true. You didn’t date him because you thought he was beneath you, just like you think everyone else in this house is beneath you, too. You have a superiority complex, Maria. But you know what?”
It was as if every morsel of anger and resentment toward my sister that I had unknowingly held onto was exploding from within me like detonated TNT. Every snotty comment, every backhanded remark she had ever made, rushed through me.
“You can have all the money in the world, and the best of everything that money can buy, and that still doesn’t make you better than us,” I hotly informed her. “I’d rather have given up all my dreams for this family if it meant I didn’t turn into an entitled bitch like you.”
I watched the steady rise and fall of her chest like the bullets of my words were lodging themselves there. For a beat of a second, the lawyer was gone, the shell of her was still there, and what stood before me was someone I hadn’t really seen in a long time.
My older sister. No airs. No subterfuge. Just my sister. Her expression was still unreadable, but it was her eyes that reminded me that past the red tape bullshit she had enraptured herself in, she was still human.
“João!” Ma trilled, the stomp of her foot echoed through the house, demanding our silence. The house grew unnaturally quiet save for our heavy breathing, the soundlessness stretching throughout the kitchen, as if our younger sisters had stopped dead in their tracks to listen in on the argument.
It was Ma’s audible gasp and hands raised to her mouth that made me consider for a fleeting moment that maybe I had gone too far. If Maria was out of sorts, it would have been hard to tell. She stabbed the inside of her cheek with her tongue, her breaths coming hard and fast through her nose.
She took an exaggerated inhalation, presumably for fortitude, and pursed her lips at me. “Are you done?” she asked, appearing to relax her posture. Her bored, made-up dark eyes met mine from across the table. I should have felt guilty for what I had said to her, but for some reason, I didn’t. I felt vindicated.
“I’ll take your silence as confirmation.” She slid the chair out of her way and stepped away from the table. “I’ll go speak to your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I amended, folding my arms across my chest, shuffling my weight from foot to foot. “And leave her alone. I’ll talk to her.”
Confusion pervaded through Ma’s expression. She huffed in Portuguese, “She’s not your girlfriend? Then why did Katrina say she was?”
“We’re working on it.” I pressed my fingertips to my eyelids, massaging away the ache that throbbed behind them.
“You may not realize this, Sean,” Maria began, the unfamiliar quaver of her voice registering in my mind, “but I am only trying to protect you, despite what it seems like.”
My head winded back at that, my expression growing incredulous. “I don’t need you to protect me, Maria.”
“I know that, but it’s instinct.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “After what happened with Trina and—” she stopped herself when Ma’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I realized that I wasn’t as involved in your lives as I should have been. I’ve been trying to fix that, but I think, perhaps, based on your anger, that I’ve gone about this the wrong way.”
All I could manage to do was blink at her. Had she just conceded defeat? No. Had Maria just admitted she was wrong?
“Don’t look so shocked. I am capable of being reasonable. I overcompensated.”
“Meu deus,” Ma murmured from her spot, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing any more than I could.
Maria straightened, tossing her drape of dark hair over her shoulders. Her lawyer bravado settled like a Noh mask on her f
ace.
“I’ll be right back.”
I was too stunned to stop my sister as she left the room, the door to the garage slamming shut on its hinges behind her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I think I was in Fall River. Or at least, a little outside that. That was what I had gathered when the family next door to Sean’s ma’s place walked past the wooden fencepost at the end of the driveway I was leaning against. Their accents carried the same inflection as Sean’s as they tittered on about the ice cream they had indulged in over at the Borden Lights Marina that afternoon, their expressions relaxed, their smiles light, looking postcard fucking perfect. The gravel that trimmed the edges of the paved road they walked alongside crunched under their feet, hot vapor leaving their mouths against the cool November air.
They gave me a curious look as I puffed on my third cigarette in twenty-five minutes, my stare entrenched on the thick clustering of coniferous trees across the road that got denser in the middle. I was an outlier after all, and even the neighbors on this stretch of country road knew it. I crunched the cigarette under my foot, watching as the family disappeared down the road, their sugary laughs absorbed by the stars that peppered the darkening sky.
He was taking forever.
If I was in Fall River, that meant I was an hour away from the Dot. Buses were running on reduced schedules, so that would likely double the length of time it would take me to get home. Worst case, I could just taxi it and survive on cigarettes and instant noodles until payday; I was that desperate. I fished the cigarettes out of my pocket, thrusting another Pall Mall between my lips. The cancer stick dangled precariously as I worked the lighter flint into sparking.
“Can I have one of those?”
My skin nearly receded on itself. I had been so deep in my own thoughts that I hadn’t even heard her coming. My eyes shifted without my moving my head. This bitch couldn’t get a damn clue. Maria was wrapped up in an expensive-looking wool cape in a black, white, and red plaid print on a cream background. It didn’t match her gray sweatpants that clung to the curve of her waist like cellophane.