Confessions of the Sullivan Sisters

by Natalie Standiford

  I’d never thought of it that way. I always wished Ginger and Daddy-o would stop talking around things and just say what they’re really thinking. But you never have trouble speaking your mind, and I don’t always like that either. No offense. So maybe Robbie had a point.

  “What about your dad?” I asked.

  “He’s as bad as my mother. Maybe worse. He’s a market-research consultant. He studies people’s facial expressions to see how they feel about commercials and products. He used to be a psychologist but he makes more money helping big corporations dupe the public. The worst part is he can look at your face and say, ‘Your upper lip just twitched! Anger! You’re angry. Don’t try to hide it from me, young man. Why does it make you so angry when I say those pants make you look like a girl? Do you have something against girls? Perhaps some unresolved Oedipal feelings?’”

  “Ouch.”

  “Maybe denial is the reason your parents are still together,” Robbie said. “Mine split up when I was ten. Two aggressive people can’t live in the same house for long, analyzing every word and facial twitch. They tear each other apart.”

  We strolled through Mount Vernon Place. People poured out of the Peabody Library, having just seen a concert. A group of music students sat on the edge of a fountain, their instrument cases propped up in front of them, passing around a bottle in a paper bag.

  “I really like Baltimore,” Robbie said. “It’s so chill.”

  I pointed to the Walters Art Museum. “Daddy-o works there.”

  “I love that you call your father Daddy-o. It makes him sound so fun and not scary.”

  “He is fun and not scary. He likes to have a good time. Your dad sounds scary, I have to say.”

  “I make him sound worse than he is. If you met him you’d like him, I think, because he’s smart and you like smart people. He’d like you. He can read faces, and you have one of the great ones.”

  We stopped at a second fountain—the one with the Sea Urchin statue. The rushing water chilled the air. Robbie looked down at me. I could read his face very easily. Maybe he’d learned to telegraph his feelings clearly, having been raised by crazed psychologists. He wanted to know if I’d mind if he kissed me.

  “No,” I said. “I wouldn’t mind.”

  He leaned down and kissed me quickly and lightly on the lips. “That’s enough for now,” he said. Then we continued on our way downtown.

  Carmen lived in a loft near Fells Point. It turned out we weren’t early after all. People were already drinking wine in the kitchen and helping Carmen make salad. Carmen wiped her wet hands on her canvas apron. She kissed Robbie and pinched his cheek, murmuring “Robbila, Robbila,” like a Jewish grandmother, then shook my hand. She’s small and wiry as a dancer, with long black hair and rich dark skin and full red lips. She’s sexy, and I felt jealous of her immediately. It turns out I had good reason to, but I didn’t know that yet.

  Robbie introduced me to everyone. There were too many names to remember, but they all seemed to remember mine.

  “Wait…Sullivan?” a shaved-headed girl said. “You’re not from that evil family, are you?”

  “Yes I am,” I said, thinking she was making some kind of odd joke. “We’re all evil. How did you know?”

  She wasn’t joking. “From that blog, you know? Myevilfamily.com? This girl named Jane Sullivan tells all about her rich family who lives up in Guilford somewhere—”

  Jane. I should have known this would have something to do with her. Should I admit that she was my sister, or pretend to be from a completely different Sullivan family? It’s a common name, after all. I could’ve gotten away with it.

  “I’ll show you.” The girl went to a Mac on Carmen’s desk and typed in www.myevilfamily.com. There at the top of the page was a drawing of our house. In a side column, under “About Me,” was a caricature of Jane, probably drawn by her friend Bridget.

  “That’s my sister,” I blurted.

  “Really?” the bald girl said. “That’s hilarious. Listen to this”—she started reading out loud from one of Jane’s entries—“‘Almighty was born with lots of money. I’ve already told you some of the evil ways her ancestors earned it. But she has even more money now. How did she get it? By marrying people.’ She calls her grandmother ‘Almighty.’ Is that not a riot?”

  “Do you really call her ‘Almighty’?” a guy asked me.

  “Everybody calls her that.” I never gave it much thought until that night.

  “You have to read the whole thing,” the bald girl said. In my mind her name had become “Shavey.” “It’s the context. You know, this poor little rich girl bitching about her terrible family—” She paused. She must have remembered that the poor little rich girl’s sister was standing right next to her. “Sorry. I mean, you think it’s funny, don’t you?”

  “I haven’t read it yet,” I admitted. “But when I do, I’m sure I’ll be in stitches.”

  Katya and the rest of the gallery contingent arrived, and the loft began to fill up with people. Robbie knew most of them. I was enjoying my uncomfortable anonymity when it was shattered by the entrance of Shea Donovan. Even worse, she walked in on the arm of Josh. He wore yoga pants and a T-shirt that said BE PRESENT. She wore jeans and a sweater. She didn’t look all that slutty, really. Not that night anyway.

  “God save us, Josh is here,” Anjali muttered to Robbie. “With that little kid.” I tried to take it as a compliment that she’d already forgotten to think of me as a little kid too.

  “I know that girl,” I told Robbie. “She goes to my school.”

  “She has crap taste in men,” Robbie said. “Josh is a skeeve.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “She likes skeeves.”

  “Dinner’s ready,” Carmen announced. The long table was spread with tall candelabras and all kinds of delicious food, from curried chicken to vegetable samosas to salmon teriyaki and pork dumplings. Some people settled at the long table to eat, and some filled their plates and made satellite groups on the couches and cushions scattered through the living room.

  I sat next to Robbie at the long table and we passed the dishes around. Music was playing and the room was buzzing with talk and laughter. Robbie grinned at me and I felt warm and happy all of a sudden. I pressed my hand on the top of his head. It was an irresistible urge. His curly black hair flattened under my hand. I laughed.

  “Why are you doing that?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I can’t help it.” I lifted my hand and his hair sprang back into its usual fan shape. “Does it bother you?”

  “Not when you do it.”

  Then we laughed the strangest laugh, like we were co-conspirators. I’ve had that feeling with my sisters before, but never with a boy or even Claire.

  Carmen sat down next to me. “Hey, you two. So. Norrie. You’re Robbie’s new girlfriend?”

  She was staring at me intensely. I got the feeling her interest in this question was not casual.

  “We just met a few weeks ago,” Robbie said.

  “That doesn’t answer my question,” Carmen said. “Which was directed at Norrie, not you, Robbie. Don’t do that thing.”

  “What thing?” Robbie asked.

  “That thing where you think you know everything and you answer questions for everyone, even those that weren’t directed at you,” Carmen said. “Norrie’s old enough to speak for herself—aren’t you, Norrie?”

  She was smiling, but her incisors suddenly made me think of a wolf’s teeth.

  “Of course I am,” I said. I had to stop playing the shy little girl or people like Carmen would eat me alive. “Robbie and I are friends.”

  “How did you meet?” Carmen asked.

  “In a class at Hopkins,” I said.

  “Oh? Do you go to Hopkins?”

  “No.”

  “Then what were you doing there?”

  “What is this, an interrogation?” Robbie asked.

  “I’m just curious about your new friend, Robbie,” Carmen said.
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br />   Robbie scowled. An electric current ran between them—some history I didn’t know about. I’d been hoping to pass as a Hopkins undergrad, but I got the feeling Carmen already knew my true story. She just wanted to hear it from me. So I’d know she knew, and Robbie would know she knew.

  “It’s a night class.” I hesitated to add the humiliation—not even a night class in, say, Existential Philosophy or Particle Physics but, “Speed Reading.”

  “Speed Reading! You must both be whizzes at it by now. As I remember, Robbie already reads pretty quickly.”

  “I wanted to go even faster,” Robbie explained.

  “I’m sure you did,” Carmen said. “More wine?” She topped off our glasses. “Robbie, what’s the name of that girl Josh is with, do you remember? Shawn, or Sinead, or something?”

  Robbie gave me away. “Norrie knows her. What’s her name?”

  “Shea.”

  Carmen’s wolf grin was wide and triumphant. “You sure get around for someone I’ve never met before. Did you meet Shea in Speed Reading too?”

  “We go to school together,” I said. “We’re not friends or anything. I hardly know her.”

  “Isn’t that interesting. Don’t be a snob, Norrie. You have more in common with Shea than you do with anyone else in this room.” She rose quickly with the bottle of wine and offered to refill someone else’s glass.

  “Sorry about Carmen,” Robbie said. “She can be kind of a bitch.”

  I got up to go to the bathroom. Shea and Josh came out of the bathroom together, rubbing their noses. At the sight of me Shea brightened and got friendly.

  “Norrie! What are you doing here?”

  “Hi, Shea. Same thing as you, I guess.”

  “Your boyfriend is cute! Josh says he’s supposed to be very smart.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend, exactly—”

  “What do you mean? I saw him sitting with his arm around you. What are you doing here with him if he’s not—” A memory flickered across her face. “Wait—Brooks. You were at Gornick’s party with Brooks, and now you’re here with this guy….”

  For as long as I’ve known her—and I’ve known her since seventh grade—I’d never seen Shea so talkative. At school she’s always chewing gum and hiding behind her hair and slouching around as if she doesn’t want anyone to see her. At parties, with boys, she’s all body language. But here, suddenly, in this exotic world of grown-up people who intimidated me, she was chirpy and cute. No wonder she likes being with older guys, I thought, if she feels more animated around them.

  “I’m just hanging out with Robbie,” I said.

  “You know what? I really want some wine,” Shea said. She tottered off to the kitchen counter where the wine was. Josh followed in her wake.

  By the time Carmen’s homemade spice cookies were served, the music was louder, the windows were open, and people were dancing lazily in one corner of the room. Shea and Josh were planted at one end of the long orange couch, making out as if they’d forgotten they were in a room full of people. The next time I glanced in their direction, they were gone. I thought they’d left, but about half an hour later I saw Josh back on the couch, talking to Katya.

  “I’m working on keeping my mind here and now, and not letting it drift, you know?” Josh said. Katya nodded absently, her eyes wandering around the room. “I’m in a constant struggle with my ego. I’m always trying to tamp it down but it pops back up by itself.”

  “Maybe that’s just human nature,” Katya said.

  “Josh is lying to Katya,” Robbie whispered to me. “See how he’s smiling with his mouth but not with his eyes?”

  “Yeah…,” I said. Robbie was right—Josh’s smile looked stiff. “So you mean he’s not in a constant struggle with his ego?”

  “I think he let his ego win a long time ago,” Robbie said. We snickered.

  “Human nature is no excuse.” Josh stretched, then rested his hands on the waist of his pants.

  “Look!” Robbie whispered. “He just made two classic flirting signals!”

  “But she doesn’t like him,” I said.

  “How do you know?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m just getting a vibe.”

  “Her legs are pointed away from him,” Robbie whispered. “That’s a signal she doesn’t like him. You picked up on it unconsciously.”

  “I keep reminding myself in meditation: Other people don’t matter,” Josh said. “My consciousness is the universe.”

  “That’s how you tamp down your ego?” Katya said.

  Carmen ran out of her bedroom screaming in disgust.

  “Josh! Where’s Josh?” She zeroed in on him. “Josh! That little lush you brought over puked in my bed! Right on my pillow!”

  “Shit,” Josh muttered as Carmen dragged him back into her bedroom to show him the damage.

  A few minutes later Josh pulled a stumbling Shea toward the door. Her eyes were heavy-lidded. She burped. “I’ve got to take her home. Sorry, Carmen.”

  “What? You’re not going to clean up after her?”

  “What do you want me to do? She’s in bad shape. I’ll make it up to you. Send me the laundry bill or whatever.”

  “She’s never coming here again, do you hear me?” Carmen pushed them out the door. “That’s what you get for fooling around with little baby sluts.” Slam! She whacked the door shut.

  A few people glanced in my direction.

  Carmen turned her fury on me. “Maybe you should go too, Robbie, before something else happens. I don’t want to be responsible for corrupting a minor. You want to be a glorified babysitter, that’s your business.”

  “Norrie’s fine, Carmen,” Robbie protested. “I—”

  “Don’t worry, Robbie, I get it,” Carmen said. “I was too much for you, and since you can’t handle a real woman, you go for a high school girl. Nice and dumb and easy to scam. Right, Robbie?”

  My face was flaming hot. I wanted to defend myself, but what could I say? Besides, it was obvious now that the electricity I’d noticed between Robbie and Carmen was an ex-girlfriend vibe.

  “Norrie isn’t like Shea,” Robbie said. “Just because they’re the same age—”

  “—and go to the same school—” Carmen said.

  “—doesn’t mean they’re the same kind of person,” Robbie finished. “Norrie is not dumb and nobody’s scamming anybody. You want to see a real scam artist, look in the mirror.”

  “I’m so grateful we broke up!” Carmen said. “It was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Robbie grabbed my hand and we flew out of there. She slammed the door behind us too. “How dare she talk to you that way?” he said. “Or to me? Or to anybody?” He kicked open the door to the stairwell and raced down a few feet ahead of me. When we got outside in the cold night air he said, “I didn’t mean for things to turn out that way.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about her before?” I asked.

  “We broke up months ago. Maybe she isn’t as over it as I thought.”

  It was after midnight. The city was quieting down. A gang of boys watched us from across the street.

  “Now what?” Robbie said. “We walked all the way down here. I left my car up near the gallery. How am I going to get you home?” He had figured on one of his friends driving us back to the car, but he hadn’t counted on making such a speedy and humiliating exit.

  “Maybe we can catch a taxi,” I said. We weren’t far from the Ritz, and I knew we could probably find one there if we didn’t hail one on the street.

  As it turned out, a cab drove by as we headed for the hotel. We flagged him down and he drove us up Charles Street to Robbie’s car. We were quiet as we drove north through the city. The glasphalt sparkled like a street of stars. When he pulled up in front of the house, he laughed and said, “Look at this place! So you really are part of that evil family on the website.”

  The light was on in the Tower. “That’s us all right—the evil family.”

&nbs
p; I waited for him to kiss me good night, but he hesitated. Maybe Carmen’s words were echoing in his head, especially “babysitter.” They were definitely banging around in my head.

  “There’s a big difference between you and Shea, you know,” he said. “I mean, people don’t respect Shea. She’s always wasted and she doesn’t know what she’s doing half the time. She just lets things happen to her.”

  “People don’t respect me either,” I said. “At least, your friends don’t.”

  “They don’t know you.” He leaned toward me and brushed my cheek with his lips. “I’m just trying to say don’t worry about what my jealous ex-girlfriend thinks. She’s only trying to make me mad. Okay?”

  I wasn’t convinced, but I said, “Okay.”

  I opened the car door. Robbie didn’t get out to open it for me the way Brooks would have. But I didn’t mind. I was perfectly capable of opening it myself.

  “I’ll wait till you get inside,” he said. “See you in class on Tuesday.”

  “See you in class.”

  I ran inside the house and waved from the front door. He waved back and drove away.

  Upstairs in my room, Jane and Sassy waited.

  TEN

  “JANE, WHAT THE F—?” I THREW MY BAG ON THE DRESSER, pulled my sweater over my head, and cursed her out. I was warm from climbing the stairs and being kissed and feeling annoyed. “My Evil Family? Dot com?”

  Jane grinned. “How did you find out? Is it famous yet?”

  “In a way,” I said. “One of Robbie’s friends showed it to me. She recognized my last name and asked me if I was one of those Sullivans. I wish I wasn’t.”

  “It’s just a little thing I started,” Jane said. “Bridget has one too. Hers is called bridget2nowhere.com.”

  “Very clever,” I snapped. “But why?”

  “Because everybody looks up to us,” Jane said. “And we’re shrouded in mystery and mythology. Almighty spreads these stories about our ancestors and how great they were. I thought people should know the truth. Anyway, I haven’t written anything about you…yet.”