Breaking the Rules

by Cat Lavoie

  “Of course. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Merchant.” I feel blood rushing to my cheeks.

  “It’s your sisters, if I’m not mistaken. Isadora and Stefanie? Are they staying with you?”

  It sounds strange to hear my sisters’ full names. It’s almost like she’s talking about two different people. “Steffi is staying with me. Izzie must just be visiting.”

  “I wonder what could be the matter,” Mrs. Merchant says. “The arguing has been going on for a while and it’s very hard to ignore. I couldn’t watch my stories because of it.” She leans in and lowers her voice. “I think they might be fighting over a young man.”

  It’s official. The drama going on in my apartment is more entertaining than the television. Or the Browns.

  Both of our heads turn to my door when the sound of something crashing to the floor fills the hallway. I wince.

  “Great, Steffi. Roxy’s going to kill us now. Isn’t that her favorite mixing bowl?” Izzie’s voice is muffled.

  I would love nothing more than to follow Mrs. Merchant back to her apartment and escape what’s hiding behind door 4C. She could make me tea while I tell her all about what’s been going wrong lately. I’m sure she’s the kind of sweet old lady who gives great advice. But I need to go pick up the pieces right now. Literally.

  “Sorry for the noise, Mrs. Merchant. I’ll take care of it.”

  “You’re a sweet girl, Roxy. Say hello to Oliver for me. I haven’t seen him around today.”

  Mrs. Merchant loves Ollie because he holds the door open for her and offers to carry her grocery bags up the stairs and talks to her as though she’s still a twenty-five-year-old version of herself. But I don’t have the energy to tell her that he’s gone. Maybe another day.

  I open the door and Izzie looks up at me. She’s sweeping the battered remains of my favorite red mixing bowl into a dustpan. I stare at her.

  “I’m so sorry, Rox. It was an accident. I knocked over the bowl with my belly,” Steffi says, waddling into the room.

  “Don’t worry about it. I can buy another one,” I say slowly, taking in the scene. As if I need a reason to buy more kitchen supplies.

  We all look at each other. That’s when I notice a big brown suitcase in the middle of the room. Steffi wouldn’t be caught dead carrying that around.

  “Izzie, what are you doing here ... with a suitcase?”

  She runs her hands down the front of her black pants suit and avoids my gaze. “I was hoping I could stay here for a while.”

  “But you have a home. With Gareth.”

  Gareth has been Izzie’s boyfriend for the last eight years and is a bigger workaholic than her - if that’s even possible.

  Izzie looks up. “Not anymore.”

  “What happened?” I ask. “Did you and Gareth break up?”

  “That’s what I wanted to know before she started shouting at me for being pregnant.” Steffi sticks her bottom lip out and tries to lower herself down on the couch.

  Izzie rolls her eyes. “I’m not screaming at you for being pregnant. I’m screaming at you for being stupid. All I want to know is how you got yourself in this mess. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

  “It’s still none of your business. If I don’t want to talk about it then you’ll just have to live with that.”

  “Guys, please keep your voices down,” I say, remembering my promise to Mrs. Merchant. “It’s late and I could hear you from down the hall.”

  “Sorry, Rox,” Steffi says.

  “It’s okay. As long as no one is shouting, I don’t see why we can’t continue our conversation.” We both look up at Izzie.

  “Why am I suddenly on trial here? She’s the one who brought over an extra guest,” Izzie says, pointing at Steffi. “I’m sure her story is way better than mine.”

  “I doubt it. Some guy knocked me up. Happens every day to stupid people like me. I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking. You, on the other hand, always have everything figured out. Spit it out, Izzie.”

  Izzie plops down on the couch next to Steffi and I sit on the armchair next to them. Despite all the drama, it’s nice to be in the same room again. It reminds me of when we were kids and Mom decided we had watched enough TV. Use your imagination, she’d say. Be creative. Most times, we’d end up playing dress-up with Mom’s old clothes. Steffi was always the pretty princess, Izzie was always the mean teacher trying to tell us what to do and I was always the nice fairy godmother, granting wishes galore. Oh, how things change. Now, some twenty-odd years later, the pretty princess is pregnant with no Prince Charming in sight and there’s nothing the nice fairy godmother can do about that because she’s got problems of her own to deal with. Even the mean teacher looks like she’s not sure of everything anymore.

  “Gareth kicked me out of the house,” Izzie says after a few minutes of silence. I look at her to see if she’s going to cry. Izzie never cries. But there’s a look on her face that could resemble sadness. “It’s just a big misunderstanding.”

  “Did you guys have a fight?” Steffi asks.

  “Sort of.”

  “What about?” I press. “Is there anybody else?”

  Izzie blushes. “Sort of. But like I said, it’s just a big misunderstanding.”

  I smile. “Isadora Simone Rule. I didn’t think you had it in you.” I can’t for the life of me imagine my big sister going at it with some file clerk in a dark closet next to the copy room. That would entail having fun. Maybe this is the dawning of a new Izzie? “Who’s the guy?”

  “I met him at work. But like I said...”

  “Yeah, yeah, big huge misunderstanding. We know,” Steffi says. “Is it the guy I met when I went to your office last year? He had the most gorgeous smile. The pilot attorney?”

  Izzie’s eyes grow wide. “Who? Oh, you mean Mark, the patent attorney. Steffi, a patent is a legal protection of...”

  “Whatever, that’s him. He’s dreamy. Good going, Izz.”

  The vein on Izzie’s forehead starts to throb as Steffi stares into space, probably daydreaming about being the future sister-in-law of the dreamy pilot attorney who flies his plane to the office every morning.

  “A pilot, huh? Is it serious?” I ask, playing along.

  “I’m not dating a lawyer nor am I dating a pilot,” Izzie hisses, snapping Steffi out of her daydream. “He’s more of a ... client.”

  We’re silent for a moment as Izzie stares at the floor. Steffi gives me a confused look.

  I think about this for a minute. “A client? Like... a criminal?”

  Izzie’s head jerks up. “He’s not a criminal. He hasn’t been convicted of anything yet and he won’t be.”

  Steffi’s eyes light up with excitement. “Oh my God, you’re dating a criminal. What did he do? Is he on the run right now? Are we in danger? Should we hide?”

  My heart speeds up a little. I hate to be a drama queen like my baby sister but I can’t help but wonder. “Is that why you’re here? Are you in trouble?”

  “Everyone calm down. His name is Chaser and he only allegedly shoplifted a case of beer. And, anyways, we just went out for a cup of coffee and Gareth blew it way out of proportion. He’s just scared that people will find out and I’ll get in the way of him making partner at his firm, so he thinks it’s a good idea if we spend some time apart. I’ve been working on this important case and I didn’t want to go to a hotel. So I slept a few nights on the floor of my office and now the partners are concerned and have forced me to go on vacation and want me to see some sort of therapist. I’m not crazy; I just love my job. Is that a crime?”

  I laugh. “If it was, you’d prosecute yourself and get twenty to life.” I wish Greta would force me to take a vacation.

  “What’s he like?” Steffi asks. “Chaser. Is that even his real name?”

  “I think so. He’s the drummer for Eye Eight Chelsea. Ever heard of them? He’s a nice kid.”

  I think I should mention that, for Izzie, anyone who’s more than two years yo
unger than her is a kid. Maybe that’s because sometimes she acts more like a woman in her mid-fifties instead of someone who just turned thirty-two.

  Steffi shakes her head. “No, I’ve never heard of them. Are you guys dating or something?”

  Before Izzie can answer, Steffi’s cell phone rings. She fishes it out of her purse and makes a face. “It’s Mom. I’m not answering.” She pushes a button and drops it on the coffee table as if it might bite her at any second.

  “Steffi, you’re going to have to talk to her sooner or later,” Izzie says, using her big sister voice.

  “I know. I’m just hoping for later rather than sooner.”

  “Stop being so immature. You have to face... Wait a second.” Izzie pulls her vibrating phone out of her pocket and her face drains of color. “It’s Mom. I’m not answering.” We all watch Izzie’s phone until our poor mother gives up and it lies motionless in her hand.

  I look from Steffi to Izzie. “Come on, guys. You know she’s going to call me next. And she’s going to ask if I’ve spoken to you and I can’t lie. She’ll see right through me. What am I supposed to tell her?” I ask, my palms starting to get sweaty.

  “Mom can’t know I’m here.” Steffi’s voice is shaky. “I need time to prepare. She has to think I’m still on the other side of the country.”

  “All right. Let’s not panic.” Izzie stands up and paces across the room. “Roxy, you tell Mom that you’ve spoken to me earlier today and I told you I’d be in meetings all day. There’s no way she’d be suspicious of that.” She turns to Steffi. “Don’t you have a friend in Las Vegas?”

  “Yeah. Jonathan.”

  “Great. Rox, you tell Mom that Steffi’s gone to visit her friend in Vegas. Tell her she gets really bad reception with her cell phone because of the desert. She was able to call you and tell you everything was going great before the line cut. That should buy us some time.”

  Izzie stands in the middle of the living room, hands on hips, with a smug look on her face. Who knew she’d be so excellent at planning our own mother’s deception?

  As if on cue, my phone starts ringing. We stare at it for a moment and I take a deep breath. Steffi gives me a thumbs up and a big smile that does nothing to hide the worry on her face. I’m doing this for her. If she needs a bit of time before Mom finds out she’s pregnant, I’ll do whatever I can. As long as she comes clean before the kid hits kindergarten, I should be able to keep Mom at bay.

  “Hi, Mom,” I answer. “What’s up?” I turn away from my sister’s quizzical eyes and proceed to feed my poor sweet mother a bunch of lies about the whereabouts of her two other daughters. She doesn’t go down without a fight, though. “Mom. No. No. Yes, I’m pretty sure Steffi is not on drugs. Yes, I will tell her to call you. It’s the desert, Ma. The cell reception is really bad. No. She doesn’t have a gambling problem. Not everyone in Vegas is a gambler, Ma. Or a stripper. She’s just hanging out with some friends. Jonathan. I don’t know his last name. Yes, she sounded okay. Vegas has great cops, Ma. Don’t you watch CSI? Izzie? Yeah, she was in meetings all day. I know she’s a workaholic. She needs to slow down, I know. I will. I’ll tell her to call you when I speak to her. Me? I’m fine.”

  I was so focused on lying for my sisters that I’m a bit taken aback when she asks about me. “Yes, we had a nice party for Ollie. Went off without a hitch. Yes, I’m going to miss him. No, I don’t know when he’ll be back. No one knows, really. It depends on how things go in London. Yes, I’m fine, Ma. Yes, I’ll tell him you said hi. Look, I have to go now. I love you too. Say hi to Dad for me.”

  I put the phone down and take a breath. Steffi is the first to break the silence. “Thank you, Rox. I appreciate it.”

  “Yeah, good job, Rox,” Izzie says. “Now I could really use a drink.” She stands up and heads towards the kitchen.

  “I think I’m having a craving,” Steffi says, looking at me. “I’d love some of your secret recipe hot chocolate.”

  Half an hour later, my sisters and I are sitting in the kitchen with steaming cups of hot chocolate and brownies left over from Ollie’s party. The only secret behind my ‘secret’ hot chocolate is that I don’t use the powdered stuff. I melt down a bar of dark chocolate and milk chocolate with some cream and milk. Add a dash of vanilla, cinnamon and a tiny sprinkling of cayenne pepper for a bit of warmth and it’s done.

  “So does this guy have a name?” Izzie asks, looking at Steffi.

  “I’m sure he does.” Steffi takes another slow sip and avoids Izzie’s gaze. “But it’s not as cool as Chaser,” she adds under her breath.

  I close my eyes and brace for impact but, to my surprise, Izzie remains calm. I was expecting a lecture but—let’s face it—Izzie isn’t in a position to lecture anybody and she knows it. She just shakes her head and fills up her cup with more hot chocolate.

  The room is silent except for the sounds of sipping. Too silent. Silence makes me nervous. Silence is never golden for the Rule family. I know I shouldn’t do this but I can’t help myself. “Ollie kissed me this morning,” I blurt out. “Like a real kiss, kiss.”

  Izzie almost chokes on a piece of brownie. “What the hell got into him?”

  “I don’t know. It just happened.” I look down at the table and sigh. “But I’m not going to tell Ethan. In fact, you two are the last people I’m telling before I bury this little incident deep down in the back of my mind and never let it out again.”

  “I think that’s a great idea,” Izzie says, nodding. “You don’t want to jeopardize your relationship with Ethan. Some things are better left unsaid and I think this is a perfect example.” She gives Steffi a hard stare. “However, there are situations where leaving things unsaid is just stupid and immature.”

  Steffi rolls her eyes and starts playing with the brownie crumbs on her plate. “I think you should go with your heart on this one. Maybe you could postpone the wedding until you figure things out.”

  Izzie almost chokes. Again.

  I stare at my baby sister. I know pregnancy can make your hormones go crazy, but I didn’t know it could render you downright insane. “There will be no postponing of anything,” I say.

  “Because you love Ethan,” Izzie says in an ‘I-rest-my-case’ sort of way.

  “Yes. And no.”

  Izzie frowns and Steffi raises an eyebrow.

  “I’d need an actual wedding date to postpone my wedding. I’m lucky if I even get to walk down an aisle. At this point, I’m more likely to be stepping on seashells and getting sand in my hair.”

  I tell my sisters about Ethan’s elopement plans and they both agree that our mother would never let us hear the end of it if she wasn’t there for the wedding. Before we know it, all the brownies are gone and the pot of hot chocolate is empty. I look at my watch and yawn. It’s almost four in the morning.

  “Ooooh.” Steffi clutches her stomach as she gets up from the kitchen chair. In half a second, Izzie and I are at her side. Izzie helps her sit down again and I put my hand to her forehead.

  “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” I ask, ready to fetch clean towels, boiling water and anything else we need to birth my niece or nephew in the middle of the kitchen.

  Steffi laughs. “I’m okay. Peanut just kicked me in the ribs. Hard. I think he’s going to be a soccer player when he grows up.”

  “Peanut?” Izzie blurts out.

  “He?” I ask.

  Steffi rubs her belly. “When I went to see the doctor after I first found out, she told me the baby was the size of a peanut. So it just stuck. And I only have a feeling it’s a boy. I hate calling him or her ‘it.’ Ooooh, there he goes again.” She moves her hand to her side. “I think he might be kicking my kidneys now.”

  Izzie frowns at me. “I knew you shouldn’t have put cayenne pepper in the hot chocolate. The baby’s probably all jumpy because of it.”

  I turn to face her. “Really, Izzie? Did you learn that in one of the many pregnancy books you’ve never read cause you’ve never bee
n pregnant?”

  “I’m just saying...”

  “Guys,” Steffi yells out. “Stop fighting. It’s not the cayenne pepper. When I hit my fourth month I craved salsa so much I had it for breakfast. So Peanut is immune to spicy food. He usually gets a bit rowdy at night. I haven’t been sleeping very well. Want to feel him kick?”

  Izzie and I stand frozen in the middle of the kitchen. I’m always nervous around real babies; always afraid I’ll drop them or hurt them somehow. What if I poke Peanut’s eye out or something?

  I kneel down before Steffi and gently press my fingers against her smooth belly. I don’t feel anything and move my fingers slightly.

  “Oh come on, Rox. You’re tickling me.” Steffi presses my palm hard on her stomach. I freeze in horror, imagining my hand flattening poor Peanut. He’s going to hate me the moment he sees me and my giant hand. Izzie will be the cool aunt. I can’t let that happen.

  After a few seconds, Steffi moves my hand a little lower and that’s when I feel him. Kick-kick-kick. And then nothing. And then kick-kick-kick again. It’s like he’s kicking along to a beat.

  I smile. “Wow.... wow.” That’s all I can say. “Wow.” I leave my hand glued to Steffi’s belly. Suddenly, I’m not tired anymore and I could stay up all night feeling Peanut kick.

  “Roxy, quit hogging Peanut,” Izzie says, kneeling down beside me and pressing her hand close to where mine still is. Peanut responds right away and starts kicking up a storm. See? He already likes her better.

  Izzie and I look up at Steffi, our hands still glued to her stomach. This is such a beautiful thing, a beautiful moment. But I’m also scared out of my mind for my sister.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” I ask. “We could have been there for you. We could have helped you. You didn’t have to be alone.”

  “I wasn’t alone. My friends were with me.”

  Izzie grunts. “How about the scumbag father? Was he there too or did he leave you as soon as he found out?” she asks, a disgusted look on her face.

  Steffi stares up at the ceiling and I can see tears flowing down her cheeks. “I told you Izzie. I don’t want to talk about it.”