8
OLYMPIA AND LOLA WERE on their way home from Happy Kids when Olympia’s phone rang. Her left hand on the stroller, she dug her right hand into her bag and began to fish. How was it possible that she could grasp every object inside it, from her keys to her wallet to her emergency tampon (which had naturally escaped its paper wrapping) without locating her phone until its last ring? Finally, her hand made contact with the familiar expanse of smooth plastic, and she lifted it into the open. Perri’s name flashed across the screen, just as it did most every evening of Olympia’s life. Not in the mood to talk, Olympia considered not answering, then decided it would be a greater hardship to have to call her back. “Hey, what’s up?” she said.
Perri sounded indignant as she relayed the gossip of the evening—how Mike’s brother, Jeff, had flirted with Gus at dinner. With the honking horns, Lola’s incessant chatter, and her own exhaustion, Olympia had trouble following the story, which sounded unlikely, if not downright apocryphal. It wouldn’t be the first time that Perri had concocted a cockamamie fantasy based on flimsy evidence, Olympia thought. Her sister had always been a fabulist of the tallest order. Or maybe the better word was “alarmist.” If you lost two pounds, she thought you were dying of a wasting disease. “That definitely sounds weird,” she said. “Are you sure?” Then she turned to Lola, and said, “I’m talking to Aunt Perri!… Wait, what happened at school?… Gossamer had an allergic reaction to bread?!… Sorry, Perri, hold on one more second…. What? No, I’m not buying you your own iPhone on the way home…. No, not next year either. Try ten years!… Sorry, Perri, what were you saying?”
“I don’t think you’re grasping the enormity of this,” Perri went on, clearly irritated. “Mike’s brother, who literally arrived in New York ten minutes ago, is making the moves on our younger sister, Gus, who supposedly doesn’t like men. I found them in the kitchen holding hands!”
“Are you sure they weren’t just shaking hands?” asked Olympia.
“They were not shaking hands! They looked like they were about to kiss.”
“Well, the man definitely moves fast,” said Olympia, turning up her block, past a bedraggled figure slumped on the sidewalk, wearing a sandwich board that read, HELP ME.
“The man is a snake!” cried Perri.
“Why is that man sitting on the sidewalk?” Lola asked at the same time.
“He’s homeless,” said Olympia.
“Hardly,” scoffed Perri. “Guess who got a quote, unquote ride back to the city with Gus?”
“Sorry—I was talking to Lola. We just walked by a homeless guy.”
Perri’s voice changed. “Oh, god. Where are you?”
“On my block.”
“Yikes. I didn’t know you had homeless people in your neighborhood!”
Sometimes, Olympia suspected that her older sister was acting willfully ignorant and reactionary to irk her. “Anyway, if it’s for real, maybe it will help Gus get over Debbie,” she said, refusing the bait.
“She’s already over Debbie,” snapped Perri.
“Well, then, the timing is perfect.”
“She’s gay, Olympia!”
“If your story pans out, I’d have to say ‘bi.’ ”
“The guy isn’t a toxic bachelor. He’s a one-man Superfund site.”
“Ouch,” said Olympia, wondering at the violence of Perri’s reaction. Assuming the story was even true—Olympia had her doubts—was her older sister just being protective? Or was it possible that Perri was jealous of Gus? Olympia hadn’t seen Jefferson Sims in years, but he was famously handsome. Twenty years later, it was probably also safe to assume that Mike and Perri’s sex life wasn’t what it used to be. Not that Perri would ever talk about sex. She’d always been prudish that way.
“I’m sorry, it’s true!” Perri said defiantly. “We need to get Gus away from him, and fast.”
“She’s thirty-six years old, Perri,” Olympia told her. “I think she can take care of herself.”
“She’s also in a fragile state emotionally. And the guy has women coming out of his ears. What do you think he was doing in Breckenridge all year?”
“Skiing?”
“Please,” said Perri.
“Nailing half-pipes in the terrain park?”
“Very funny.”
“Anyway, we’re just walking in the door,” said Olympia. “Let me call you later.”
“Thanks for your help—not!” said Perri.
“What can I do?!” cried Olympia, turning the key in the front door. “Gus has no interest in anything I say, anyway. You’re the only one she listens to.”
“Mommy, you talk too much,” said Lola. “Get off the phone now!”
“Listen, Lola’s freaking out. I really have to go,” said Olympia, happy for once to have her daughter make demands on her time.
“Fine,” said Perri, as if it weren’t.
“I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye.”
Olympia opened the door to her apartment and flicked on the lights. At the sight of her and Lola, Clive stood up on his hind legs and let out a noise that fell somewhere between a squeak and a purr. “Hello there, bunny rabby,” said Olympia.
“He made a silly noise!” cried Lola.
As Olympia walked over to where Clive now lay and began to stroke his luscious fur, it occurred to her that he was the only male in her life on whose love she could count. Then again, she held him in captivity. By all accounts, rabbits had extremely small brains. She’d also had him castrated. Clive’s nose twitched, but for the rest of the evening he was quiet.