“That’s not what I mean.”
Oh. She means the first time I had a run-in with spiders.
Lamely, I pat her shoulder. “Wasn’t your fault you couldn’t be there.”
“I hate that I missed out so much when you were little. I never thought much about it until recently, but it had to suck to not have Mom and Dad around like I did. And then Abuelita died, and I know she meant the world to you.”
At the mention of my grandmother, I tear up and decide we cannot continue talking about this. There’s no need to make her feel worse when she was a kid herself at the time. “Don’t beat yourself up, hermana. You’re already my hero.” Truly, she’s everything I want to be when I grow up some day.
Wanting to change the subject, I blurt out something that’s been on my mind before we both need therapy for our childhood.
“Can we get back to Ethan?” I can’t believe I haven’t asked her this before. “What was he like with his wife? Did you know Allison?”
She sits back and hums thoughtfully. “Not well. They came over a couple of times when we had our farmers’ fair, but she was always distant. Even with him. Definitely with the children. She never struck me as being particularly maternal. Not that someone can’t grow into the role of being a mom, but she always looked so irritated. Made me sad for Ethan and the kids. But when we’d invite them for dinner, he came by himself. And you could see he was trying to make her happy, but nothing seemed to please that woman.”
Twin vines of relief and jealousy sprout in me. Not that I wish Ethan or his children any pain, but it’s hard to think of him with his wife. Though it’s silly of me to want any of his firsts. He married her first. Had kids with her first. Lived his life with her first. Loved her first. My heart wallows in that thought.
If there’s any silver lining, it’s that they didn’t complement each other well. “So you weren’t surprised they were getting a divorce?”
“No way. I thought the writing was on the wall long before he told us she left him.”
Wait. What?
Hold up. Hold the fuck up.
She left him?
Why was I thinking he had filed for divorce? Especially after how she treated him?
“Are you sure? She left him?”
“Oh, yeah. He tried to get her to reconsider for months. Maybe that’s why it took so long to finalize the divorce.”
That shouldn’t change anything. Shouldn’t make me question what Ethan and I have developed, but my delicate heart doesn’t like this revelation one bit.
My sister must see the apprehension in my eyes because she shakes her head. “Do not freak out about Allison. She’s history, but since you asked, I wanted you to know that Ethan is the kind of guy who isn’t going to jerk you around. Look at how hard he tried to make his horrible marriage work.”
Okay, she makes a good point.
But something about the morning Allison found us in the truck niggles in the back of my mind.
For a woman who seemed apathetic during her marriage, she sure lost her shit to see her ex had moved on.
And that has me worried.
My sister conks out on the couch in a puddle of drool as soon as I’m done with her pedicure, but I don’t want to leave before she wakes up, so I cover her with a light blanket, do a load of her laundry, and fold a million adorable green and yellow infant outfits. She’s such a wench to make me wait to find out the sex of her baby!
I’m still folding clothes when two fuzzy arms wrap around my legs, and I whirl around with a muffled scream.
“Bandit, you scared the shit out of me!” I whisper-yell.
My sister’s pet raccoon holds up his little arms like a toddler even though he’s ancient in raccoon years.
“You are so spoiled.” I pick him up, settle in the rocking chair, and pat his fat butt while he snuggles against me. “Have you been a good boy? Hmm? I don’t think you’ll be allowed in the nursery once the baby arrives.”
Sighing, I mull over everything my sister told me this morning about Allison even though I know I should put it out of my mind. But how can I? I want to analyze it from every angle so I know what I’m getting myself into. Though it’s not like I can backpedal. I’m already in too deep, which is all the more reason to guard myself against that woman. How could Allison leave Ethan and those two precious children? I want to throttle her on their behalf.
Kat waddles into the doorway and smiles sleepily. “Sorry I passed out, manita.”
“No worries. You’re gestating. You need rest.”
“Want some lunch? I’m starving.”
I don’t point out that we ate not two hours ago. “No, I should probably get going soon, but I’ll be back tomorrow so we can shop for the nursery. Want me to make you a sandwich before I go?”
A huge smile lights her face. “You’re my favorite sister.”
“I’m your only sister,” I say, smiling at our familiar lines.
One second she’s laughing and then she’s hunched over in pain.
“What’s wrong?” I shoo Bandit off me and fly across the room.
“Just Braxton Hicks contractions. Nothing to worry about.”
I lead her over to the rocking chair and help her sit. “What can I get you? Some water? A heating pad? Should I call Brady?” Like a splash of cold water in my face, I feel like an idiot for not knowing more about her pregnancy. For not having researched all the potential problems or complications. She asked me to be close this summer for the baby, and all this time I’ve been obsessing over my own love life.
With a grimace, she waves me off. “No, no. Don’t bother him. He hasn’t seen his parents all week. Let them have their time.”
My sister is the most selfless person I know. If she could have this baby in her bathroom without putting anyone out, she would. I’ll text Brady just in case. He’d want me to. I also make a mental note to read up on the ins and outs of what my sister can expect during the last few weeks of her pregnancy.
I stay with her for a bit, rubbing her back to make sure she’s comfortable.
“Hey, speaking of parents, have you heard from ours?” I ask, because I haven’t in ages. I’d wanted to ask earlier today but since we got emotional, I figured I should table the topic.
“I swear they call me every other day. They’re so excited about this child.” She laughs and rubs her belly that undulates under her floral muumuu. “Oh! The baby is moving. Feel it.” Grabbing my hand, she places it on her tummy, and I smile even though I’m still bummed out about our parents.
Sure, at the beginning of the summer, I was reluctant to talk to them because I was afraid I’d get the usual lecture about not screwing up a new job, but when they never called, I can’t deny I was disappointed.
Deep down, I get this is all residual psychological bullshit from my childhood. My parents took Kat—not me—and left South Texas for months at a time while they did their best to get whatever migrant farm jobs they could. It may be irrational, but every now and again I feel like the kid they forgot about. Granted, they eventually found permanent jobs in Corpus, and we were able to settle down, but that doesn’t erase those early memories.