Two heads swivel to face me. Charlie’s expression is carefully neutral, save for his blondish brownish eyebrows creeping up his forehead, while Jackie’s is blank but emitting a decidedly unfriendly vibe.
“No,” she says, her full lips forming the word slowly.
“All I need is a few weeks to get back on my f––”
“No.”
This is the part where I explain that all those other times I needed a helping hand Jackie was the one to offer.
“Just hear me out––”
“No.” She stuffs another piece of bagel in her mouth, head shaking rapidly. “What happened to your severance pay?”
“Bills…”
Jackie’s eyes narrow to slits. “Who did you give it to this time?”
“Mrs. Nowicki’s cat has feline leukemia and I couldn’t not help.”
Everyone has a bad habit, right? I sublet in a rent-controlled building and many of the other tenants have been there forever, most of which are north of seventy. Can I help it if I have a soft spot for old people? No, I can’t.
“You don’t even like cats,” my sister barks back.
That’s true. “But I do like Mrs. Nowicki.” My attention moves to her right and I assume my most pitiful expression. “Charlie…”
“No,” Jackie cuts in.
“Your meat puppet can speak for itself, Jacqueline.”
“Hey…” Charlie responds with literally no emotional reaction. It’s impossible to get Charlie to be anything less than absolutely chill.
“Two weeks. That’s all I need.”
Jackie chuckles sarcastically. “That’s a lie and we both know it.”
“Charlie…”
“Can’t,” he says while his eyes dart sideways to get a read on my sister.
“Why not? You have an entire she-shed”––I wave behind me to the backyard––“not serving any purpose.”
“Because I like having sex with your sister––and we call it a pool house.”
“Gross, dude. TMI.” My attention shifts back to Jackie; Charlie seems to be a lost cause. “I could help around the house. I could help with…the cat.” That sounds totally bogus to my own ears but what other choice do I have? She knows I’m a lousy cook and an even worse housekeeper.
“Like you helped when we went to Napa?” she responds without missing a beat. She’s referring to an incident with Jackie’s precious black Main Coon cat. My grandmother used to breeds these monsters and Elmo was the pick of the last litter she bred.
For the record, there’s something seriously diabolical about that cat. The damn thing has the ability to steal your soul by simply looking at you. I’m fairly certain he screws with my head for kicks.
Bottom line, the freaking cat somehow snuck out, and I spent a day and a half making up a story of how a door-to-door salesman broke in and stole him. Elmo showed up a few hours after Jackie and Charlie got home, basically giving me the finger, and my sister didn’t murder me. See? Happy ending.
“Elmo hates me. He was planning to kill me in my sleep.”
“Elmo is a cat. He doesn’t have the ability to plan––”
“Says you. I found him standing over me in the middle of the night, ready to smother me with a pillow.”
“If he wanted to smother you, he would’ve sat on your face.”
Elmo is as big as my car. She’s not exaggerating. “Please. I’m begging you. This is the last time.”
“That’s what you said last time and the time before that.”
“What are big sisters for, right?”
“For knowing when to say no. You need to go home and get your shit together. Dad needs someone to help out––Maggie is retiring. Did he tell you?” Maggie is the assistant manager of Comfort Cottages, my Dad’s hotel in the Adirondack Mountains in New York.
He might have, and I missed it.
Jackie shrugs, expression completely void of any sympathy. “It’s perfect timing.”
Yeah, no. No, it isn’t perfect at all. I hate the cold. I hate it with the burning heat of a thousand erupting volcanoes, one of the many reasons I’m happy to call Los Angeles home. My head is shaking before she utters the last vowel. “Lake Placid? Hell no.”
“Yes.”
She can’t mean it. “No, Jackie, please. I can’t go back there.” For so, so, so many reasons. My childhood was not a happy time in my life. Let’s just leave it at that.
Steely resolve shoots out of her big brown eyes and my stomach drops. Crap. That’s her courtroom look. I’d have a better chance of moving a mountain than change her mind.
“It’s too cold. You know I can’t handle the cold.”
“Dad needs help. Nan can’t move around like she used to. It’ll be good for you and them.”
She means it. I am quietly devastated. The food I just consumed sits like a ball of lead in my gut, making me queasy.
“You’re really not going to let me stay here?” It never even crossed my mind that she would refuse to help. Jackie is the one I’ve always been able to count on to come through for me.