Dirty Talk (Get Dirty 1)

She smiles triumphantly and I realize I walked right into her trap. Dammit, that’s what I get for being the little sister. “So moved on to . . . who? What’s his name?”

I give in. Besides, I kind of want to tell her anyway. “His name is Derrick, he’s a radio personality. That’s actually how we met, but it’s not serious. We’ve just . . . chatted a bunch, and we had our first official date yesterday. So it’s all super new.”

I’m relieved when she gloms on to the date part and doesn’t question my stutter as I described our late-night phone proclivities as ‘chatting,’ or to Derrick’s job. I mean, how do I explain to my sister that her nerdy, seemingly straight-laced little sister is dating a sex advice expert?

“First date?” Jessie asks, leaning far enough forward that she’s invading my personal bubble. “Oh my gosh, so how was it? Are you going to see him again? When?”

She’s almost jumping up and down in her chair as she lobs questions at me faster than I can answer them. It’s joyful to watch, and I laugh at her excitement, forgetting my nervousness a little. “It was great, yes, and tonight.”

She squeals, making a sound I haven’t heard since . . . well, since about the time she got that fan form-letter from Justin Timberlake back when she was in high school. “Tonight!!!! Oh, my gawd!”

As she’s still buzzing, our mom steps out of the dressing room behind Jessie. I’m breathless as I take her in, stunning in a soft ivory floor-length gown covered with lace and beading. Jessie sees my face and whirls around, her jaw dropping in shock too. “Well girls,” Mom asks, “what’s the verdict?”

“Mom, you look gorgeous,” I tell her truthfully, stepping forward and taking her hands. “Truly. Bob is going to forget his vows when he sees you walking toward him.” I mime a fish mouth opening and closing. “The whole church is going to see him rendered speechless.”

She laughs lightly, smoothing invisible wrinkles in the dress. “Really? You think it’s all right?”

Jessie and I look at each other and then back at her, shaking our heads before Jess speaks up. “No, Mom. It’s not all right. It’s amazing.”

We walk around her, taking in all the little details of the dress while Jessie, who’s always been the fashionista of our little duo, gives a rundown. “It hugs your hips just right, not so tight you can’t sit down, but tight enough to show your curves.”

I have to chime in something, so I blurt the first thing that comes out of my mouth. “And the girls look va-voom! Thanks for the good genetics there, Mom.”

Probably not the smoothest line that’s ever been said, but Mom laughs, posing and visibly more confident in her dress. “Thanks, girls. I don’t know what I’d do without you two here for this.”

Her eyes fill with tears as she pulls us in for a tight three-way hug. After a moment, she giggles, letting go. “Okay, enough of that. You two are going to get makeup on my dress and I can’t have that.”

We step back, standing behind her as she looks in the mirror at herself, but she seems to be talking to us.

“I never thought I’d do this again. Your father . . . well, he really did a number on me. You know I don’t like to talk bad about him because he’s your father, and we did have a lot of good years together. But there at the end, it wasn’t pretty. I hope I protected you from most of that.”

We nod, knowing that she’d done her best, but Jessie and I spent many evenings curled up in the same bed as they’d fought, our mother’s screams and our father’s booming yells the soundtrack more than once. We hugged each other to sleep on too many occasions to be completely fooled by her comfortable lie.

She never told us, but we knew he’d been cheating, had heard her accusations, his denials, and his eventual admissions but always with some justifying reason why it was Mom’s fault he had to resort to that. Even when she would take him back, we didn’t understand why, but in some ways it was nice . . . at least we had peace and quiet again, and a comfortable normality to things. But it tore us apart.

It’s why when she finally had had enough and divorced him, we supported her and cut him out of our lives. Dad didn’t understand at first, thinking we didn’t know about his affairs and that Mom had poisoned us against him. The emails and even calls from his lawyer as they dealt with the divorce lasted for months, until Jessie had been the mature one to tell him that we knew, we didn’t approve, and to never contact us again.