Sisters Don't Tell

by Deena Lipomi

  “What if he wants the baby?”

  I close my English notebook. “He doesn’t.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  I think about what Devon said, how the baby’s father might deserve to have a decision in her life. “Why would he hang up if he wanted her?” I ask.

  Annie puts her hands on her hips. “Maybe he’s afraid. Maybe he thinks I hate him and will tell him she’s already dead or something.”

  “Oh come on, Annie.”

  “What?”

  “Look, if you need someone to treat you like crap so badly, don’t go looking for Harris,” I say. “Just find Justine. She’ll be sure to do the job and you won’t have to worry about her taking your baby.”

  “What do you mean?” she asks, her eyes narrowing into a mean, scared face.

  “I mean, there are good people in your life,” I say. “Why can’t you focus on us instead of those who will hurt you?”

  I lose myself in her shining brown eyes.

  Then she turns away and slams the door behind her.

  Part III: Winter

  Chapter 22

  “Melanie?” Mom calls upstairs. “Will you come down here a minute?”

  “Hang on,” I yell back, holding up the black and silver sweater dress I bought on clearance. My other choice lies on the bed: a bright pink jersey dress I bought from the consignment shop last year. I could pair it with my black boots and shrug, Christmas gifts from Mom and Annie.

  I am so not good at dressing up.

  “Mel?” Mom calls again.

  “Coming.” I spritz vanilla body spray all over my damp skin, throw on my robe, and hurry downstairs. The dress decision will have to wait another minute.

  Of course, my parents look awesome in their New Years Eve attire, making me feel even more like I’m missing an important part of the Mainer genetic code.

  “You guys look great,” I tell them sincerely.

  Moms silver bangle earrings dance around her chin. “Thanks, Sweetie. Annie curled my hair. What do you think?”

  The one thing I did inherit from Mom was her thick hair, but tonight hers is shiny and controlled. “It looks great,” I say. The navy blue cocktail dress that she borrowed from her sister is also a hit.

  Dad hands me his point-and-shoot digital camera, one I can’t mess up, and straightens the collar on his rental tux. “Will you snap our photo?”

  Every New Years, Mom and Dad go with Aunt Hillary and Uncle Bobby to the Lymphoma Society’s Fundraiser Dinner and Ball at the Hyatt downtown on my aunt and uncle’s dime (which I guess affordable if you don’t have kids). Uncle Bobby’s little brother died of the disease so they are huge supporters of its research every year.

  “Smile,” I say. Mom and Dad hold each other close and I snap the picture. It’s nice to see them having fun after all the Annie stress these past seven months. I wonder if I’ll ever have that, a lifelong partner to stand at my side through everything.

  I wonder if I already do.

  “Be good,” Dad says, kissing the top of my head before he pulls on his wool trench coat.

  “Be safe,” Mom says, leaving lipstick on my cheek. “And remember, no having Devon inside without us here, got it?”

  I fight down the urge to tell her she’s made it more than clear. “Got it.”

  Fortunately I have another plan for Devon and I to be alone later tonight.

  My parents head out into the cold but clear night, and I head back upstairs to try on my dresses. It will be the first time Devon sees me in something other than shorts or jeans and somehow that feels important enough to make my heart beat all crazy.

  A minute later Annie wanders into my doorway while I’m in my bra and underwear.

  “Knock much?” I say.

  “The door was open.” She’s wearing a paint-splattered Art Institute sweatshirt that’s too big but conceals her belly. “Do you want me to straighten your hair?”

  I open my mouth to say no thanks, that I barely have time to get dressed, but I remember how good Mom’s hair looked. Plus Annie loves to glam up and this year she doesn’t have a reason to. For the first time in three years, Annie’s the one staying home on New Year’s Eve. The least I can do is submit my hair to her.

  “Sure,” I say, pulling on my robe. “Why not.”

  Annie plugs in the straightening iron and then pats the stool at my desk. I face the full-length mirror on the far wall. She’s only a couple inches taller than me while I’m sitting.

  “Which dress are you wearing?” she asks, combing my hair.

  “I think the silver and black one.” I say.

  “Good choice.”

  “You don’t think it makes my thighs look big?” I ask.

  Annie raises her eyebrows. “Are you serious? You want to talk about looking big?”

  I cringe as she works on a knot of frizz. “A pregnant stomach is not the same as a fat one.”

  “Oh my god, Mel. You are not fat,” she says with authority.

  “I’m not skinny,” I reply.

  “Exactly,” Annie says. “You’re perfectly proportioned. You’ve got great boobs and long legs. Girls would kill for your body.”

  “Now you sound like Kasey,” I say. Which to me means they are both just saying that to make me feel better.

  Annie tests the iron on the first lock of hair. I feel the heat near my scalp until she pulls it away and my hair straightens out like magic. She definitely has the touch.

  “What it means,” Annie says, “is that Kasey is smart. Trust me, guys care less about what size you wear than if you’re white or black or Asian. Besides,” she adds, glancing at my dress, “size twelve is not fat.”

  “I’m usually a fourteen these days,” I say just to spite her.

  “Size fourteen’s not fat either! Haven’t you read the Meg Cabot books?”

  “What?”

  Annie sighs. “Forget it. Just accept that you’re hot and stop arguing with me about it. Especially once your hair is done.”

  I ignore her demands and change the subject. “Are you sure you’ll be all right tonight?”

  “Julie’s coming over,” she says.

  Julie’s a girl she met this year in her Advanced Placement English class when they were paired together on a project or something. Fortunately, Julie doesn’t seem to mind that Annie’s pregnant and ostracized by her old friends. Maybe because Julie didn’t know her as anything but her pregnant English partner.

  When Annie’s done with my hair, it flows thick and effortlessly over my shoulders, shiny and pretty. My scalp tickles like when we braided each other’s hair as kids as she runs her fingers through it one last time.

  “What do you think?” Annie asks, arranging the front pieces around my face.

  “Thanks,” I say to my sister while gazing into the mirror. “It looks great.”

  “Sure,” Annie says. “Julie will be here soon so I’m going to order a pizza.” She heads for the door. “Have fun tonight and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  The truth is tonight is the first night I’m thinking about doing anything remotely close.

  ***

  The doorbell rings, making me jump in my bedroom although I’ve been expecting Devon for the last ten minutes. I hear Annie let him into the living room before she and Julie retreat to the basement rec room. I dot on one last dab of lip gloss and hurry downstairs.

  “Hi,” I say over the bannister, attempting to move gracefully in my kitten heeled boots.

  “Hey,” Devon says, getting up from the couch and meeting me at the bottom of the stairs. He runs his fingers through my silky hair. “Pretty.”

  “Thanks,” I say, blushing like crazy under my make-up. “You look nice, too.” He’s in a navy blue suit, grey shirt, and silky blue tie. “Did you tie your own tie?”

  “Uh, actually my dad helped.”

  That is adorable.

  “Ready for your surprise dinner?” he asks.

  “The suspense is killing
me,” I say, and give him a kiss.

  He kisses me back, his mouth warm and minty. “Maybe we should just stay here,” he mumbles into my ear.

  As much as I would love to pull him up to my bedroom and show him how much I want to be alone with him, I can’t.

  “You heard Mom’s manifesto,” I say.

  Devon groans. “Right. She used the word ‘chaste,’ didn’t she?”

  “She most certainly did.”

  Devon puts his skip cap with the pompom on top back on his head. “Then I guess we’d better stick to dinner.”

  I pull on my wool coat and agree.

  For now.

  Twenty minutes later Devon pulls into the parking lot for Bistro 101.

  “No way! You got us reservations here?” The owner has been on the food channel and I’ve been dying to try it ever since.

  “I wanted to be with you when you taste the best dinner you’ve ever had,” Devon says, carefully parking his truck. “It’ll give you something to strive for in culinary school.”

  “This means a lot from someone whose idea of fine dining includes a buffet,” I say.

  “For you, anything.” Devon leans over for a kiss and I’m glad I’m not the only one who can’t stop wanting to press our lips together.

  Until his stomach growls. Devon laughs, opens my door for me, and takes my hand as we walk into the trendy restaurant.

  At our table, Devon and I order different meals so we can taste as many dishes as possible. The succulent chicken stuffed with provolone and honey ham, creamy garlic mashed potatoes, and sautéed almond green beans are the most amazing foods I’ve tasted. I also try some of Devon’s fresh spinach pasta primavera with garlic Parmesan cheese sauce and the most perfectly al dente vegetables. I’m afraid my stomach will balloon out of my sweater dress when we’ve eaten every morsel of food on the table.

  “You look beautiful,” Devon says.

  I look up, startled to find him staring at me, a dreamy expression on his face. I hope nothing is stuck in my teeth.

  “You look pretty good yourself,” I say. Devon’s hair is combed off his forehead, making him look older than in his usual baseball hat. It scares me a little, that we’re getting closer to graduation and moving away from each other. I tuck those thoughts away and focus on how lucky I am to be sitting here under the gentle holiday music on New Year’s Eve with an awesome guy.

  “Thanks for coming here, with me, tonight,” he says, reaching across the table.

  I take his hands in mine, glad Annie convinced me to polish my nails with silver glitter. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be. Or anyone I’d rather be with,” I say, breathy and shy. These aren’t things we usually say to each other, sentimental quips or moony phrases. But they are things I think all the time.

  “You know my parents aren’t together. Obviously,” he says, rubbing my fingers nervously. “My dad, he never said nice things about relationships. Or women. My brother totally picked up on that and will probably be a bachelor for his whole life. I was afraid I’d end up like them, too,” Devon says with a laugh. “Bitter and alone even though I always pictured myself with a girlfriend. Or a wife.”

  A wife? My heartbeat kicks up a notch. We’ve certainly never talked like this before, of our future familial aspirations.

  “God, I’m saying this all wrong.” Devon reaches for his water with one hand, the condensation dripping from the glass as he drinks.

  Oh no, I must’ve looked scared that he would propose or something. I take a deep breath. “It’s OK. I know what you mean. In my family Annie was always the one with boyfriends. I never thought it would be my turn, or that anyone could see past her to me, even though I wanted – want – someone to cook for, play Scrabble with, and, you know, dissect pigs with.”

  Devon laughs and reaches across the table with both hands again. “I’m glad you’re helping to prove my family wrong about women.”

  Now I laugh. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

  “Maybe I just should’ve said, I’m really, really, really, really, really glad we’re together.”

  I squeeze his hands. “Me, too.”

  After we split a slice of flourless chocolate torte with raspberry sauce, so rich it makes me moan, Devon pays the bill and wraps his arm around me as we walk to the truck.

  “We have to do his again some time,” he says.

  “Definitely. Thank you so much for dinner. It was amazing.”

  “You’re amazing,” he says, nudging me against the truck’s door with his body so that I don’t notice the freezing wind. I kiss him back, pulling him closer and closer to my body. Snowflakes fall, but they melt from our heat before they can touch down beneath us.

  Devon pulls back my scarf and kisses my neck. I close my eyes and wish we could go back to my house or his, even though I’m also scared of what could happen. Which is the same thing that I want to happen.

  “Devon,” I whisper into the cold air above his head so my breath comes out in a wispy cloud.

  He keeps kissing my neck, my throat, tickling it with his tongue so I don’t want him to stop.

  “Devon,” I say again, using my hands to push him away instead of pull him to me now. “We should get to Kasey’s.”

  “Do we have to?” he says in a way that makes heat buzz in my chest, stomach, and below.

  I moan again, not that differently from the way the chocolate torte made me react, and it makes Devon laugh and finally pull back. I laugh, too.

  “Kasey’s expecting us soon,” I say. She has a room for us if we decide we want it, which I don’t say.

  “We will be together,” Devon says, tucking my scarf back around my neck and leaving one last peck on my nose. “When the time is right, right?”

  “Right.” My entire body is thrumming, trembling at his words. I try to control it by opening the car door and climbing inside, but it’s too late. I am out of control.

  And I like it.

  Chapter 23

  A dozen people from school are milling around the tables filled with snacks and drinks in Kasey’s basement. Kasey makes her rounds, paying particular attention to the single guys, which makes me happy. I’m glad she’s not moping about Carlos.

  “Hey, guys!” Kasey hugs me, her breath smelling of champagne. “Happy New Year! You look great!”

  “Thanks,” I say, and unwrap myself from her limbs.

  “What’s Annie up to?” she asks more quietly.

  Devon sticks his hands in his pockets and watches me.

  “Staying in with some friends,” I say.

  “I’m glad she’s made some new friends.” Kasey leans in closer. “I remember what you said that she said, about being different in this town? How it’s hard or whatever?”

  I think back to the summer, when everything was the same but different. “Yeah?”

  “She was right. It sucks.” She loops her arm through mine and pulls me into the corner of the room. “I was flirting with Zack and he was flirting back and even kissed me but then he said he likes me but he’s not attracted to me so we can only be friends. I know it’s because he doesn’t like black girls, or he thinks his family wouldn’t approve or some other crap.”

  “That does suck,” I say. “What if that’s not the real reason why? Didn’t he just break up with Laura? Maybe he’s not ready to date someone else.”

  “He’s not still in love with Laura,” Kasey says. “But he thinks she’s gor-geous. And she’s whiter than you.”

  I know it’s the champagne talking, but her words sting and I’m not sure why. I am white. Super pale white like Mom’s Nordic ancestors. I also know this isn’t about me. “Kase,” I say, “you are gorgeous.”

  She shakes her head. “No one else in this school will ever like me. You have Devon. I’ll never have a Devon.”

  I think about Annie and how a twenty-year-old guy from Albany made her feel like no one in our school could, like no one in our family could, and I hug Kasey again. “Then all those guys are losing
out. Besides, in six months, it’ll be all cultured San Diego boys for you.”

  Instead of a smile, Kasey gets totally serious. “Did Annie go for an Asian guy? Is that who the father of her baby is?”

  “You’ll have to ask her,” I say in a rush, and change the subject. “You’re worth someone who loves you no matter what.”

  Kasey nods, teary. “Sorry,” she says through a sniffle, “I’ve had a little champagne.”

  I laugh. For her that’s probably two glasses. “It’s OK.”

  “I really am happy for you and Devon,” she says.

  “I know.”

  Kasey wipes her eyes. “You can sneak up to the guest room if you decide to. I’m serious about it.”

  “Thanks.” My body tingles.

  “I need to refill the chips.”

  “Go,” I say with a laugh, and Devon replaces her at my side. I turn to him, so close that my nose touches his chin. “Sorry about the drama.”

  He takes my hand, kisses my cheek, and says, “No problem.”

  We don’t let go again for the rest of the night.

  At five to midnight, someone switches on the TV to the Times Square New Year’s Eve party and we wait for the countdown.

  “Ten…nine…eight,” Kasey yells.

  “Seven…six…five,” we all join in. “Four…three…two…happy New Year!”

  Devon pulls me to his chest and kisses me long and soft as if we aren’t surrounded by a dozen of our classmates setting off noisemakers. Confetti rains down over our heads. Through all the shouts and whoops and hollers I can barely hear Devon.

  “I love you,” he says for the first time.

  My head explodes with happiness and my heart grows. “I love you, too.”

  His head tilts and our kisses deepen. My eyes close and heat zips through my body, making my fingers and toes tingle with energy that has no way out. Devon must feel it too, because it’s like we can’t be close enough. I’m only slightly aware of our friends dancing and singing around us as a boy band takes the stage on the TV – until I get elbowed in the ribs and am torn from the moment.

  “Do you…” I start, my heart thumping as I force myself to meet Devon’s eyes. If I can’t look at him now there’s no way I can undress in front of him.