ugly breakup with my first boyfriend that I even thought about how painful and heartbreaking it was to have someone you love say “no thank you.” But it never occurred to me to question the timing of winning the lottery and Natasha’s bad breakup.
“A deal works both ways,” I say, pretending this is real, pretending what she said could be true. “What did you promise?”
“I promised that I would do what he asked,” she says, taking a shaky breath. “One thing. Whenever he asked it.” She swipes at her cheeks, smearing the black lines across her face. It is surreal to see my perfect sister ruined with tears and paint.
“That’s pretty open-ended,” I say. What could she possibly do for a Mafia hacker that was worth millions?
“I told him I wouldn’t do anything that hurt our family or anyone we knew.” She crosses her arms defensively.
“And when is … is …” It’s hard to say it out loud. Like a joke. “… is this hacker person getting his one favor?”
“He just did,” she says, her skin matching her dress as she swallows convulsively, greasy with a film of sweat. “He cashed in his chip this morning.”
A nervous tremor runs through me despite my skepticism. “What did he want?”
“It’s none of your business,” my sister says in an empty voice. She turns away, returning to her earlier position, back to the door, hunched over her desk, her vertebrae jutting in a skeletal column through skin and indecipherable Japanese characters. “Get rid of that money, Leni.”
I walk over and place a hand on her back. Her skin is oddly chilled and clammy.
“Natasha, what hap—”
“Get rid of it, Lenore,” she snaps as she turns to me, her spittle flying and hitting my face. I stumble back. “It’s got blood on it.” She touches a hand to her lips, as if to take back the words, but I see the truth in her eyes.
“Natasha,” I whisper. “What did you do?”
But she won’t say anything else.
As they left the shop behind, she couldn’t shake off the uneasy feeling lurking heavy in her chest. She checked on the baby, lifting the canopy for a quick peek, to see that sweet little sleeping face again. To make sure she was okay
.
Motherhood had had all sorts of surprises for her. The fierce mama-bear love, the constant need to see the baby, to hold her, to feel her tiny chest rising and falling, was a huge one. Sometimes she would slip out of bed at night and creep down the hall, only to ease down silently next to the crib and watch the baby in the dim light from the blue-moon night-light
.
She glanced at Craig: husband, father, laid-off accountant
.
He wore his now-familiar look of stress and worry. Everything had happened together. The baby was born and a month later, Craig was out of a job. They had said it was a blessing; he could spend this time with his new daughter. So many fathers didn’t. They figured he’d find something within a couple of months, and it was wonderful to have another set of hands when spit-up came out of one end while the other end squirted impossibly foul matter and the baby screamed like someone was performing surgery without anesthesia on her. They’d laughed in drunken, sleep-deprived jags, going through baby boot-camp together, and she’d pitied other couples who missed out on this. Gazing over their sleeping newborn together, melting over those fleeting, toothless sleep-smiles
.
Except the weeks turned to months and there were no interviews, no job offers. Craig began applying for jobs below his previous level, willing to take salary cuts. And still, no job offers. It wasn’t about them anymore. They were parents now. It left her with a hollow feeling of panic. What kind of parents can’t provide for their child? Even though they’d agreed she’d stay at home for at least a year, she started submitting her résumé, not that she had any better luck. They even discussed moving in with his parents, just until one of them found a job. When
“A deal works both ways,” I say, pretending this is real, pretending what she said could be true. “What did you promise?”
“I promised that I would do what he asked,” she says, taking a shaky breath. “One thing. Whenever he asked it.” She swipes at her cheeks, smearing the black lines across her face. It is surreal to see my perfect sister ruined with tears and paint.
“That’s pretty open-ended,” I say. What could she possibly do for a Mafia hacker that was worth millions?
“I told him I wouldn’t do anything that hurt our family or anyone we knew.” She crosses her arms defensively.
“And when is … is …” It’s hard to say it out loud. Like a joke. “… is this hacker person getting his one favor?”
“He just did,” she says, her skin matching her dress as she swallows convulsively, greasy with a film of sweat. “He cashed in his chip this morning.”
A nervous tremor runs through me despite my skepticism. “What did he want?”
“It’s none of your business,” my sister says in an empty voice. She turns away, returning to her earlier position, back to the door, hunched over her desk, her vertebrae jutting in a skeletal column through skin and indecipherable Japanese characters. “Get rid of that money, Leni.”
I walk over and place a hand on her back. Her skin is oddly chilled and clammy.
“Natasha, what hap—”
“Get rid of it, Lenore,” she snaps as she turns to me, her spittle flying and hitting my face. I stumble back. “It’s got blood on it.” She touches a hand to her lips, as if to take back the words, but I see the truth in her eyes.
“Natasha,” I whisper. “What did you do?”
But she won’t say anything else.
As they left the shop behind, she couldn’t shake off the uneasy feeling lurking heavy in her chest. She checked on the baby, lifting the canopy for a quick peek, to see that sweet little sleeping face again. To make sure she was okay
.
Motherhood had had all sorts of surprises for her. The fierce mama-bear love, the constant need to see the baby, to hold her, to feel her tiny chest rising and falling, was a huge one. Sometimes she would slip out of bed at night and creep down the hall, only to ease down silently next to the crib and watch the baby in the dim light from the blue-moon night-light
.
She glanced at Craig: husband, father, laid-off accountant
.
He wore his now-familiar look of stress and worry. Everything had happened together. The baby was born and a month later, Craig was out of a job. They had said it was a blessing; he could spend this time with his new daughter. So many fathers didn’t. They figured he’d find something within a couple of months, and it was wonderful to have another set of hands when spit-up came out of one end while the other end squirted impossibly foul matter and the baby screamed like someone was performing surgery without anesthesia on her. They’d laughed in drunken, sleep-deprived jags, going through baby boot-camp together, and she’d pitied other couples who missed out on this. Gazing over their sleeping newborn together, melting over those fleeting, toothless sleep-smiles
.
Except the weeks turned to months and there were no interviews, no job offers. Craig began applying for jobs below his previous level, willing to take salary cuts. And still, no job offers. It wasn’t about them anymore. They were parents now. It left her with a hollow feeling of panic. What kind of parents can’t provide for their child? Even though they’d agreed she’d stay at home for at least a year, she started submitting her résumé, not that she had any better luck. They even discussed moving in with his parents, just until one of them found a job. When
Similar Books
