Page 64 of Fighting

With a sparkle of mischief in her eyes, she disappears.

twenty-six

Nessa

A few days later,I pull up to the curb in front of my parents’ house. As I approach, I take in the structure, noting the ways in which it has aged alongside us. The white exterior could use a fresh coat of paint, and some of the shutters are more faded than others due to their sun exposure.

We really should collect estimates and schedule painters to give it a fresh coat. I pull out my phone and add this to my ongoing to-do list called “bio family,” then slip the device back into my pocket.

I step inside just as Tal pads down the stairs dressed in jeans and a short sleeve button-down. They look fantastic and perfectly androgynous. Knowing that the conversation tonight could turn to grammar or their sudden lack of femininity, I take a moment to pump them up before things can get moving.

“Sib, that is majorly passing the vibe check. You ate this glow-up,” I say giving them a gigantic goofy smile.

“Too extra. Dial it back, sis.” They roll their eyes hard.

“It’s my job as your sisteranda millennial to be cringe,” I shout to Tal’s retreating form.

My skin prickles with irritation, but I swallow it down and take deep breaths, then continue to the dining room. I drop theapple cake with the desserts on the sideboard and head to the kitchen where I find Shae. She’s still in an oversized T-shirt and basketball shorts, with her hair a mess, as though she’s forgotten about tonight.

“Glad to see everyone is ready for dinner.” My words are a hair too sharp, causing Shae to drop the knife on the cutting board with a huff.

“Great, reinforcements are here to continue the prep. I’m going to finally shower and change.” She storms upstairs. Halfway up, she turns and shouts, “And you’re welcome for getting things started.” Then she gives me the finger.

Returning the gesture I reply, “Love you!”

The bathroom door closes with a thud, then opens again for Shae to scream, “Love you more, you pain in the?—”

“Shae Eliana Rabin!” Dad booms.

The door shuts again, louder this time, then the rush of water through the pipes sounds above me.

While Shae showers, Tal and I finish organizing the tray of veggies to roast. Dad enters the kitchen, his tall, broad frame and olive complexion as handsome as ever. And I swear there’s a bit more salt in his salt-and-pepper hair than there was the last time I saw him.

Mom enters, reading as she moves.

“Don’t you love the new series?” I ask her with a huge grin. “I just had to recommend it when I saw there was a Jewish historical romance that was set right here in Philly.”

“Kiss-ass,” Tal says under their breath as they pull down a cutting board.

Whatever, needy middle child, I scoff internally, then bask in the glowing review my mom has for the first in the duology.

As I gaze off just above her head at the variety of plants in the window, our smiles are mirrors—me because helping someone else makes me happy, hers because she’s back to reading.Watching this fills my lungs deeper than usual, and I relax into my role at home.

A short while later,as we’re readying to eat together, I stand back and watch, overcome by the mood tonight. Our house feels exactly like home should. It’s noisy, chaotic, a little disorganized. There’s gentle ribbing and frustrated outbursts; but there’s so much love.

Moving through the holiday meal preparation feels like a well-choreographed ballet—we ebb and flow between the kitchen to the dining room taking turns bringing dishes, silverware, and cups to seats.

Across the way, Shae lifts a few bottles of wine from the fridge and I attempt to watch without staring.

“We have company tonight, stop looking at me like that.” She scoffs as she moves out of my line of sight.

A few feet away, Dad wraps an arm around Mom’s shoulders and kisses her on the temple. The easy look that they share causes my palms to sweat and my lips to loosen.

“You’re both so easy-going. You make your relationship look seamless, how are we supposed to find partners who’ll help us create a family that lives up to your standard when you make it look so…so…” I wave a hand wildly, my cheeks heating.

Mom’s brow furrows, and Dad leans in to whisper something for her only. He shimmies out from around her and enters the dining room. I hear him herd my siblings away. Fuck, my throat has gone dry, and I reach to get a glass of water.

“All right, my little miracle, what’s eating you?” Mom asks.

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