Page 25 of The List
“Medical,” I decide. “Wouldn’t they make a screw joke otherwise?”
“Good point,” she says. “How about ‘best value for the money’?”
“Sex toy. I can appreciate budget-conscious kink.” I don’t say anything else, hopeful that solidifies her belief I’m just an average Joe with a less-than-impressive bank account. I keep scrolling, enjoying the easy banter between us.
“How about this one that says, ‘Broke five minutes after using.’”
“Tough call,” she says. “Maybe medical use on that one. Then again, I could see the sex toy user being the one to apply a little too much pressure.”
“You notice some of the ‘also purchased’ items at the bottom?” I ask. “Looks like polypropylene rope, leather floggers, and coconut oil are popular accompaniments.”
“So is a UV sanitizing wand and this really expensive eye cream.”
“For people who squeeze their eyes shut during kinky sex, but don’t want wrinkles?” I suggest.
She bursts out laughing, and I realize this is becoming my favorite sound in the world. Even more than the sound of Cassie screaming my name when she comes.
“Tell you what,” I say. “There’s a pretty good adult store a few blocks from your apartment. How about I swing by and grab a Wartenberg wheel that we know is meant for our intended purposes.”
“You mean right now?”
“Sure,” I say, then realize I’m being a presumptuous asshole. “If you’re free, I mean.”
She hesitates a few beats, and I’m opening my mouth to suggest another day when she replies. “I can’t do it tonight,” she says. “I have to go to a baby shower for my sister’s best friend.”
“A baby shower?”
There’s something hilarious about the idea of Cassie chatting me up about kink while she’s getting ready for a baby shower, but I realize she’s not laughing.
“Yeah,” she says. “It’s this ‘all-white’ themed shower my sister’s been planning for months. Apparently white symbolizes goodness, innocence, and purity.”
The glum note is unmistakable in Cassie’s voice, and I’m not sure how to respond to that. “You have to go?”
“I do. I’m supposed to help Lisa polish the white porcelain serving dishes so she can set out all kinds of white candy. And then I’ll help blow up a bunch of white balloons and string up white streamers so we can all ooh and ahh over them while we eat our white cake over a table covered with a white tablecloth.”
“This is sounding very?—”
“Pretentious?”
“I was trying to come up with a less judgmental word, but yeah. I guess that’s it.”
“They don’t mean it to be,” she says. “It’s just how they are. It’s just what they’re into.”
“So, you can’t blow it off?”
“No. I want to help. I promised I would, even though it’s not really my scene. Besides, my sister loaned me her car two weeks ago when mine was being serviced. I owe her a favor.” She hesitates, and I listen to the silence, wondering if she’s about to change her mind.
But that’s not what’s going on in Cassie Michaels’s head.
“I really do love them,” she says at last. “They’re a challenge sometimes, but my sisters are the best people I know. They’d each give me a kidney if I needed one, and I’d do the same for them.”
“Ah. That makes sense.”
And it does. I consider telling her about Junie. About how I started the WorkAbility program so adults with disabilities—people just like Junie—could have opportunities to be productive. To know they have value in society.
But I clamp my mouth shut and bite back the words. I can’t afford to go there. I don’t mean financially, though money is certainly a factor. It’s been a factor in every relationship I’ve had, starting when the woman realizes I’m stupidly wealthy, and ending when she discovers life with me won’t be like an episode of the Kardashians.
I don’t say any of this to Cassie. Instead, I offer up a perfectly bland remark. “Sibling relationships are complicated.”
