Page 29 of The List
My sisters stop by later that night. I’d asked them to come, but still. I’m never quite braced for how they overwhelm any room they march into with their startling efficiency and clouds of expensive perfume.
“Cassie,” Missy says, squeezing my hand. I’m relieved to see she’s abandoned the double-cheek-kiss habit she picked up in Europe last month. “So good to see you.”
“I brought the exercise ball you asked for,” Lisa says. “They were selling them in the gift shop at the country club, so I bought you one of your very own instead of lending you mine again.”
“That’s so thoughtful,” I tell her, accepting the flowery gift bag with a little orange ribbon tied to the handle.
“Yes, well, I was excited when you said you wanted to try Pilates,” Lisa says. “For real this time, instead of having kinky sex on it like you did before.”
Both sisters giggle, and I feel a sharp stab of guilt. When they first showed me how to lie back on the oversized exercise ball for a series of ab exercises, I was intrigued. Then they dragged me to their prissy gym filled with immaculately-coiffed trophy wives and supermodel soccer moms, and all I could think about was fleeing the place as fast as possible.
Or fucking someone on the ball. That’s where the fantasy started.
But since I didn’t have anyone to partner with on that endeavor, I borrowed Lisa’s ball for a few halfhearted ab crunches at home. I popped it by accident when I left it sitting too close to my iron, then made up the sex story to avoid a sisterly lecture on proper ironing techniques.
“Thank you,” I tell my sister as I set the gift bag aside and give Lisa a hug. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“I don’t suppose you have any lavender lemonade?” Missy asks.
“No.” I try not to grit my teeth. “No lavender lemonade. How about wine, beer, or water?”
“Perrier?” Lisa asks hopefully.
“No,” I tell her. “Water. Like from the tap. Portland has some of the best drinking water in the country. I can even add ice to it if you like.”
My sisters exchange a look, and I can’t tell if it’s disdain for my drink selection or a silent observation that Cassie is being “that way” again. I’m never entirely sure what “that way” is, except that it’s not their way.
The story of my life.
“We’re fine, thanks,” Missy says. “Actually, we just wanted to make sure you’re still up for our girls’ wine getaway in a few weeks. We know you have a lot of travel scheduled for fieldwork, so we were afraid you might bail.”
“The girls’ getaway,” I repeat. “Right. Of course. I’m looking forward to it.”
Or I forgot about it. There’s no way I’m admitting that, though. I guess I’ve been a little busy, what with all the plant-soil microbe research and kinky sex.
“I’m so excited for it to be just the three of us,” Lisa says. “No parents, no friends, no men.”
“And it’s our treat,” Missy says. “For your early birthday present.”
“Wow,” I say, taken aback by their generosity. “That’s really sweet. I’m touched.”
“Excellent!” Missy claps her hands together. “We can get pedicures together and maybe do a little shopping to get you some decent clothes. Something that doesn’t go with work boots.”
Lisa beams and nods in agreement. “Maybe a pretty sleeveless dress. Now that you have the workout ball, maybe you’ll get toned enough that you’ll want to let your arms show.”
I resist the urge to bristle, or to point out that some women have more pressing priorities than how their triceps look in a cocktail dress. The jab that maybe wasn’t even a jab leaves me edgy, and I find myself resorting to a familiar line of defense.
Leaning back against my sofa table, I fold my arms over my chest. “Did I tell you about this new guy I’m sleeping with?”
They give a scandalized gasp, which is exactly what I was aiming for. I may not be the sort of girly-girl my sisters want me to be, but I can damn sure show them I’m more than grubby work boots and dirty fingernails.
“Another man?” Lisa asks. “Honestly, Cassie.”
But she’s smiling when she says it. She steps a little closer, and her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper that’s completely unnecessary considering we’re the only three people in my house.
“Tell us all about him,” Lisa murmurs. “What’s he like?”
“Tall, dark, and handsome,” I rattle off before realizing even if it’s a cliché, that’s Simon to a tee. “And hot. Really hot. Definitely into—experimentation.”
