Page 2 of The Wrong Sister

I finally find my voice. “Mina? Why are, uh, I mean, what are you doing here?”

“I’m the Child Welfare caseworker. Are you the attorney I’m supposed to be meeting with?”

“Uh, yeah. Yes. That’s me.”

I rush across the room and ignore her outstretched hand and lightly kiss her cheek before I pull her into a hug. It’s automatic, I’ve known her for most of my life—she was as much a younger sibling as my actual brother—but it turns out to be a big mistake. Touching her is too much all at once. Everything about Mina is overwhelming. She smells like something warm and herby, her skin is so soft, and she fits against me in a way that causes me to almost hop back from her, the contact and the feelings it brings up in me are that strong and unexpected. And unwelcome. What is happening to me? The last thing a child welfare hearing needs is me with a hard-on. Frantically I grasp for anything to counteract those feelings.

Kuku in a bathing suit.

My parents going at it.

Getting caught masturbating.

Shudder. Crisis averted.

“How long have you been back?” I ask, proud that I don’t choke on the words.

She starts to answer, then looks over my shoulder at the opening door. “Looks like we’re ready to start. Do you have time to get coffee or something after this?”

I should say no. It’s the safest answer and the most responsible considering where my personal life is supposed to be heading. Instead, my mouth says, “Of course.” Shit. No, it’s fine. It’s only dinner with a current colleague and old friend-ish-type-female. That’s barely even a thing. It would be rude if I had said no, given our history. There. I cleared that quite nicely.

This round of mediation goes well. As well as all parties can hope. The young mom, faced with having her toddler removed from her care because of substance abuse, is fully on board with entering a recovery program, and her son has been placed with her parents for the time being. No one is contesting the charges. Everyone is doing everything they can to make sure mom ends up in the best possible position to get her son back. I love when cases go this way. Mina will continue to work closely with the mom and guardians. We’ll all meet again when her program has been completed. I’m cautiously optimistic. There are still a lot of opportunities for things to go wrong, but it’s too hard to do this job without some hope. Working with child welfare cases can be very emotionally draining. It makes resolutions like this even more rewarding.

Contrary to what public opinion can say, we’re not the bad guys. Our first choice is never to separate families. We always want families to stay together and for kids to be with their loved ones. It’s not easy having a job where you need to step in for a child’s safety and well-being, but sometimes it’s absolutely necessary. A toddler doesn’t need to be in a home where mom is so high she forgets he’s there. Ultimately though, my job is not to judge her or push for punishment. I don’t deal with criminal charges, I’m solely there to give the families legal advice and make sure that they know all their rightswhiletheir child is being cared for. Mina’s job is much harder. She’s the one doing the investigating, conducting interviews, advocating for the children, and making decisions on behalf of Child Welfare Services. It’s a tough job and I’m impressed with her poise.

I pack my briefcase and wait by the door, trying not to stare at Mina the way I did before I knew who she was. It’s more difficult than it should be, like the switch only works one way. I can’t turn it back off. It’s important that she goes back to being little Mina from across the street. Not…this. She crackles with vitality, her beauty a physical force. I don’t need to be noticing that. I don’t need that.

Stowing everything in her large bag, she joins me at the door, suggesting a diner nearby as she barrels past, on the move. Mina in her twenties walks exactly like teenage Mina, with purpose and energy. She has to take two strides for every one of mine, but she keeps up easily, treading with confidence, her shoulders back and her head up. She charges the sidewalks like a city girl, not one who spent most of her growing years on the laid-back windward side of O‘ahu. She leads the way into the diner and it feels like I’m helplessly pulled in her wake.

Now that I’m smelling food I remember how hungry I am. Stupid off schedule, messing everything up. “I haven’t had lunch yet, do you mind if I eat?”

“That was my plan as well.” Mina jumps in the moment the waitress walks up. “Rueben with fries and a coffee malt, please.”

“That sounds good, I’ll have the same thing, thanks.” I eye her across the table, giving up on not staring. Unsurprisingly, she starts the conversation. Mina never was one to sit back and observe.

“How long have you been back home?”

“A couple of years. I came home after I finished law school. How long have you been back?” I stretch out my legs and unintentionally run my bare ankle along hers, her skin cool and silky. This is exactly why I should have said no.

“A little over six months. I finished up my master’s and came back to get licensed here. My mom said you were in Chicago before?”

“Yeah, I went to DePaul University College of Law. I was impressed with their family law field clinic and wanted to be a part of it. Did I hear that you ended up in New York?”

“Yep.” She doesn’t elaborate.

“How did you choose that?”

The uncomfortable expression doesn’t sit right on her. “I wanted to get away. I needed to be someplace I could be more thanCatherine’s sister.” The mention of Catherine makes me grimace internally. Possibly externally too. Mina now has a little wrinkle between her sharp eyebrows. “I didn’t want to go to UH and have to balance our closeness with how I always seemed to end up in her shadow. I wanted a chance for our relationship to grow without me ruining things by being jealous and childish. Once I decided to go to the mainland, even the West Coast felt too close. I needed a complete change—a busy city, lots of people, a million opportunities to see art and hear music and experience things. I went to Columbia and absolutely loved my time in the city.”

“You look like a New Yorker now. Why did you leave?”

“I always intended to come back home. Living in the city made moving back here less of a shock financially, now that I’m on my own. Did you always know you wanted to pursue family law?” She answers and asks questions rapid-fire like I’m being interviewed. It makes me nervous.Shemakes me nervous.

I nod. “Did you always want to go into social work?”

“You probably don’t remember hearing about when Mom got reported for neglect and child endangerment, do you?”

“What?” I yell out, immediately embarrassed by the outburst. “Sorry.” The idea of Auntie ever being accused of that is ridiculous. Mina and I are not related. It’s an island thing. Elders are Auntie and Uncle and it’s not a habit I can break. I did, however, manage to use it less while on the mainland after an embarrassing incident in college. College guys are ruthless, even if their hot moms think you calling them ‘Auntie’ is adorable.

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