Page 7 of The Wrong Sister

My mind is reeling. The expectations keep piling up and my visions of a cool, carefree high school experience are blowing out the window, the seat where the imaginary girl was sitting now occupied by a stack of books. Fun and the steady reliability needed for this don’t go hand in hand. I know how hard my parents work to keep us here. They think we don’t see how thin the budget is stretched, how Mom is always picking up extra shifts at the hospital, how they’re always doing without while making sure we’re covered. I know we could have an easier life if they chose to leave the island. But they’re committed to raising us at home.

I can’t waste the opportunities they’ve given me. If they have these big goals for me, I need to have the costs taken care of, on my own. There is no way my parents can afford to pay for college, let alone law school. But if I need it, I know they’ll do everything in their power to help. I can’t be the thing that makes them leave here. I have to be smart about this. About everything. I should be focusing more on my grades. It’s time to make a plan for what I need to accomplish over the next few years. I should talk to the guidance counselor about scholarships, start researching schools, and figure out where my scholarship dollars can do the most. There are boxes I need to be ticking.

All those previous fantasies of free time with some pretty girl evaporate like sea spray. I don’t have time for that. I don’t have time for any of the things I was picturing. If I’m going to be who my parents are hoping I’ll be, I’ve got my work cut out for me. I’m sure there will be time to loosen up, to have fun, to date the pretty girl,afterI’ve reached my goals. After I’ve become the man they need me to be, without bankrupting them or forcing them to leave our home for more affordable pastures.

6

griffin

Work has been busy, I haven’t had much time to think about Mina, thankfully. It’s already fucking infuriating how often I do. Any time a memory of the way she looked in that skirt pops up, unasked for, I turn my thoughts to Catherine. No matter what my traitor body is trying to do to me, Catherine is who I should be thinking about. She’s the right choice, my type even. She fits within this life’s expectations. Things with Catherine have always felt easy. Safe. We’re both serious, dependable, and a little more focused on meeting expectations. I know what to expect with Catherine. That’s why, after Mina stomped out of the diner, I started making plans for dinner on Friday. I’m not going to sit by and let things slide out of my control.

The next day I call Catherine during my lunch hour and invite her to go out. She agrees to meet me there. We should probably talk about what we’re doing. Define the parameters. It has felt like a strange, in-between place because we have so much history. I need to make my intentions known: that this is a real, dating relationship and not a couple of old friends occasionally hanging out. We can do that at dinner. It’s the next logical step.

Friday evening I inspect the clothes I wore to work, trying to decide which direction to go for the date. I don’t want to go too casual, but it doesn’t feel right being in lawyer mode either. I don’t think this should be as hard as it seems to be for me. I wish I could have a week’s worth of identical clothes so I’d never have to think about what to wear again. There’s too much pressure, too many opportunities to mess it up and miss giving the right impression.

I decide to keep the flat-front slacks but swap my button-down shirt for a soft, fitted t-shirt. I’ve got a bit of a five o’clock shadow going but I don’t feel like shaving. That will take time I don’t have, push the walk over to a possible jog, then I’ll have to be concerned about being sweaty on top of everything else. As long as I don’t think about being unkempt, it won’t bother me. Too much.

Even though I’ve known Catherine for years, this all feels new and unfamiliar, two things I hate, two things that can’t be trusted. I walk over to SALT at Our Kaka‘ako, a shopping center with restaurants, bars, and cool shops, to meet her. Not shaving allows me to arrive a little early to get our name down and cut down on our wait. Catherine arrives at six on the dot. “Island time” is not in her vocabulary either. I tick a mental box in her favor as we lean in for a traditional cheek kiss greeting.

I walk behind her, my hand on the small of her back. It doesn’t feel natural. I feel like I’m playing a role and it’s putting me on edge. It was easier with Catherine before—before that time I will not allow myself to revisit. I have to remind myself to be attentive. It shouldn’t be this much work, should it? I push the thought away. It’s probably because I’m out of practice. And it is in no way significant that the timing of this unease coincides with Mina reentering my life. We stop and place our order at the long bar and head to a table. Catherine is at least 5’8” and she looks long and willowy. She’s a lot taller than Mina. Not that I’m thinking about Mina. I’m not. That would be a mistake. I’m on a date with Catherine, exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Catherine prefers what she calls a bohemian style. That means nothing to me, but those were the words she used when I awkwardly tried to compliment her loose dress. It’s a soft blue color and her long, golden-brown hair is shining in waves over her shoulders. It’s sort of…artistic. Visually, we don’t really give off the same vibe. Odd since she’s equally studious and focused on her job. But Catherine doesn’t have any sharp edges. I can’t even put my finger on what about it is bothering me. All I know is I can’t tell if a box can be checked or not and I hate leaving things unfinished. I guess I’ll be adding that to the things that are irritating me tonight.

She and Mina have the same nose and lips, but Catherine has wide blue eyes. Everything about her is graceful. Ladylike. I pull out her chair and sit opposite her. She’s talking about work. She looks animated and excited about whatever accounting thing she’s sharing, but I’m struggling to pay attention. I’ve never been a numbers guy and I have no idea why anyone would think dealing with other people’s accounts would be enjoyable. I need to try harder to get my head in the game here. This is Catherine. We’re on a real date. Now is not the time to zone out. Our waiter keeps eyeing her appreciatively and that helps me refocus. Catherine is a beautiful woman. I am lucky to be here with her, I need to act like it.

Our drinks arrive and Catherine samples her mai tai, licking the sweet lilikoi foam off her rosy lips. It’s an unintentionally sexy move and the waiter is clearly into it. What is wrong with me? I should be aching to lick that foam off for her instead of being mildly irritated that she managed to get it all over her upper lip while drinking. I take a sip of my Moscow mule and exhale. I feel off, that’s all. Probably the long work week getting to me. I look up pointedly at the waiter, who is still watching Catherine. He looks guilty and scurries away and following his motion leads me to a familiar sight in the doorway. I’m about to gesture my brother over to say hi, but then he ushers Mina in with his hand on her. His fingers, stretched across her back, leave a hot flame of jealousy burning in my chest. Which is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. I’m here with Catherine. I chose Catherine. My brother can date whoever he wants. I have no right to be annoyed. I am though. Really fucking annoyed. Looks like that’s my thing tonight.

Rafferty turns heads wherever he goes. We’re the same height, 6’3,” but he’s broad and muscular. I’m not weak, but Raff is a personal trainer and his body is his business card. He paints though and has this unique gym-rat-surfer-artist vibe. I have no idea why it works, but it does. Women eat it up. His long blonde hair is up in a messy knot but his beard is neatly trimmed. He has on a tank top that shows off his cut muscles and tattoos and it’s humorous to watch heads swivel with interest as he walks by. It’s kind of a waste because he doesn’t even appreciate the attention. Right now all of his focus is on the petite beauty next to him. They don’t see us, sitting at a table right in their line of sight, because they’re both entirely absorbed in each other. They stop and order at the counter, talking animatedly and pointing at the menu. Rafferty is bent low so their shoulders are pressed together. When they’re done they turn and pick a table on the other side. Now I can see them, but they never saw us. Awkward.

“What are you looking at?” Catherine asks me, drawing my attention back to my own table and date. She swivels around in her chair. “Oh, right. I forgot they were coming over here. Not that I knew they were cominghere, but this area in general.”

“You knew they were coming to SALT tonight?”

“Well, sure. If we didn’t make plans I was invited to join them.”

“I didn’t realize you guys hung out.”

“I wouldn’t saywehang out, but Minaismy sister. We talk all the time and try to see each other at least once a week. You don’t do that with your brother?” She tilts her head with curiosity while nibbling the pineapple slice that garnished her glass.

“Not that formally, but yes. We text regularly and see each other. We don’t have a set brother time or anything. But yeah, we do get together.”

“Should we say hi? Invite them over?”

“No! No, I, uh, I don’t want to interrupt.”

I suppose now is as good a time as any to discuss what we’re doing. I’m struggling a little to remember why it seemed important to me, though. My eyes keep going back to Mina. She has on a sleeveless blouse that is tucked into high-waisted, loose trousers. I don’t even understand how she manages to look both professional and powerful, but also really fucking sexy. I idly wonder if she has a tailor. It can’t be easy to dress the way she does when she’s so petite. I’m in the process of pulling out my phone, intending to text her my tailor’s info when I stop myself.What the fuck, Griffin?I’m a mess.I still haven’t said anything new to Catherine when Raff sees me and waves. I raise my hand in return and Mina turns to look behind her, catching my eye. I can’t interpret her look. Or maybe I merely don’t want to. There’s some sort of simmering anger there. I don’t like how it makes me feel.

It probably sounds ridiculous coming from a lawyer, but I hate arguments. One could say that’s all I do professionally, but I don’t see it that way. I do work to prove a point, but the point is removed from me. It’s literally someone else’s problem. Also, I’m presenting information that I have studied exhaustively. Arguing a case in court feels completely different from having a beautiful woman angry with me for reasons I don’t understand.

Raff gets up and comes over to our table, Mina trailing behind him.Shit.He drops down into the seat next to Catherine, bumping her with his shoulder.

“Hey there, Catherine the Great! You look beautiful, as always.” He turns in to allow for simultaneous cheek kisses, then runs a finger along her collar, causing Catherine to flush. “Cornflower blue is your color. It brings out your eyes.” Fucking artist.

Mina has nowhere to go but the chair next to me and she looks unhappy to have to do it. Raff grins at her and she glares at him. I don’t understand their dynamic at all. She accepts my greeting with a huff and barely brushes her lips over my cheekbone. It would have been better if we had just avoided the island niceties. Anything to keep from touching her.

“I didn’t know you guys decided on Moku.” Catherine addresses her sister.

“I was craving their fries and Raff wanted the steak tacos. Well, I also ordered the steak tacos. But fries were the main pull.”

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