“Well, there are sort of minimum acceptable standards, aren’t there?” Pru said.
“You’d be surprised. People have all kinds of arrangements. All kinds.”
She might have been imagining things, but the air between Patsy and Jacob suddenly seemed charged. Patsy was just sitting there, drinking her beer, with Annali in her lap, quietly coloring on the restaurant’s paper place mat. Nobody said anything, while Jacob continued to crack open his lobster. But it seemed to Pru that something had been transmitted between them. He’d been talking about arrangements—probably it had something to do with Patsy’s newly unveiled plans to move to Rehoboth, Pru decided. Maybe he wasn’t so thrilled about it? Or maybe she was annoyed that Jacob hadn’t asked her to move in with him, in D.C.? Whatever it was, Patsy wasn’t happy. Pru could see that, plain as toast.
Later, when Jacob was outside making a phone call and Annali was all but asleep on her lap, Patsy said, “I’m glad you finally eased up on him. It means a lot to me.”
Pru stared at her. “What’d I do to deserve that?”
Patsy shrugged. “I know you didn’t like him. He knew it, too.”
Pru couldn’t deny that, but she didn’t like to think it had been so obvious. Jacob brought out some unsavory side of Patsy, a side that was just a bit smug, a bit satisfied. It was as if their love confirmed Patsy’s long-held suspicion that she was a touch more special than ordinary people. That she was destined for a kind of love exactly like this—sudden and true and deeply spiritual. She met a doctor on a train when he’d overheard something clever she’d said about sex—a story bound to appeal to Patsy. And this wasn’t looking like a short-term thing. Pru had the feeling she’d be living with the Specials from Planet Special for a long time.
Patsy was watching her closely, waiting for her reaction. She really was afraid of something, Pru realized. Her annoyance faded. Possibly she’d been on the mark, with the idea that Jacob and Patsy had different opinions about whether they should move in together.
“I just had some reservations, is all. Come on, I’m protective of you guys. So sue me,” Pru said.
“What about now?”
“Look, I see the attraction. He’s great. And great with Annali. But”—she had to choose her words carefully, she knew—“you know what you’re doing, right?”
“Here we go.”
“What?”
“Here’s where you make me feel like shit.”
“I don’t want you to feel like shit. I’m just saying, make sure you can trust the guy. Sure, today he’s great with Annali, but that doesn’t mean he’s in it for the long haul, you know.” She hated how she sounded, sometimes, with Patsy—all cautionary and “long haul” and all that. What was it about her sister that made her suddenly become a TV-sitcom dad?
“Thanks for your concern,” Patsy said, bitterly, “about Annali.”
“Come on, I’m worried about you, too. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I haven’t done one thing in two years without thinking first of Annali,” Patsy said. “I wake up in the morning: Annali. I drive myself to work: Annali. Maybe I’ll take a vacation: oh, right, Annali. Do you have any idea what that’s like? Any idea, Pru?”
Pru didn’t reply. When they both lived at home, she and Patsy had certainly had their fights. Screaming names, pulling hair, throwing clogs—the works. Maybe it was living alone for so long that made her unable to engage in it, but now she felt cowed by the prospect of a toe-to-toe with Patsy. She didn’t know why. “I haven’t had it so easy, either,” she could have said, to which Patsy would have answered, “What does that mean?” And Pru would say, “It’s not so easy being alone. Do you think I like being alone?” But then Patsy would probably snap, “Oh, I think I know alone, Pru. I think I know alone better than most.” She pressed her lips together and stared at the aquarium under the bottles of liquor at the bar.
Pru had meant to do more, after Annali was born. She sent clothes and little gifts for both of them, just so they’d know she was thinking of them. But it had never felt like enough. She was never called upon to babysit, never asked to help with Annali’s expenses. She’d gotten off far too easily, and her own conscience hadn’t picked up the slack. She was glad Annali was coming home with her the following day. It would give her a chance to make up for all that, and to get some veggies in the girl, to boot.
Patsy drank her beer moodily. She kept glancing to the door where Jacob had disappeared to take his call. Pru tried to turn the conversation to the afternoon at the beach, how it reminded her of their childhood and their father. She wanted Patsy to remember the bathing suits they wore with the cinching strings up the sides, but Patsy ignored her. A wall had risen between them. Jacob came back from his phone call—a scheduling problem at the hospital, he said, and he needed to be back to the city sooner than he’d thought. Pru would still take Annali to D.C. in the morning, but just for the one night, not two. They were silent the whole way home.
In the morning, as she was getting ready to leave, Pru went into the bedroom where Patsy was packing up Annali’s suitcase and put her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “I love you, you know,” she said, and Patsy said, “Oh, shut up.” But she let herself be hugged, and everything seemed back to normal again. Still, Pru made a silent vow to stay out of this business with Jacob. Where he was concerned, she’d keep all unsolicited opinions to herself and concentrate her efforts on Annali. She had much to make up
