Lorenzo sat up. “I was watching that.” He scratched his head and yawned.
“It was watching you and got bored, so I turned it off.”
Lorenzo shrugged and stretched. His shoeless size 15 feet landed on the floor with a thud. “How’s work?”
“Fine. Work was good, class was good, and I met a couple of interesting women. We had dinner together. Anything new with the girls?”
Lorenzo shook his head slowly and yawned again. “Nope.” He glanced around. “Humph. France found the headphones. Thank God.”
“She did after I texted her. When I came in it was the battle of SportsCenter and Rihanna. Phoebe’s in the dining room doing her homework.”
“Oh yeah, meant to tell you. She’s joining a math/science club at school; I got an email from Mr. Holiday. They’ll meet once a week, and there’s some kind of competition in the spring. Phoebe’s excited.”
Now it was Dee Dee’s turn to scratch her head. “I don’t know where she gets this math ability from. It sure isn’t me.”
Lorenzo chuckled. “It ain’t me either,” he said, standing up. “Do you want anything? I’m going to the kitchen.”
“No. France okay?”
“Yep.” He padded out of the room on his large sock-covered feet. “But I’m going to have a conversation with Mr. Devon Carmichael very soon. A come-to-Jesus meeting.”
“What?” Dee Dee chuckled as she took a seat on the couch. “Lo, you need to leave that boy alone.”
“I will,” he called back at her. “When he leaves my daughter alone.”
Poor Devon, Dee Dee thought. He was a sweet kid and Frances’s newest infatuation. Dee Dee hoped his phone plan—and hers—could accommodate the constant calls and texts. She also hoped—for Frances’s sake—that Lorenzo didn’t frighten the boy off. It wasn’t unhealthy for her to have a little boy–girl attraction going on at fifteen. No dating yet—she and Lorenzo were united on that issue. But there wasn’t any harm in Frances having the heady experience of a boy liking her. Convincing Lorenzo of that was going to be a challenge, however.
“Lo, she can date when she’s sixteen,” Dee Dee had said during one of their many conversations about the girls.
Lorenzo roared at that notion—like the MGM lion. “Hell no! Twenty-two. After she graduates from college.”
Dee Dee chuckled again. “Yeah? Good luck with that, okay?”
“I’m serious!”
“Get real. You won’t be there when she’s in college.”
“Why not? She’s only going to UC. She can commute.”
And that was when the conversation had turned into a gladiatorial match.
“Oh, hell no!” It was Dee Dee’s turn to bellow. “There can only be one queen bee in a hive at a time. Those girls are going away to college.”
“What if they don’t want to go away?”
Dee Dee shook her head. “They’re going to have to go somewhere,” she said firmly. “I can barely keep from strangling them now. Can you imagine what this house will be like when Frances is eighteen and Phoebe is fifteen? Please—that’s too many hormones. She’s going away to college. And that’s that. And you will not be in control.”
She sighed now, thinking about it. She wouldn’t be in control either. Lord, have mercy . . .
“Oh yeah, I forgot,” her husband shouted from the kitchen. “Debora called.”
Dee Dee froze, her ears pricking up. “What’d she want? Is she okay? What’s going on?”
“Calm down. She’s fine,” he said, coming back into the room, a glass of water in his hand. “She just called to remind you of your aunt Lou’s birthday next week. Said she called your cell but the mailbox was full.”
The ice in Dee Dee’s veins began to melt a bit. “D-did she sound all right?”
Lorenzo picked up the remote and clicked the TV back on. This time the volume was set on low. “Uh-huh. She sounded fine.”
Dee Dee exhaled slowly. “As if . . .”
Her husband patted her knee as he sat down. “Yep. As if she’s taking her meds. Dee Dee, relax. Deb’s okay.”
And she was and had been, actually, for over two decades. She’d been working as a senior accountant at the same company for years. So why did Dee Dee still freeze up whenever her sister’s name was mentioned? Was she afraid that Deb would have that . . . tone in her voice, the one that preceded a manic phase? She couldn’t help it—she panicked whenever her sister or her brother-in-law called, her shoulders tightening up, the fear choking her voice: “Amory? Everything okay?”
Amory was like a huge teddy bear, gregarious and trusting. He never seemed to notice the anxiety in Dee Dee’s voice, or if he did, he generously pretended to ignore it. “Hey, Sis-in-law!” he would say. “Girl, how you doin’? Those girls still driving you crazy? We are A-OK out here. Listen, is Lo home? I’m returning his call.”
“I’m fine, Amory. The girls are great, and I’m ready to pack them up and send them to boarding school! Wait a second, here’s Lorenzo.”
Dee Dee would then hand over the phone to her husband, embarrassed by her overreaction, and grateful to Amory for cutting her some slack and not calling her out for being ridiculous.
No such luck with Debora, who was always on to her from word one.
“Hi, Sis!” Dee Dee had opened with during their most recent conversation.
“‘Hi, Sis, my ass,” Debora had fired back, her voice tinged with humor and sarcasm. “Before you say anything else, here’s the status report: yes, I’m taking my meds, including a new one with a thingamabob name that I can’t pronounce without my tongue turning inside out, I’m going to support group biweekly, Mass weekly at Saint Stephen’s, kickboxing, tai chi, and a monthly massage given by Gerald, the patron saint of magic fingers. What’d you say, Amory?” Debora’s voice faded as she spoke to her husband. Then there was a chorus of laughter. “That fool I married says I’m having an affair with my masseuse. Really, Amory?”
Then it was Dee Dee’s turn to laugh, as much with relief as with humor.
“Gerald’s gay, isn’t he?”
“Uh-huh. So now that I’ve told you what you really want to know, what do you want?”
Their conversations would eventually morph into normal banter between sisters, the sharing of family activities, coordination of holiday or birthday celebrations, and a reminder to email this link or that address. For almost twenty years, Dee Dee’s interactions with her sister had followed this pattern. Debora’s last episode was in the early 1990s, resulting in a family intervention and hospitalization. But since that time, she had been well—aware of her condition and doubly aware of the tools and practices she needed to maintain equilibrium. So why was Dee Dee still so anxious? Just the sound of her sister’s voice over the telephone—a voice so much like their mother’s that it was eerie—would send Dee Dee into a state of terror.
Debora teased her about it once. “Do you take anything for it?” she asked.
No, but I should, Dee Dee had said to herself.