The Wrong Sister

The weather cooled down, and we traded in our short sleeves and shorts for long sleeves and pants. In early November, Stacey had to go down to San Diego for a mandatory convention for psychologists. “It’s just the way they keep our techniques up to date as new things are learned about behavior and emotions and all that fun stuff,” she explained. “How long will you be gone?” I asked, trying to hide my concern. “Three days and two nights.” I sort of shrugged and then nodded. “You okay?” she asked, sensing my unease. “I’m fine,” I said, though my stomach twisted a little. Stacey took me in her arms and softly whispered in my ear, “You know what?” “What?” “I’m still a psychologist. You can’t exactly fool me too easily.” I laughed and felt her laugh against me as I rested my chin on her shoulder. We pulled back a moment later, and she said, “I already talked to Lisa, and she’s willing to come up and stay here.” “Wow, she would do that? That’s really sweet of her, but isn’t that a lot to ask?” “No, not at all. She was actually thinking of coming up and visiting some people anyway.” “Well,” I said hesitantly, “that would be really nice if it’s not going to put her out.” I was truly grateful to Lisa. The thought of being alone for a few days depressed me, so I was glad for the company. Lisa arrived looking comfortable yet put together. The sides of her hair were pulled back while the rest hung in loose waves around and below her shoulders. She wore jeans, a denim jacket, a black tee, and black boots. What was amusing was the “Shaylin lesson” I overheard Stacey give her after I greeted her when she arrived an hour or so before Stacey hit the road. I had slipped into the nearby laundry room to finish folding the clothes I’d washed earlier. “Is there anything important I should know?” Lisa asked. “I mean, I know she’s had some problems, and if there’s anything I can do to make your absence easier on her, tell me what it is.” “Well, I don’t think a few days will be hard on her so much as the fact that she still has occasional relapses and nightmares.” “Relapses?” “She’s harmless,” Stacey said. “Oh, I know,” Lisa assured her. “But she remembers what happened from time to time and all she lost and can get rather depressed.” “I don’t blame her. What can I do to help during these times?” “Well, just to give you a quick crash course in Shay behavior: she’s intelligent, as you know, but she also has ADHD. Her rather youngish and energetic behavior can fool one into thinking she’s not as sharp as she is, and maybe even drive some people batty.” I heard Lisa chuckle. “It’s quite all right. I liked her playfulness down in San Francisco.” “Yeah, she gets that way at times. Zipping up and down the place, talking louder than loud. But then she also has hearing issues, so that’s part of why she can get a little loud, I suppose. She’s either serious or silly. She tends to change subjects and activities rapidly, too.” “Well, I’m sure I won’t mind. It’ll be fun.” “Just offer to chat if she goes into one of her down moods. Never try to get her to suppress anything, though. We haven’t talked in depth about her past, but I suspect she’s probably had a rough life and emotional issues for quite a while, if not all her life.” “That’s too bad. Sure am glad you’re a psychologist in that case. You learn some things about people with my job, but not nearly what you learn. She came to you for anxiety?” “Yes, she had a rather traumatic experience the year before the quake.” “Is she still seeing that other psychologist?” “No. I’m more or less working with her informally, you could say.” “Anything else I should or shouldn’t do?” “Naw, just let her be herself and pawn her off on Marcy if she gets too much for you.” “I can’t imagine her getting to be too much.” “I highly doubt she will. If anything, she helps motivate you to perk up and gives you energy. Energy that just has a way of rubbing off on you in a good way. Some days, however, she hardly has any energy and will keep busy more with her hands and mind than her body.” “Oh, yeah. That thyroid thing.” “Yep,” Stacey said. “She’s listed on Facebook as being a writer and a software tester who also does artificial intelligence.” “I don’t know anything about the software testing or the artificial intelligence work, but she does have a few stories for sale on Amazon.” “Oh, wow, an author?” “Yeah, for Kindles.” “Way cool. What does she write?” “Romantic suspense with lesbian lead couples. She says that’s her way of supporting equality.” “How neat. I’ll have to check them out sometime—not that I have a Kindle since I’m not big on reading.” “They’re good stories. Her silliness comes out in them as well as her intelligence. Meaning that some of the content seems a little pointless and strange in a funny way, but it’s cleverly crafted just the same.” “I suppose it makes sense that if you’re going to excel with other languages, you would be good with your own.” “Well, enjoy my eccentric, weird, silly little lady with her witty wordplay and amazing ideas, even if they’re not always very realistic.” Lisa laughed and said, “Sounds like Aunt Merilee,” though I didn’t know who that was. “Only this one finds everything either infuriating or funny as hell. Aunt Merilee was just furious.” Lisa gave a hearty round of laughter, and then I walked down the hall with the basket of laundry to put the clothes away. A few minutes later, Stacey called out goodbye. I ran back down the hallway into her arms. “Oh, my!” she exclaimed in mock surprise. “You’d think I was leaving for a year.” Lisa laughed some more, and then Stacey was on her way, promising to call that night. After Lisa closed and locked the door, I thanked her for making the drive up. “I was glad to hear that you had plans to see others as well; otherwise, I would’ve felt bad. I kind of feel like a bit of a sissy as it is.” “Oh, it’s no problem at all. You’re not a sissy, and it’s good to get away every now and then, even if you don’t have anyone in particular to see.” “I get depressed if I’m alone too long.” “Nothing wrong with that. A lot of people are that way.” I felt myself smiling shyly, unsure what to say or do next with my kind houseguest. “So…” Lisa said, clasping her hands together in front of her, “what do you normally do at this time?” “Well, it’s Sunday, which means that anything is possible at this time. You could start with meeting my furry friend, unless you’re afraid of rats like Stacey is.” “Oh, no, not at all. Let’s go meet him.” I spent the next few minutes introducing Burke and Lisa to each other. “Burke, huh? How did he get his name?” “Dark brown rats with distinct white bellies are Berkshire rats, so that’s how.” “Ah, I see.” Lisa eyed the rat and then slowly surveyed the room. “So what all do you use this room for?” “This is my recreation room of sorts, plus I keep my clothes in here—or at least what little I’ve accumulated since losing what I had before.” “Yeah,” Lisa said sympathetically, “that must’ve been really rough.” I nodded and admitted that I was only alive because of Stacey. “Well, I’m glad to hear that much. What about your family? I think Stacey said something about a sister that wasn’t doing well in Florida.” “Yes, Ashlyn has heart issues.” “Oh, that’s too bad. No one left in your home state… I forget which one that is… Massachusetts?” “Yeah, I’m a former Masshole.” Lisa laughed and pulled a thin wallet from the pocket of her jeans. “And I’m a current San Francisco police detective.” I glanced at her shield with surprise. “Oh, my God!” I laughed. “I don’t know why I was under the impression you were a nurse.” “Well, several of my family members are in the health field, so I can see where you might have thought that.” I looked into her deep brown eyes and quickly scanned her. “I can kind of see you as a detective.” “Yeah?” she said with a laugh. “I’m sorry about all the stuff I said about cops, even if I meant some of it.” “No, no, that’s okay. Everyone’s entitled to their opinion.” “Unfortunately, there seem to be a lot of authority figures who use and abuse their position.” “Yeah, unfortunately, there are some, though most of them have good intentions.” “I just don’t buy the bullshit racism.” A flicker of surprise crossed her face, probably at my bluntness. “There may be haters in the mix, of course, but I don’t believe for a minute that cops shoot blacks more than whites. I just think it’s the black folks that the media tends to focus on these days. I also think some of those who got shot actually deserved it. I mean, if you point a loaded gun at a cop and that cop shoots you dead, how is that racism?” “Yeah, I see your point.” “But sadly, it’s politically correct to see racism in everything these days. It’s actually a trend that I think started with the L.A. riots.” Lisa gave a slight nod, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Do you consider yourself racist?” Now it was my turn to be surprised. “No, just a realist, but I understand that most people would think that because I stick to the facts, whether they’re politically correct or not. If you want to bring out the racist in me, just start talking about Muslims, though I don’t have a problem with certain individuals if they’re harmless.” “I see,” Lisa said, running a hand through her dark, wavy hair. I giggled. “I can tell you’re not exactly used to having people be so direct with you, are you?” “Actually, no. As a detective, you often encounter a lot of dishonesty, so…” “So I should be a nice breath of fresh air.” Lisa smiled. “Actually, you are. You’re unique.” “And I’m also hungry. Shall I make us some sandwiches?” Lisa thought for a second and then nodded. “Sounds like a plan to me.” The rest of the day passed uneventfully, with not much chatter between the two of us. We were aware of each other’s company, which I was grateful for, but we mostly did our own thing—watching TV, reading, listening to music, or working on our laptops. Stacey later called as promised and let us know that she arrived in San Diego safely. Lisa insisted on cooking dinner for us that night, and it was good. She made tuna noodle casserole. “Maybe we can go on a little nature walk tomorrow,” Lisa suggested. “That would be nice. Perhaps I shouldn’t say this, as I wouldn’t want to hurt Stacey’s feelings, but she’s the only girlfriend I’ve ever had who’s small like me, and I wouldn’t exactly feel safe with her out in these woods.” Although I knew Lisa heard me, she didn’t respond. She just continued rummaging through the kitchen drawers. “You going to ask me what you’re looking for?” She smiled. “Where does she keep her measuring cups?” “Up there,” I said, pointing. “Why are you single?” I asked in the next breath. She smiled again. “Boy, you really are full of surprises, aren’t you?” I grinned. “If it’s private, you can keep it that way.” “No, it’s not private or any big secret. I just get a kick out of how quickly you change subjects, like Stacey said you would.” “Does it annoy you?” “No, it keeps things interesting, never knowing what to expect next from you.” “That’s part of why people either hate me or love me. Rarely do they just like me.” She didn’t say anything to that but kept her eyes on what she was doing. “Well, the reason I’m single is simple: I’m a very picky person.” “Good for you. Now the tuna chopper you’re looking for is in that drawer right over there.”