About My Sisters Read Online Free Page A

tight square when we are together, each one of us protecting her own corner, holding fast to a pattern shaped by birth order, personality, and the gravity of inertia. When there are only two or even three of us together, we are able, with some effort, to reach out past our positions, but when we are four, our combined elements are often more like oil and water, salt and sugar, or gunpowder and spark. Predictably volatile, in other words. The only question is what will be the trigger.
    Lavander is still going on about her waxing. This time, she’s cornered Déja whose friend Katie is the one who performed the actual tearing out of hair.
    â€œHow can she do that?” Lavander wants to know. “How can she get all over people’s crotches without getting sick? And she’s totally cool about it, says it doesn’t bother her at all.”
    â€œWell, it is her job,” Déja says. “But, you know, I’m angry at her and I don’t want to talk about how great she is because she has not been a good friend to me lately.”
    â€œWell, can you please make up with her?” Lavander says testily.
    This is something of a hallmark of my sisters’ and my relationship with the rest of the world. If one of us is happy with a hairstylist, doctor, or beautician, the rest of us will usually patronize that person as well. Business from one of us almost always translates to business from us all. Conversely, if one of us has a bad experience with any of the above, there is pressure for all of us to drop out. Katie is proving to be a sticky exception. Déja has known Katie since high school (and she’s shared many family meals with us), but their friendship has always been a bit erratic. They’re on the outs now, but Lavander and Maya havebecome so enthralled with her skills as a beautician that they’ve even offered to go in on a portable wax pot for her so that she can make house calls.
    â€œI’m not going to stop going to her,” Lavander says now with a touch of stridency creeping into her voice, “so I hope you can work it out.”
    â€œDo what you like,” Déja says. “I don’t care.”
    But of course she does care and Lavander knows it. If the current tiff isn’t worked out, Lavander, who is fiercely loyal, especially to her baby sister, will have to find someone else. This is always the bottom line.
    â€œWhere’s Blaze?” Déja says.
    â€œIn his room,” I answer. This is Blaze’s usual pattern when everyone comes over here. He stays in his room and lets everybody come to him, one by one. Individually, he has a completely different relationship with each one of my sisters, and seeing them one at a time allows him to control the conversation more easily than when they are in a group. Blaze is no fool; he wised up to the “Who’s your favorite auntie?” question when he was still a baby. “You are,” he’d say. “But don’t tell the others.”
    â€œWell, I’m going to go say hello to him,” Déja says and disappears down the hall.
    There is a too-brief silence before Maya says, “I’m making macaroni and cheese, I hope you can handle it.” She turns to Lavander. “Don’t tell me you’re not hungry.”
    â€˜Why? Do I have to leave if I’m not hungry? Will you throw me out?”
    A preemptive strike and a counterpunch. Should be an interesting evening.
    â€œI’m just saying, I’ve made a lot of food here,” Maya backpedals, “and I want it to get eaten. Because you know what it’s like living with Debra. She never eats anything. Doesn’t believe in meals.”
    A brilliant deflection. Now I’m in the fray, too.
    â€œIt’s true,” Lavander says, turning to me. “I never see you eat. You have food issues.”
    â€œOh, please,” I sigh. “I do not. I just can’t eat continuously or think