Page 11 of Big & Lily

“Lily.”

“No, be real. It’s true. The son she never had. The full-of-shit charmer she falls for every time. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she takes his side in this.”

It was then that I was brought back to the reality of the situation. Lily and I weren’t having one of our usual banters, the daily spats over nothing, the back-and-forth that was always over before we even remembered why it started, the ebb and flow of two people who are probably spending way too much time together. No,we were talking about the two-by-four that had hit my sister across the head.

“Please, Big?” She’d wrapped her now chilly fingers around my forearm, but the puppy dog eyes that usually accompanied her pleas for an accomplice weren’t there. Instead, I saw her bloodshot, tear-filled eyes and I groaned. She took that as acquiescence and tightened her grip. Her way of thanking me for the matter settled.

Now that I’m up against it, my mother crossing her arms over her two-sizes-too-largelife is goodT-shirt, I’m thinking to myself:A groan isn’t really an agreement.Not legally binding, in my book. We’re close to home. If I chew on my nails long enough, fiddle with the radio, ask her for a piece of dusty gum from the bottom of her bag, we’ll get back without me having to say more. She likes to work on her Wordle with a cup of tea after water aerobics. Hopefully that will distract her, and she’ll forget what we were talking about.

Turning into our driveway, I realize my mother will not be distracted from the matter so easily. Because there on the front stoop, surrounded by four oversize suitcases, two overstuffed Lands’ End canvas totes, and a dachshund in a leopard-print sweater, is my sister. And she’s not alone.

Chapter Five

Lily sits on the stoop, her fingers buried in her long ?hair. Eric is standing over her.

“What the hell?” my mother and I say in unison but for different reasons.

I lurch the minivan to a stop, causing Ruth to throw her arms out at the dashboard. I’m out of my car before my mother can reprimand me for my lousy parking. As I slam the door and rush to my sister’s defense, Lily stands and turns to her husband, her face set, the dog tucked to her hip like a football.

“Bridge, hey, come here.”

Over my shoulder, half-hidden by the rhododendron, I see Tim waving at me. Lily and Eric haven’t noticed their audience, even with all the car door slamming, so I join my husband and step out of view. My mother slides in behind us.

“Is this what you weren’t telling me?” she asks in a stage whisper.

I ignore her as I peer around the bushes.

“You are being ridiculous, Lily,” Eric says loud enough for those of us in the cheap seats.

“She’s been sitting there for a while,” Tim whispers.

“Oh, fuck you, Eric!”

Tim continues his side commentary like David Attenborough observing antelope in the wild. “I asked her if she wanted help with the suitcases, and she said she’d wait for you.”

Eric reaches his arms out, not to embrace his wife, not to fold her into his chest and beg her forgiveness. To grab the dog. “You can’t take Marigold!”

My sister twists away, putting her body between him and the little dog. “Are you kidding me right now? You cheat onUS? You fucked around? You ruinedEVERYTHING, and you think you are fit to be a father?”

That last comment has a broader meaning, but right now she is talking about the dachshund in the designer sweater. Marigold was meant to be their practice baby. Acquired soon after they were married, Lily and Eric quickly becamethosedog parents. The ones who adorned their sausage-shape bundle in Fair Isle sweaters, fed her organic food, and slept with her tucked between them every night. Everything was Goldie this and Goldie that. After the success of raising the most beautiful, smartest, best dog in the world, they’d declared that parenting a human baby would be a piece of cake. Maybe, but they had to get there first, and now, thanks to Eric, they would not.

“You’re not getting away with this,” Eric threatens.

Lily laughs a hollow, sorrowful laugh. My mother has had enough. She drops her swim bag and storms out from our hiding spot. At barely five foot in her water moccasins, the six-two Eric is no match for her outrage. Still, I jump out behind her. I’m not much taller than she is. The nickname “Big” surprises people who meet me standing next to my model-tall sister, but what I lack in stature I make up for in maternal rage. With a show of strength in numbers, Tim steps in line beside me.

“That’s it,” Ruth bellows. “Out. Now. Go!”

Eric swings around and comes face-to-face with his mother-in-law. Lily is not wrong; Mom and Eric have been thick as thieves on occasion. It’s usually a game night, when they are both on the sameside and ready to kick some ass. Or a debate over which hockey team will make it to the playoffs. (It’s hard to be a Rangers family in the middle of Devils territory.) But what my mother missed last night after Lily showed up at my door, or this morning in the chaos of shepherding everyone out of the house, or by my keeping shtum so I didn’t have to be the one to share what should have been Lily’s story to tell, she put together quickly, and she doesn’t need any further explanation.

“Mom, it’s okay,” Lily says, but the timbre of her voice tells us it’s not. Not by a long shot.

Her soon-to-be-dead (if I have anything to say about it) husband looks past my mother to me. Our last conversation on the matter did not go well. He glances to his brother-in-law, the only other man who knows what it’s like to deal with Ackerman women, but Tim’s crossed arms tell him he won’t get any support there. He takes another tack. “If you don’t come back to the store by tomorrow, I’m going to assume you want out of the business too. I can manage there on my own. But don’t forget it’s your sister’s investment you’ll be fucking with.”

“Why don’t you ask Willa to take an extra shift? She’s clearly got a knack for taking my place.”

My mother’s eyebrows shoot up at the mention of our old babysitter’s name. Now she has all the pieces of this ugly jigsaw puzzle. “I believe this is what you call trespassing right here,” she says. “I think I should call the police.”

We, Lily’s family, her real family, take a step forward. Eric’s nostrils flare. “This isn’t over. You can’t keep Marigold, Lily. You can barely take care of yourself without your sister telling you what to do and rescuing you from every fuckup.”