Page 9 of Big & Lily

“That’s a glacier,” says my sister. “A real damn glacier.”

“I thought a glacier was a giant floating ice thing. Like inTitanic.”

“That’s an iceberg. Jesus, Big, you’ve got to get out of New Jersey more often.”

I cluck my tongue and push the phone back at Lily.Who died and made her a geology expert?

Lily is winding herself up; her eyebrows rise with the scheme she’s hatching. I do feel grateful, even if only for a moment, that she has forgotten about her cheating husband and her (in her own words) ruined life. Maybe she should go to Alaska and commune with the grizzly bears.

“Here’s the thing,” she says. “I checked the website, and they still have openings for a group leaving in ten days.”

“Ten days?” I ask, feeling a tightening in my chest. The idea of planning a trip that quickly makes me sweat, and it’s not even my trip. “That’s not enough time.”

“?’Course it is. I’d leave tonight if I could. But you didn’t let me finish. They have two spots left. Two. That means we can go together. I was serious when I said that before. I want you to come with me. You can watch out for me. I can’t do it without you.”

“You want me to go to Alaska? To babysit you?”

Lily softens her tone. She leans away from herI need to lean on youtack. “No, Big. I wantusto have an adventure. When was the last time you went on an adventure?”

“I’m not really the adventure type, Lil.”

“I know! That’s why it’s so important that we do this. You and me! Don’t you want to get out of here sometimes? Just go?”

I think about the list burning a hole in my pocket and the old woman waiting for me to pick her up and complain about the temperature of the pool or the hip-hop music the instructor thought was appropriate for a group of seniors. I think about my adult children who will be asking what’s for dinner and the husband who will be ping-ponging around the house waiting for his wife to squeeze him in when she has on opening because isn’t retirement when we were going to spend our days together, after all? Nope, I’m just not the pickup-and-go type. Lily’s pitching a losing proposition.

Lily jumps out of the car and slams the door on me after I tell her as much. “I’m going anyway,” she snarls, pissed at what a disappointment I am as a sister. She throws her bag over her shoulder with force and starts walking up the path to her green front door. Halfway there, she turns and comes back. My sister raps a knuckle on the window, and I lower it. “I can stay with you until I leave, right?”

“Of course,” I say.

Lily turns away from me and trudges up her tidy front walk, past her impeccably manicured patch of lawn and the two Frontgate copper urns overflowing with ivy and coleus and bright red geraniums. She slips into her beautiful home, leaving me thinking about that saying about behind closed doors. I wonder what must have gone on in there to bring Lily to the point where she wants to scratch her way through the tundra—my sister, whose idea of a dream vacation is working on her tan on some Caribbean island. I’m sure I’ll find out eventually. Lily tells me everything. Whether I want to hear it or not.

When I pull into the parking lot at the strip mall that conveniently houses three of my errand destinations, I have a full screen of text messages.

Annie reminding me about the bananas. Mom’s podiatrist confirming her appointment for tomorrow. My husband asking ifI can come to Home Depot with him. And Eric. Asking if Lily is with me, because she is not answering her phone.

I add bananas to the food-shopping list, text Tim back and tell him I can go to Home Depot later this afternoon, and ignore Eric. Until my phone rings. Despite seeing his name on the caller ID and feeling the prickly sensation of anxiety across my skin and knowing no good can come of this, I answer it.

“Where is she?”

This is so not right. I’ve covered for Lily more times than I can count—in high school when she told our parents she was staying with me, when I faked a reference for a job she quit after three weeks—but this is beyond my job description.Just hang up.“I don’t know, Eric. I’m not my sister’s keeper,” I say, knowing it’s a lie.

“That’s a laugh. She’s supposed to be at the store. Today is the sidewalk sale, she knows how important this is. I’m here by myself.” This is what comes from marrying someone based on the criteria that they are good in bed and don’t bore you.

“You’re kidding, right?”

He waits a beat. “Oh, you heard.” Not an ounce of contrition in his stupid voice.

Chapter Four

Anger bears down on me. It travels through my spine ?to my tailbone. This guy is messing with the wrong big sister. “Where do you think your wife was last night, Eric? After you so cavalierly announced that you were okay with ruining her life? Do you think she went out dancing? She was with me. With her family.”

“Come on, Bridget,” he says, taking on what I recognize as his mansplaining tone. “You don’t have the full story. You haven’t heard my side.”

“I don’t know how you think ‘your side’ will vindicate you in any way. What, did you fall down and get your penis stuck in an employee? Workplace accident?”

All I hear on the other end of the phone are the whale songs piped into Sweet Dreams,meant to begin your journey to la-la land even before you leave the store, but there is nothing more from my hopefully soon-to-be ex-brother-in-law. I’ve shocked Eric into silence. Frankly, I’ve shocked myself. My eyes and face are burning. Before Eric can gather his thoughts and make another attempt at explaining himself, I hang up. He’s dead to me. Dead people don’t get to present their defense.

I sit in my car watching the other errand goers being productive. I need a second before I let myself return to my regularly scheduled programing.To do. Did do. Will Do. Repeat.I lower theAC and point the vents at my face. After that phone call, my worry for my sister rachets up to eleven.