Chapter IV

Unfinished Chapter

It was Friday afternoon, and it had been almost two full days since I’d heard from Bridget.  I had called and texted enough times to be on the verge of looking desperate, but I didn’t care. 

 

I took off from work half an hour early to try and beat some of the traffic which worked because I got to my sister’s place before five o’clock. 

 

Fridays and Sundays are my sister, Alison’s, day off and I knew I would find her on her back porch, lounging with a clove cigarette and a pitcher of strong margaritas. 

 

I walked around back and up the porch stairs, finding Alison right where I knew I would.  She had her sunglasses on and her long brown hair up in a ponytail.  She was wearing a little dress and was barefoot.  There were three glasses on the table next to her, next to a pitcher filled with one of my sister’s frozen concoctions. 

 

“Expecting company?”  I asked.

 

She turned her head towards me and lifted up her sunglasses to get a better look.  Her smile was big and welcoming.

 

“Just you, little brother.”

 

Alison is exactly two minutes older than I am, and never lets me forget it.

 

“Three glasses?”

 

“Rose is coming home from work a little early today, so she’ll be joining us.”

 

“You knew I was coming?”

 

“Of course I did.  So what’s bothering you, honey?”

 

I shook my head a little.  “Why do you think anything is bothering me?” 

 

“I’m your sister, I know these things.  Now ‘fess up, kid.”

 

I poured myself a drink and sat back in one of the deck chairs.  Settling in and putting up my feet, I took a long sip of the cold margarita.

 

“It’s Jet.”  I took another long sip, wondering where to begin.

 

“Is she as pissed as I am that I haven’t met her yet?”  she teased.

 

“No, Alison, it’s not that.”

 “Then what is it?  I thought you were head over heels, on your way to the real thing.  What happened?”

 

“Remember Angie?”

 

“Ugh, yes.  She was terrible.  How come you introduced us to her, but not to Jet?”

 

“I’m just trying not to make the same mistakes twice, you know?  I get all excited about a girl, take her home to meet you and Mom and Pop, and then she turns into a psycho.  Or dumps me for someone else, or something similar.”

 

“Yeah, but it’s been almost two months and you and this girl are going strong, aren’t you?”

 

“I thought we were, but…..”

 

“But what, Andrew?”

 

I broke down and told Alison what had happened at Carrabba’s that night, and how Jet wouldn’t return my phone calls or texts.  I told her how I wanted to go to her apartment to see her, but I was afraid of making her angry.  I explained how ever since I had met this girl I had been walking on air, but the way she had acted at the restaurant had really thrown me for a loop.  I admitted that I was in love with Jet, and how terrified I was that I had somehow lost her before I could even tell her.

 

When I was finished we sat in silence for a few minutes.

 

“So?”  I asked.

 

“Sweetie, I think that Jet is probably just embarrassed and regretful about what happened, and is dying to talk to you as much as you are dying to talk to her.  Go over there, Drew.  If you love this girl and you want her as much as you say you do then don’t let her slip away.”

 

I sighed.  “You don’t think her punching Angie out is a big deal?”

 

Alison laughed.  “Not really, I kind of admire it.  I think that Angie probably just hit a nerve with her comment and Jet lost it.  You said you guys had had some wine, and the Angie that I remember was in sore need of at least a good smack.” 

 

At that point, Alison’s girlfriend Rose walked up the stairs to the porch and joined us.  My sister smiled hugely and got up to greet her sweetheart with a tender kiss and a hug. 

 

My sister and Rosalita Gomez are, at first glance, a textbook case of opposites attract.  My sister is a tall, willowy blonde with blue eyes.  A meddler, a fixer-upper of friends and a social butterfly.  She is a vegetarian, a Unitarian Universalist and a lover of small cuddly things and children.

 

Rose, who lets no one call her ‘Rosie’, is a solid kind of Puerto Rican woman who comes only an inch past my sister’s shoulders.  She is about seven years older than my sister and I, short haired and on the butch side; she is an amateur boxing champion, a meat-eater, and a convicted felon.  Quiet and reserved in nature, you would never imagine upon meeting her that Rosalita had once, a long time ago, done time in New York for dealing drugs.

 

But it works.  They met five or six years ago at a yoga class.  Rose was there on the advice of her physician to help deal with some back issues that were a result of her work in a warehouse.  My sister was a regular at the yoga studio and, spotting a newcomer, made sure to introduce herself.  The rest is history.

 

Rose took a seat next to my sister and rested her hand on Alison’s leg.  I poured her a frozen margarita and my sister filled her in on my dilemma with my permission.

 

Rose took a long sip of her drink once Alison was done and thought for a few moments.  She looked at me quizzically.

 

“Is Angie that tall blonde, the one with the loud voice?  You dated her last summer?”

 

I nodded.

“I wanted to punch her, too.  Bring this girl Jet around, we’ll tell you what we think.”

 

“So you think I should go to her place, try and get her to talk to me?”

 

“Ey, stupid.  Yes, go and get her!  What you still doing sitting here, anyway?”