SISTER EATS BROTHER

1

"Ben. Your sister is coming over tonight."

My head jerks up, finger freezing over the computer mouse...and my heart plummets in my chest. "What?"

My wife, Anastasia, stands in the doorway, leaning heavily against the white frame. Arms folded, bright blue eyes trained on me, accusatory. "Your sister...remember her?" A frown weighs her face down, accentuating the faint lines of middle age in her skin. "She's coming over for dinner."

Silence. We blink at each other, the sound of machine guns and explosions filling the room from the computer speakers. Maybe she didn't say what I think she just said. Maybe I heard her incorrectly...

"Oh, you must've forgot. Her name is Adam-."

"I know what her name is, Anastasia," I groan, turning toward her in my swivel chair. It squeaks loudly, and I glance toward the screen. Dead. My avatar is dead. All of my hard-earned points, gone.

"Hmm. Could've fooled me." She tilts her head, looking over my shoulder at the computer screen. Her eyes narrow, fingers gripping the door frame as she leans farther into the room.

Great. Here...we...go.

"Are you gonna be on that all day?"

"Are you ever gonna get off my back?" I snap.

Her eyes flick back to my face, hurt showing on her expression for a split second before disappearing, tucked away under her calm facade. A pang of guilt rushes through me, and I lean forward. Reaching a hand out toward her arm, then quickly retracting it.

"I'm sorry," I mutter. "I'm just pissed. You really should've talked to me first."

Anastasia's eyelashes flutter as she takes a deep breath. "Well, she's coming."

I shake my head, running fingers through my hair, glancing down at the computer screen before lifting my eyes back to hers. "No." I turn toward her fully in my swivel chair, the squeaking noise grating on my ears. And hers too, judging from her wince. "No, she isn't."

"Yes, Ben. She is," Anastasia replies curtly. "You...we...haven't seen her in two years."

"For good reason," I deadpan, dropping my forearms down on the arms of the chair.

Drumming my fingers a few times, letting some nervous energy out. "I've already told you that I don't want her around the kids. She's...a bad influence. Tell her I said no-"

"Enough," she snaps, leaning forward, arms squeezing tighter in their folded position, fingers digging into the meat of her arms. "She may be different from you, but she's your sister. And the kids adore her. She's coming."

"Did you invite her?" I ask, a venomous bite in my tone as irritation creeps through my body, burning in my throat like acid. Don't explode, don't explode, don't explode...

"For your information, I didn't. Since I'm the only one in the family she can talk to, she let me know that she's back in the country. She asked to visit us."

Well...shit. "You should've...talked with me first," I groan, rubbing my forehead.

"If it was up to you, you'd only see her if she was displayed in a casket," Anastasia says bitingly, then turns around and walks back down the hall, quick footsteps echoing against the wooden walls. "She'll be here at 6 o'clock. Be a nice little brother, okay?" Her hand slides audibly on the railing as she steps lightly down the carpeted stairs. "And would you please get off the game and say hello to the kids? They haven't seen you all day."

I grumble, tilting my head back against the seat, staring angrily up at the ceiling. The shadow of the tree outside the window flutters against the white paint, and I shield my eyes from the setting sun as it glares through the window panes.

"This can't be happening..." I whisper, dragging my hands down my face.

Adam. My older sister and a total pain.

She cusses like a pirate, is covered head to toe in tattoos, wears the least amount of clothing possible, talks openly about her frequent drug habits, and is an all around mess.

My kids are young. Too young to be around that kind of behavior. It might get them...thinking. I don't want to be responsible for druggies and delinquents. Not in my house.
And that's what Adam inspires. Delinquent, druggie behavior. She ran away from home when she was just fifteen years old, for gods' sake, managing to evade the law and our parents the whole time. And the few times I saw her when she was still in town, she'd be on a new drug, living in crack houses, homeless...

Her name wasn't always Adam either. She was named Eve at birth, but after reading the book of Genesis at the age of 11, she refused to respond to any other name besides Adam. Mainly to piss our dad off, I think.

Adam.

She should've just stayed gone. My life would be so much simpler without her around.