My sister got an internship in the city and came to stay with me for the summer of her junior year of college. I was four years older and hadn't seen her for months, and, when I had seen her, I hadn't really paid attention. I was used to ignoring her. I wouldn't even have considered housing her for the summer, but Mom and Dad twisted my arm and since my girlfriend had moved out last December, I had plenty of space in the two-bedroom townhouse I was locked into until at least September.
She showed up on a Sunday in June with a big duffle bag and the first thing I noticed was that she wasn't wearing a bra under her sundress. I did my best not to do more than glance at her tits. They were pretty damn large to not be wearing a bra, though. She pushed her sunglasses up on her head and looked at me.
"Jacob," she said. "Are you staring at my tits?"
I could have smacked her. "Christ, no," I said. "Don't be disgusting."
"So, you think they're disgusting?"
I caught the playful tone in her voice but I wasn't into games. I took the duffle from her and carried it to what had been my study up until last week when I cleaned it out for her and moved in a futon. I tossed her bag onto the bed and turned around to find her practically standing on me. In her high heels, she came up to my nose. I nearly stepped on her.
"Excuse me," she said, but didn't move.
I managed to get around her and headed downstairs to work. I had my things set up on the kitchen table. I rolled up my sleeves and returned to looking up earnings reports and news articles on companies I might recommend to my clients as their investment manager. I'd just gotten promoted two months ago and was still catching up on everything I had to learn for my new position.
Halfway through an online review of an up-and-coming tech company, I realized Linda was in the kitchen staring at me. She was sitting on the counter eating an apple. Her long bare legs were crossed and her toes were playing with her sandals. She smiled.
"Why are you working on a Sunday?" she asked.
I smiled halfheartedly. "I work every day."
"Well, that's no fun," she said.
"Not all of us can be English majors," I said.
She crossed her arms. "English is just as valid a major as finance."
"Uh-huh," I said.
"Anyway, stop working for a while. I want to do something with you."
I put my pencil down and folded my hands in front of my computer.
"This isn't going to work if you keep pestering me," I said. "You'll have to find somewhere else to live."
"Shut up," she said.
Had my baby sister just told me to shut up? I couldn't believe it. I stared at her.
"It's Sunday," she continued. "If you want to work Monday through Friday, nine to five, that's fine. But if you work outside those times, I will pester you."
I snorted with indignation. "You've got to be shitting me. I work eight AM through ten PM every day. And, I still don't get everything done."
"You're doing it wrong," she said. "They don't expect you to get everything done. In fact, the more you do, the more they'll throw at you. You've got to go for less, not more."
"That's ridiculous," I said. "I'll fall behind and get fired."
