[Readers, be advised – slow, teasing build-up over a long, two-part story.]
*** Wednesday: Arrival ***
"Harvey, you don't know how much we appreciate you doing this for us," Sandra said on one of her passes. My sister was flitting frantically about the house, while her husband dutifully took their luggage out to the taxi. My offer to help had been refused in order that I could listen to my sister's rambling but apparently important instructions.
"This is where we'll be staying," she said, thrusting a print-out at me. "If there are any problems, and I mean any problems, call us there. The number's on the page. Well, actually, that's the reservation line. Oh dear. Here, let me just get you the number for reception."
"Honey," her husband interrupted, "The taxi's waiting. Harvey is a grown man. He can figure it out."
I watched my sister in detached amusement. I'm not sure what warranted her frenzy. It wasn't even her mother who had died; it was her mother-in-law. And it wasn't like the old woman was going anywhere. The funeral was on Saturday, and it was still just Wednesday. But Sandra had always been something of a control freak.
"The tickets! Where are the tickets?" she cried, "You forgot the tickets! You forgot the friggin' tickets!"
"Sandra! Calm down. Mary-Kate can hear you," Bob insisted. "I've got the tickets. Let's go."
Leaning demurely against the wall, Mary-Kate watched the scene in silence. Even though it was late in the evening, she was still in her school uniform – a crisply pressed, white cotton shirt; a short, pleated, dark blue plaid skirt; stretchy, semi-sheer, white knee-high socks; and a pair of shiny, black, strap-and-buckle loafers.
"Mary-Kate is not to go out," Sandra warned. "She's got homework to do, and I don't want to have to be worrying about her getting into trouble or an accident or anything." My sister instructed me but glared at her daughter. Bob grabbed Sandra by the elbow and ushered her towards the door. "And no parties!" my sister added.
I looked over at Mary-Kate, who gave me a little rolling-finger wave. She looked a bit sheepish as if she realized that she had suddenly become a burden to me and wished it wasn't necessary. To be honest, I really didn't understand my need to be there. She was 18 and capable of looking after herself.
But on the other hand, she did act very young for her age. I was not very dutiful about visiting my family, so I hadn't paid much attention to Mary-Kate as she was growing up, but I wouldn't be surprised if my sister's overzealous parenting had caused the kid to mature more slowly than most. In fact, the few times that I had spoken to my niece, she did seem to have a naive perspective on life. Maybe my sister's caution was warranted. Anyways, some time away from work wasn't going to hurt me, and I had figured out how to claim family leave for it. Being middle-aged and divorced, I wasn't going to find a use for that benefit any other way.
"And no staying up late!" Sandra cried, as her husband hustled her outside. I held the screen door open and watched them cut across the grass towards the cab. "We'll be back Saturday night," my sister yelled over her shoulder. She hurried unsteadily over the uneven ground, impelled by her husband's grip.
Mary-Kate slipped in beside me at the door. "Sorry about that," she offered quietly.
At the taxi door, Sandra continued with her one-last-thoughts. "The list of emergency phone numbers," she pleaded with her husband, who unapologetically stuffed her into the cab. "It's all 9-1-1 now," he said, closing the door. Then he zipped around the back of the car and jumped in the far side. Sandra stared worriedly at us through her cab window, prompting Mary-Kate to smile and wave. I followed suit.
As the taxi drove off down the street, Sandra lowered her window and stuck her head out. "There's more meat in the downstair's freezer," she yelled, "And if ..." Suddenly, her head disappeared back into the car. "Bye!" Mary-Kate called out, more to finalize the departure than to wish her farewell. She rubbed her arms against the chill, and we ducked back into the house.
"Isn't she a piece of work?" Mary-Kate said, as she walked over to the couch and plopped down. She slouched back in her seat, pressed her knees together and splayed her lower legs idly out to the sides. Staring vacantly to her front, she became lost in thought.
"So is this sad for you?" I asked, sitting down beside her, "Did you know your grandmother very well?"
She continued to stare without focus and inattentively blew a few raspberries through her puckered lips.
"Mary-Kate?" I prompted her.
"Oh, sorry," she replied, "No, I didn't know her at all. Can I have some friends over?"
"What?" I responded, a little surprised. "No. You just heard your mother. Besides, it's late, and you've got school tomorrow."
Mary-Kate turned her lower lip into an exaggerated pout. "Oooo, you're such a meany, Unc," she said and then jumped off the couch. "Okay. I'll be a good girl. You know where you're sleeping?"
"Yes. I already put my bag in your parents' room."
"Okay," she said and bounded out of the room, "I'm going to get ready for bed now."
*** Wednesday: Bedtime ***
Cute kid, that Mary-Kate. But as innocent and adorable as she seemed to be, I could see that I would have to keep an eye on her this week in case she tried to test me. Yet, I don't think that she will give me any real problems. If I know my sister, she has drilled manners and morality into the poor kid for most of her young life.
As Mary-Kate's patent leather shoes scampered down the hall and into her room, I grabbed the remote off the coffee table and started flipping through the channels on the television.
Of course, I hadn't expected her to be so good looking. She was very striking, in a youthful, untouched sort of way. Her soft features were offset by a prominent but not oversized nose. Her large, dark eyes looked both calmly perceptive and casually submissive, and her high cheeks always seemed on the verge of pulling her mouth into a broad smile.
I continued to flip through the channels, but nothing inspiring jumped out at me. I finally decided to watch the late news.
The innocence of Mary-Kate's face was highlighted by her perky hair. Her shoulder-length, dirty blonde hair was thick and full, and on either side of her head, she had pulled it into ponytails, which whipped about in a flirty way. She gave off conflicting signals, both womanly and girlish, both fertile and virginal, ... and I really had to stop thinking about that sort of thing before I got myself into trouble. I turned my attention back to the TV.
Mary-Kate appeared at the side of the couch and passed in front of me. My eyes bugged out. At first, all I saw was skin. She did have on a skimpy, yellow outfit, but most of her body was uncovered. She had on a cropped, cotton t-shirt that flopped loosely open just below her breasts and a pair of tiny, stretch shorts that conformed tightly to her small curves.
She reached down for the TV schedule off the coffee table and caused me to inhale sharply. As she bent over, the crop-top billowed open, and inside, her two full breasts lolled under her chest. She moved to the other end of the couch and sat on her legs, pulling down on her shirt to make sure that she was covered.
I tried to stare at her accusingly, but it probably looked more as incredulity. Mary-Kate flipped through the magazine, doing her best to ignore me. "So is there anything good on?" she said.
"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded.
Mary-Kate avoided my stare. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly, and a twinkle appeared in her eyes. "What?" she said, gazing at the TV.
"What do you call that outfit?"
"What?" she said again defensively. She flipped her head up and down between the schedule and the TV. "It's what I always wear to bed. Is this what you're watching?"
"It's what you always wear to bed?" I repeated back to her sceptically. There was no way that my sister would let her prance around the house in that little nothing.
Finally, she flopped the magazine down on the couch in mock anger but was barely able to hold back a smirk. "What?!!" She tried to glare at me but couldn't help snickering, so she stood up and moved over to my lap. "I thought you were cool, Unc. Don't tell me you're gonna to be a prude all week." She fell sideways onto my chest with a thump and sulked.
By reflex, I put my arm around her waist. "Well, it's not very appropriate, is it? Go put on what you really normally wear to bed."
