I want to fill half her closet, empty my fridge, and figure out what to do with my house later.
I want that so much, but Tilda hasn’t even been to my house.
Not once.
We’ve talked about it. But I haven’t put any effort into it. For no reason other than I like it here better.
Maybe I can bring Tilda over there this weekend. And while we’re there, I can casually make a comment about clothes. And we can casually pack a suitcase of my stuff. And I can casually move the rest of my existence into her house.
My phone rings.
I’m off today, so I almost don’t take it out of my pocket.
But I do. And I see something else I’ve been avoiding.
“Hey, Sandra.”
“Finally.” My sister sighs. “I feel like we’ve been playing phone tag forever.”
I grunt. Because we have. But also because I’ve been calling at times I knew she’d be busy. Because I haven’t told her I’m married.
An idea forms. Two birds, one stone. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Umm.” Sandra’s tone is suspicious. “I don’t think I have anything planned. Why?”
“Why are you lying to me?”
“I don’t have anything planned. I’m not lying.”
“You’re lying about something.” I sip my coffee. Loudly.
I do it again.
On the third time, Sandra caves. “Oh my god, fine. Just knock it off.”
I smile.
She sighs. “Wedon’t have any plans for tomorrow.”
My smile drops. “Who iswe?”
“Me and my, um, boyfriend.”
I exhale. Loudly.
Fine. I’ll invite everybody.
Three birds, one fucking stone.
“Bring him with.”
“Uh.” Sandra hesitates. “Bring him where?”
“The house.”
“And what are we going to do atthe house?”
I roll my eyes up to the sky. “We’re going to murder and dismember your boyfriend.”