text: She shouldn’t have answered the call from an unfamiliar number, or, at the very least, should’ve hung up when the caller revealed her identity. Alexina had worn out her welcome five years ago, when she’d used the “skills” she’d practiced throughout childhood--often at Hannah’s expense--to lure the man Hannah loved into her arms. Since then, they’d shared no phone calls, no texts, no emails, no visits, no information whatsoever. She should have resumed the boycott. Instead, the couch beneath her groaning as she leaned forward, she’d blurted, “I have nothing to talk to you about.” “You didn’t see the news?” her sister questioned, as if this made her a dolt. “I don’t care about the news. I thought I made myself clear when I--“ “My house’s gone. Parker’s gone. Everything ’s gone.” Her voice broke on the last syllable, pinching Hannah’s heart just enough to keep her on the line. She opened her laptop on the coffee table and typed Alexina’s location into Google. Her stomach plunged. Despite everything, she’d never wished this on her sister, or Parker. She pictured them huddled in a basement, wondering whether they would see the next hour. She imagined them screaming as the house tumbled down around them, weeping as they contemplated the destruction this would wreak on their lives for months, if not years, to come. “Oh, Alexina, I’m sorry.” “Yeah. Me, too.” She tightened her grip on the phone, not knowing what else to say, to do. At last, Alexina said, “I wouldn’t be asking you this if there was anybody else, or if I could afford a hotel, but Parker’s business never really took off, and we’ve been struggling with the bills, and I’ve got nobody with room for me at their place...” Hannah’s jaw clenched. Though she hated herself for it, the thought of having Alexina in her house, drinking her coffee, showering in her bathtub, sleeping beneath her sheets, drove knives into her gut. “There’s gotta be somebody,” she said, heartbeat a fireworks finale. “There’s not. I’ll be out in the streets if you don’t help.” She wanted nothing to do with her. And, yet, she did have something to do with her: the blood pulsing through her veins, the very blood freezing at the thought of honoring it. She had no choice. * * * She didn’t know why, as she paced, she straightened the curtains, the throw pillows, the roses in the vase on the coffee table--she’d stopped caring what her sister thought of her half a decade ago, and she still didn’t. She didn’t know why it had come to this, why the universe couldn’t accept their separation and move on. She didn’t know why she peeked out the window, because she had no idea what kind of car Alexina drove--whether she’d kept her blue Toyota Yaris or replaced it because that vehicle had broken down, or been totaled, or fallen out of her fickle fancy. She didn’t know why she bothered wondering at all. A car--it was the Toyota--slowed and pulled into the driveway beside her Honda. She took a breath, steeled her shoulders, and opened the door as Alexina came up the steps, suitcase in hand, looking just as she remembered. She even recognized her blouse and jeans. “Thanks again, Hannah,” she said, brushing past her into the living room without an invitation. Clenching her jaw, Hannah shut the door. “I was hoping we could talk,” Alexina said. “It’s a shame how things ended.” Hannah stiffened. Alexina sighed like a teacher with a naughty student. “Come on, Han. You can’t tell me you don’t wanna work it out.” No, she couldn’t tell her that--not because it wasn’t true, which it was, but because that would make for an even more awkward few weeks. Better to approach this diplomatically, for now. “Let’s get you settled in, and then we’ll think about that.” Alexina frowned but didn’t argue. She followed her to the guestroom. As her eyes swept the place, the creases beside her lips darkened. Apparently, she’d expected the Ritz. Unsure how much longer she could retain composure, she told Alexina to tell her if she needed anything and walked away to start a dinner she had a feeling neither of them would eat. * * * Their forks clinked, pushing food around their plates but not bringing it to their mouths. Hannah sculpted her mashed potatoes into a mountain and nudged a pea up its slope; it rolled back down. “I missed you all these years,” Alexina said. Hogwash. She’d called her because she needed her, and only because she needed her. “You remember we were always at each other’s throats.” “That was then. We’re more mature now.” Not true. People didn’t change--not in five years, not in ten, not in twenty. They may learn a few lessons along the way, but personality was etched in stone since the day one came screaming into the world. The only question: Why did Alexina care so much about mending fences? She’d gotten what she wanted. Since when did anything else matter to her? Because she doesn’t know if this is all she’ll want from you. Her jaw stiffened, a fist curling in her gut. “I think it’s better if we keep our distance.” “Why?” “Because we’re cats and dogs, Lexi.” She sighed, feeling as if explaining simple addition for the fortieth time. “Look. I’m not saying anything bad about you. I’m sure there’s lots of people you can gel with. But I’m not one of them.” Alexina flicked a pea off her plate; it plunged off the table and onto the floor. “So you just wanna give up on your only sister.” “There’s a point where it’s just wasting time.” Alexina’s face flushed, and she shot Hannah a glare that could’ve punched straight to a volcano’s core. “Grow up, Hannah.” She jumped to her feet and stalked out. The guestroom door slammed. Hannah remained there, staring at her food, Alexina’s words echoing in her head. Perhaps she was acting immature. Perhaps the twister, or marriage, or life in general had changed Alexina. Perhaps she did deserve another chance, if not because of that, then simply because of the genes and history they shared. She contemplated it all night, tossing and turning, the chirping of the crickets outside her window maddening. When the sun’s tangerine tendrils peeked over the horizon, she rose with only a sweaty pillow and blanket pretzel to show for those hours. As Alexina showered, she dropped onto the couch and switched on the TV. She’d had it tuned to the news; an anchor was droning on about a sculptural exhibit in a nearby city’s museum. The camera flashed to a white-walled, white-floored room filled with busts sporting hideous features--gigantic hooked noses, broken teeth, ram-like horns protruding from their foreheads. A waste of the marble from which their “artist” had carved them. A buzz sounded from the table between the sofas. She grabbed the phone and woke it up. The text had come from “Kaila”--a name she didn’t recognize. Thus, she realized her mistake: She and Alexina both had the newest iPhone. She’d forgotten that she’d left hers in the bedroom. Before she could replace the device, however, the message in question caught her eye. Hey. Just wanted to see how you’re doing and let you know if things don’t work out with your sister my offer to stay with me still stands. Her jaw dropped, mouth going as dry as sandpaper. She should’ve known. Or perhaps she had known, but, once again, she’d ignored the facts, ignored common sense, ignored anything she didn’t want to accept. But she’d have plenty of time to excoriate herself later. Heat expanding in her chest, she jumped to her feet and marched to the guestroom. She gathered the clothes Alexina had hung and the suitcase containing those she hadn’t; stalked down the hall, through the living room, out the door; and hurled the contents of her arms onto the lawn. They looked better there than they ever had on their owner.