The Secret Sister

you a better cell phone,” he said, folding me into a warm hug as soon as I came through the door.
“What’s wrong with my trusty old LG?” I said, nestling against his shirt. I could feel the beat of his heart through the thin cotton. It was unfamiliar, this sense of belonging to someone. This closeness that sent a little dart through the place where my heart was, chipping away at the wall I’d built around it. It felt weird that suddenly someone actually cared where I was and when I’d be home. For a moment that thought made me stiffen up and draw back, but I caught the sparkle of wine glasses and the reddish glow of a good vintage, so I relaxed into him.
“It’s probably got a five-minute battery life. I called you a couple of times and you didn’t answer. We’re going to a retirement party at the faculty club,” he said, handing me a glass of wine that slid down my throat like velvet fire.
I neglected to tell him I didn’t answer the phone because I’m oblivious when I’m shopping. Instead, I held out my glass for a refill.
He poured the wine, but before I could lift it to my lips, he caught hold of my wrist.
“I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”
He looked dead serious. Unsmiling. I had this sudden urge to shove the glass in his face and run, but just as quickly as the picture formed in my mind, his face broke out into a grin. I slammed the glass onto the table.
“Never ever do that to me again.”
His face flushed. “I was just kidding.”
“You scared me.”
He reached his arms out to me but I turned my face away. My insides were churning.
“C’mon, Anna. I just wanted to ask if you found anything interesting in my sock drawer.”
Now it was my turn to look sheepish.
He touched my shoulder. “It’s okay. I don’t have anything to hide.”
“Except that you’re totally, insanely anal.”
“Inherited from my mom. You’ll understand when you meet her.”
“I guess she’s one of those don’t use the decorative hand towel types.”
“Not exactly, but close,” he said, holding my wine glass out to me. “But now you’ve snooped into my personal life I want to know something about yours.”
I slugged the wine back. His eyes were wide. Expectant.
“I don’t like to talk about it.”
“Something. Anything.”
My mind raced through memories. I had to give him something. Anything. As long as it had nothing to do with my sister. That wasn’t a conversation I was ready to have.
“My family loved dogs. My father and I trained Dmitri to fetch the mail, play dead, walk on his back legs and everything. We were going to enter him in a talent show.”
“What kind of dog was he?”
“Gray and white husky.”
Guy’s face fell. He sipped his wine and gazed through the window. “I envy you. I always wanted a dog. Mom and Dad said they couldn’t cope with the smell or the hair shedding.”
“They’re a whole lot of work,” I said, reaching for the wine bottle again. “Not a word of a lie.”
We made love in the shower. I’d just soaped myself down when he slipped in and held me, studying my face in the bright lights of the bathroom, stroking every part of my body until it quivered. For the first time ever, I actually looked into a man’s eyes as he pushed inside me and I had a vague sense that this was the nature of true intimacy – all that sentimental stuff about being joined as one.
Before Guy, sex was just a mechanical release. Nothing more than furtive, sweaty groping in a dark bathroom or anonymous bedroom with some guy whose first name was the only thing I knew about him – and even then, I couldn’t be sure if it was a fake one. Now I had this urge to let go.
“You’re incredible,” I said, nibbling at his earlobe. Driblets of water ran from his hair down his cheek and I wondered if the wetness around my eyes was from tears or shower water.
“I knew you had good taste,” he said later, his eyes lingering over the filmy, gold dress. I twirled around letting the skirt flutter around my legs. Round and round until my vision blurred and I remembered Birdie in the monkey mask, her spider arms held up in the air, a thin thread of blood dribbling down her lip. Pinpricks of light danced in front of my eyes and I stumbled. Guy seemed oblivious as he pulled the scented candles from their bright checkered bag.
“But these candles have to go. I’m allergic to this cheap junk. Give them away to your students. An incentive. Research shows that kids work way harder for enticements.”
“What are they going to do with scented candles? Some of them don’t have enough food to eat,” I snapped, stuffing them back into the paper bag. “I mean you were there. You saw the kids.”
“Are you saying I’m insensitive to poverty?” His brows knit. I’d never seen him look annoyed. “Or are you saying the poor don’t deserve pretty, frivolous things? That it’s all about survival. Isn’t that just a little bit condescending?”
“I guess you have a point,” I said, grabbing my purse. I didn’t want a fight. It was way too early for that. “I’m sorry I overreacted. You can help me think of a classroom contest while we’re driving.”
“Apology accepted, but I don’t talk shop on the weekend,” he said, patting my bum and grinning as he held the door open for me. “Besides, the contests I’m likely to conjure up now would hardly be suitable for classroom use.”
“Let’s give them a whirl later,” I said, standing on tiptoe and kissing his freshly shaved cheek. Then the world tilted upright again. Balance and harmony restored. For now.

7
To prepare myself for dinner at Guy’s parents’ place I did some research on Gord. I collared Sabrina during lunch. She’d made the rounds of educational conferences and,