Casey nodded, trying to contain her disgust. “I’ll pay you back. All of it.”
“I don’t care about the money, Casey.” When they were younger, Tina felt pleasure if Casey merely looked at her.
“I’m leaving after they go to bed.” Casey’s face was impassive. “They can’t know where I am. All right? Please do me that favor.”
Tina wouldn’t argue. By noting Casey’s mistakes, Tina had avoided making the same ones. If she felt a duty to do better in life, it was because she’d screened the previews. She felt—what was it? A primitive loyalty? Certainly not gratitude. Responsibility? Regardless, it wasn’t what she wanted to feel.
The dark street below was empty. A pair of rats dashed out of the black garbage bags near the curb.
The evening shouldn’t have turned out this way. On the train ride down from school, Tina had been going through her list of questions for Casey—worries saved up from the semester. They rarely spoke during the school year. Long-distance calls were expensive and their schedules so full and out of sync. And Casey made things difficult. Her life appeared frenetic and purposeless. She was so hard to make out.
The evening grew darker, and with no moon or streetlights, Tina could barely detect the silhouette of her sister’s face—the shallow-set eyes, their father’s mouth, the high cheekbones, the nose that was slightly rounded at the tip. Her sister’s skin color was fairer than her own, and her straight black hair turned chestnut brown in the summer. Tina’s black hair had a bluish cast, and in the winter, it was raven. When they were out, no one ever suspected that she and Casey were sisters. But Tina wanted to protest that they were sisters; they were not best friends, but they’d always be each other’s own.
Tina took a breath. There was always so little time.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Hmm?” Casey was almost surprised to hear a voice, having already wished Tina gone.
“What’s. . . it like?”
“What?” Casey was confused.
“Sex. What’s it like?”
“Are you going to have sex?” Casey widened her eyes, offering shock, then amusement. “Is there a boy in my sister’s life?”
“Shut up.”
“Well!” Casey pretended to be offended.
“There’s a boy,” Tina admitted—her eyes more full of worry than of pride.
“Name?” Casey asked.
“Chul.”
“Korean?” Casey opened her mouth.
“Yes.”
“Whoa.”
“I know,” Tina said. It was law: If either of them brought home a white boy, that daughter would be disowned. They were to marry Korean. But the likelihood always seemed zero, since no Korean boys ever asked them out.
“Tell.” Casey leaned in.
It was easier to discuss him in the dark. Chul was a year ahead of her at MIT, also pre-med, tall, and a volleyball player. Harvey, the president of the Campus Christian Crusade, had brought him to an ice-cream social in December and had introduced him to Tina. He was serious looking and more manly than the other boys who milled about her at school. He had beautiful Korean eyes, an open brow, and a masculine nose. When spring term began and he asked her to go to a movie with him, she couldn’t believe it, but he came for her as promised with twelve apricot-colored roses wrapped in white paper. After three dates, they made out in his blue Honda Accord. When she told him she was a virgin, he pulled back. “It’s sweet,” he said. He’d had only one experience himself—awkward intercourse after a prom night. They agreed to pray about it. In no time, he said he loved her. “It’s up to you, Tina.” Five months of unclasped brassieres, erections that had initially frightened her, and being touched until she could hardly bear it—she was now worried that her beliefs no longer charmed him. She wanted to make love, but she was afraid of it and him and God, and everything looked gray. Was fellatio sinful, too? Her moral lines kept shifting. They’d done everything up to the last thing. “I. . . don’t believe in premarital sex, you know. The Bible. . .”
“I know.” Casey nodded dramatically. “But you think abortions are okay.” She couldn’t help getting in this little jab—and it was really toward herself, anyway.
“Didn’t you have some newfound rule about one fight per evening?” Tina squinted.
“Oh yes. I forgot.” Casey laughed.
“Well?” Tina asked, wanting Casey to talk.