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This Might Hurt(5)

Author:Stephanie Wrobel

Sir didn’t like Aunt Carol because she was related to Mother and had the nerve to afford a second home without a man’s help. He rarely let us see her anymore, but I guessed he didn’t hate her enough to say no when she offered to loan us her house.

I barely had enough time to unpack and snoop through the garage before Sir called a meeting in the cozy living room. There were throw pillows everywhere, embroidered with sayings like Live, Laugh, Love and I just want to drink wine and pet my cat.

Sir clapped, eyes twinkling. “What do you say we have ourselves a family outing?”

Jack and I bobbed our heads. Nobody called my sister by her actual name. Sir had been hoping for a son. When the nurse handed him a baby girl instead, that didn’t stop him from using the name he’d picked out for his boy. The nickname had stuck, much to my sister’s and mother’s horror.

Mother wrapped her arms around herself. “I think I’ll say a rosary, then lie down while you three explore.”

Sir’s face darkened. “Our first family vacation and you’re going to sleep through it?”

“We have plenty of time, don’t we?” Mother said. “I only need an hour or so. The drive took it out of me.” She turned and walked down the hallway before he could respond, and closed a bedroom door gently behind her. Jack watched our father nervously, twirling a strand of brown hair between her fingers.

Sir shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

He walked out the back door. Jack and I followed, letting the screen door slam. The three of us waded through the ankle-high grass past centuries-old trees that made the flagpole in the yard look small. The Stars and Stripes waved merrily from their perch. “Woman is always tired,” Sir grumbled.

Thirty feet ahead was the man-made lake, olive green and murky. A pier and boathouse stood over the water. Aunt Carol’s motorboat was nestled inside.

Sir clocked the boat and grinned at us. “What do you say, girls?”

“I saw horseshoes in the garage,” I said.

He adjusted his thin-framed glasses and sucked his teeth, glaring at me. He wore his buzz cut so short you could barely see the white-blond hairs.

“I want to learn how to play,” I lied.

“I drove two hours and you want to stay on land? I don’t think so.”

Sir sauntered toward the boathouse, calling over his shoulder, “Jack, let’s get this thing in the water.” She followed him across the overgrown lawn. My sister was only three years older than me, but our bodies had begun to look different. Sir called us his toothpicks when we were little, but that label no longer applied to Jack. She’d started growing curves. I was beyond jealous.

Leaving those two alone was a bad idea. I never knew when she might be in the mood to rat me out. I hurried after them onto the pier.

Like Aunt Carol’s house, the boat was no-frills but well cared for. Sir and Jack hoisted it into the water. He hopped in, and she followed suit. They turned to me, waiting. Angry waves beat the sides of the boat. With seating for four, it was smaller than I’d expected. I chewed my lip.

“Ain’t got all day, sweetheart.” Sir started the engine.

I opened my mouth, swallowed. “I’ll just . . .”

“Get your sister in the boat,” Sir said to Jack. He walked away and glanced around the lake, shielding his eyes from the sun.

Jack reached for my hand. I gave a tiny shake of the head. She exaggerated her reach, stretching toward me. I shook my head again. Her eyes widened, first with fury, then in fear. Now, she mouthed.

I can’t, I mouthed back.

Her eyes darted from my face to Sir’s. He was studying the boat’s dashboard. I could see her doing the calculations: How much longer would he be distracted? What would he do when he realized she hadn’t done what he’d said?

Please, she pleaded.

On one seat, I spotted a bright orange life vest. I could put it on as soon as I stepped aboard. I didn’t want to get my sister in trouble again; you never knew how bad the punishment might be.

I gave her my hand. Relief flooded her face. She pulled me into the boat.

“You’ll be okay,” she said.

I was too busy racing to the back to respond. The life vest was halfway over my head when Sir boomed over the roar of the engine, “Take that thing off.”

I froze, then turned to him.

He arched a blond eyebrow. “Does my driving concern you?”

“No,” I squeaked, tightening my grip on the vest.

He jabbed a thumb toward the house. “We left all the cowards behind today. No daughter of mine needs that thing.”

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