Page 25 of Corrupted Union
“But … I can’t keep it in any longer. Leo is the first person since Dad died who has really given me attention. It feels nice. But it hurts if you think I’m some weirdo who could never attract the attention of a man.”
“Oh, Franny.” She pulls me down next to her, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “I give you attention.”
“You’re my sister. It’s not the same.”
“You’re right.” Her words surprise me. “It’s not the same. But you can do so much better than Leo, trust me. You’re not a weirdo, and I never should have said you were. Any man would be lucky to have you. You came here so I could help you find a suitable match, and that’s what I’m going to do. But first, let’s go to a museum and get our minds off it. Have a fun sister day. Just you and me. It’ll be like old times.”
“Like when Dad was still alive.”
“Yeah.” Her smile is sad.
“He always told me to stand up for myself. You did, too. I’m not very good at it.”
She squeezes my shoulder, pressing her head against mine. “I think you’re going a good job at it. Now, which museum do you want to go to?” My sister’s effort makes me smile.
* * *
My dadreally tried to get me to be my own advocate, but whenever I was around someone who made me nervous, I’d clam up.
Like the day I worked up the courage to ask my mom to read a short story I’d written when I was twelve. I first showed it to my dad, who read all of the ten hand-written pages and looked at me with pride.
“This is lovely, honey,” he said. It was one of his rare nights off from work. “You have a talent.”
I beamed under his praise. “Thanks, Dad.”
“You should go show it to your mom.”
I instantly shook my head. “She won’t want to read it.”
“You won’t know unless you ask her. So, go.” He nudged me toward the kitchen. With a deep breath, I entered the room and found my mom at the table, helping Gemma with her homework.
“I don’t understand this,” Gemma muttered, tossing her pencil down.
“Gemma,” Mom scolded. She did that a lot to Gemma. “This is basic math. You can do this.”
“If it’s so easy, then you do it.” Gemma threw the pencil at Mom, who had to duck out of the way.
“Gemma!”
“What! I don’t understand this stupid math homework. What’s the point? It’s all just stupid numbers that don’t make any sense. Why do I need to learn this?”
“Because … because …”
“Because what?” Gemma pointed at her. “See? Even you don’t know.”
Mom slammed her hand onto the table, picking the pencil up and handing it to Gemma. “Not everything needs a point in life. You just do it. Now, you are going to get this. You have to work at it.”
Emilia came into the kitchen, smiling at me before wandering over to Gemma. “Need help?”
“Where’s Mia?” Mom asked.
“I read her to sleep,” Emilia said as she grabbed Gemma’s homework and looked it over. “I remember how to do this. I can help.”
Mom’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank you, honey.” She kissed Emilia on the head and Gemma a quick frown before turning to me. She jumped, holding her hand over her heart. “Oh, Francesca. I didn’t see you there. You scared me. I’ll have to put a bell around your neck, I swear.”
I thrusted the pages in my hands towards her. “I wrote a short story.”
“Oh.” Her voice was filled with mild curiosity mixed with exhaustion and resignation.