Home with My Sisters Read Free Page B

couldn’t see that. But that wasn’t the only reason she wanted to end things with Michael. And maybe all her reasons were all little things, things other women would consider trifling—but the little things added up.
    â€œLook at the size of that bass!” he said. “That’s a whopper.”
    â€œWow,” Hope said. “Size does matter.” She could see him nod. He didn’t register sarcasm. She felt mean. But seriously. Did he expect her to get excited over a fish? She didn’t understand the male brain. Slippery, and elusive. Like a fish? Just because one lived in the Pacific Northwest did not mean they loved freaking fish. Maybe, if he had ever tried to get excited about dogs, she would have tried to get excited about fish. At least dogs were incredible companions. And smart. So, so smart. Could you say the same about fish? Could you cuddle up on the sofa with a bass? Was it all about stringing it up and posing for the picture? Sometimes she thought men weren’t just from different planets, they were off in their own solar system.
    Be nice, Hope. As soon as the holidays were over, she was going to end this relationship as neatly as possible. She would let him down gently. She would put it in a language he understood. As you know, Michael. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Holidays should not be about heartbreak. Would Michael be heartbroken? She doubted it. Hope tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and went back to silently begging her sisters to spend Christmas with her this year.
    â€œAs long as you’re pacing, would you get me a pilsner?” Michael called out. Hope rolled her eyes, knowing he’d never turn around to see it. She headed for the fridge. He was on his third beer within the hour. She shouldn’t be counting, it was Sunday, they weren’t going anywhere, but she knew by the end of the day the six-pack would be gone, and he might even rummage through her cupboards for some hard liquor, and he would fall asleep on the sofa and snore. She was twenty-eight. Not married, no kids. Was this really the life she wanted? He wasn’t a drunk now, but if he kept this up, what would he be like in ten years? It was too reminiscent of her parents. But she didn’t say a word. She didn’t want to fight. She handed him another beer and headed for the hall between the living room and her bedroom where she could pace in relative peace. She wished he’d just go home, but in order to get her wish, she’d actually have to have a conversation with him. One she didn’t want to face right now. Right now she had to focus on her sisters.
    Christmas with their mother, or Carla as they’d been ordered to call her, hadn’t happened for at least six years. Maybe seven? And Carla was definitely out this year—she’d already announced she was going to Cuba with her latest boyfriend, but her sisters hadn’t made any such proclamations. Yet. Hope had a small window; if she wanted to nail down plans for Christmas, she was going to have to pounce.
    Last year they told her she’d waited too late. “Sorry, Hope,” Faith said. “We’re going to visit Stephen’s mother. If only you had said something earlier.”
    â€œSame here,” Joy said. “It’s too late to change my plans as well.”
    â€œWhat plans?” Hope asked.
    â€œFriends on the east coast,” Joy said, leaving it at that. Hope was convinced Joy had no such plans, but accusing your little sister of being a liar usually didn’t go over so well.
    The year before, they said she’d asked too early. “I can’t even think about Christmas this early,” Faith said. “Let us get through the start of the school year, would you?”
    â€œI don’t even know what I’m doing tomorrow let alone Christmas,” Joy said. Hope didn’t know when her sisters had morphed into Goldilocks—too hot, too