“We decided that our priorities weren’t compatible.”

She huffed and it sounded impatient. “In English, please. This ain’t a parent teacher conference.”

“Um, I guess he wanted one thing out of a relationship, and I wanted something else.”

Tina pursed her lips, her eyes losing focus as she considered my words. While I waited for her to finish thinking her thoughts, I sipped my tea and glanced at the specials board; Daisy’s pie of the day was apple.

“I’m not jealous.”

I shifted my attention from the list of pies to Tina. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not jealous, of you and Duane. I don’t care who he sees. You’re welcome to him, if I’m the reason you decided to call things off.”

I lifted my chin in acknowledgement, but said nothing. Because I wasn’t sure what to say. Tina hadn’t been a consideration in my decision to date or not date Duane. I wondered if that made me unfeeling. But then I reminded myself that Tina and I hadn’t really spoken in over eight years, the first four of which she’d snubbed me for more popular kids at our school.

Yeah…I wasn’t going to factor Tina into my dating decisions. That would be silliness.

“I just wanted to let you know that,” she said, as though she were being generous. “Duane and I were together for a long time and what we felt for each other, well I just think first love is really special. He’ll always mean something to me. But it’s over now and I’ve moved on. I hate to think of him pining for me.”

Again, I lifted my chin in acknowledgement—higher this time—and found myself without words. Thankfully Beverly interrupted by bringing our salads.

I changed the topic to one I hoped would be much more benign and asked her what she’d been up to recently. This turned into her giving me the oral history of Green Valley gossip for the last four years—who was sleeping with whom, who had divorced, had illegitimate babies, had a drug problem, was in debt. She made Green Valley sound like a sordid train wreck.

Strangely, while she spoke I found myself distracted by how incredibly hot she was. I mean, she was sex personified. Her movements were sensual, including how she chewed her food. Her smile was coy, alluring, captivating. She’d say something like, That little fucker got what he deserved and I hardly heard the venom in her voice because she somehow made it sound erotic.

I was thankful when dinner was over and her biker fella arrived to fetch her, because I was…exhausted. Maybe it was a by-product of my long work week paired with the Duane-funk, or maybe it was just the tidal wave of sexual energy that was my cousin Tina.

Either way, as I pedaled home, I felt bereft and depressed and wished I’d thought to grab a slice of Daisy’s pecan pie before leaving.

***

“What’s wrong, baby sister?”

I sighed, hugged the pillow I was holding a bit closer. I hadn’t been able to go to sleep. The depression followed me home and, though I was tired and tried lying in bed, in the dark, with my eyes shut for over an hour, sleep would not come.

So I took a shower, hoping it would help me relax, and it worked. I felt a bit better when I shut off the water. But then Sir Edmund Hilary—my psychotic cat—tried to murder me with his litter box. He’d pushed it directly in front of the shower door and I’d stepped on it, stumbled, and fallen to the floor with a squawk and a thud.

It occurred to me that, had I been living alone and Sir Hillary knew how to wield a knife, I’d be dead and no one would find me for days, maybe months.

This thought reignited my depression. So I cleaned up, dried off, and went to the kitchen. I made hot cocoa with a liberal amount of Baileys, and channel surfed in the family room, hoping I’d pass out eventually on the couch absent thoughts of my inevitable and lonely death by psycho-cat.

Instead, I was still up at 2:21 a.m., which signified the end of Jackson’s shift. I was never up this late, so I guessed it made sense he’d assume something was amiss.

“Sir Edmund tried to murder me,” I said.

“Again?”

I nodded. “His attempts grow bolder. I think it might be time to confront him, or at the very least move his litter box to the basement.”

“Jess, the cat tries to take your life at least once a week. It’s not the cat. Tell me what’s wrong.”

I sighed again, not sure I wanted to discuss my depression with Jackson. “I had dinner with Tina tonight.”

“Our cousin Tina?”

“Yeah.”

Jackson crossed the room and sat next to me on the couch; he was still in his uniform, though his belt was gone. “She’s still dancing at the Pink Pony,” he said.

“Yes. I know.”

“And I think she’s mixed up with the Order.” Jackson paired these words with a sad sounding sigh.

“Yes. I know that, too…”

“Is that what’s got you down? Are you worried about her?”

I considered the question. I was a bit worried about her involvement with the bikers…but not really. She didn’t strike me as the kind of person anyone could take advantage of. Rather, if anyone was going to do the taking advantage, it would be Tina.

“Kind of. I mean, I’m a little worried for her. Based on what you and Daddy have told me about the Iron Order, they’re certainly not trustworthy.”

“They’re dangerous. And she’s going to get herself hurt if she keeps it up.”

“But I guess I’m also thinking…” I huffed. I didn’t know what I was thinking or why I was feeling so dissonant. Therefore, I didn’t know how to have this conversation with Jackson. He was my brother and therefore any discussion about Duane and Tina would be weird. Because at some point over the last five hours I’d realized my depression was related to my Duane-funk.

Tired of my hesitation, he pushed, “What are you thinking?”

I needed to talk to Claire at work in the morning, or call one of my old college roommates.

“Jess?” He prodded again, poking me in the shoulder.

“You don’t want to have this conversation.”

“Try me.”

I glanced at my big brother, found him watching me with determination—like he was determined to be helpful—and I felt myself waver.

He was a guy after all. Maybe he could give me some perspective.

Finally, I relented. I tucked one of my legs under me as I faced him. “So, first you have to forget I’m your sister, that Tina is your cousin, and that you hate Duane Winston.”

Jackson lifted a single eyebrow and his mouth flattened. “That’s unlikely.”

“Okay, never mind then.”

I moved to stand up, but Jackson caught my arm and kept me from leaving. “Now, wait a minute. I said it was unlikely, not impossible. Fine…fine, I’ll do my best. You’re not my sister, Tina’s not my cousin, and Duane Winston isn’t a horse’s ass.”

I scowled at my brother. He smiled. I supposed it was the best I could hope for.

“Fine. So, here’s my question…” I gathered a large breath and held it in my lungs as I tried to figure out what question I wanted to ask. When I could hold my breath no longer, my half-formed thoughts emerged. “So, here’s the thing, Tina is sexy. Like, really sexy. She’s got a perfect body and she’s insanely beautiful. Add to that she’s a stripper and erotic without trying to be and…I don’t know. I guess, I don’t understand why Duane would break up with her when she is basically every man’s fantasy. Why would he break up with her?”

Jackson studied me for a long moment, then surprised me by countering with, “Why would he break up with her? Or are you really asking me: why would Duane Winston choose you over making Tina Patterson his girl?”

I straightened, started to deny what he was implying, but then stopped myself.

He was right. That was the real question even though I hadn’t consciously thought it. It was the question stuck in my subconscious like a popcorn kernel buried between teeth.

I sighed. “Please don’t try to reassure me that I’m pretty. I’m…it’s not really a question of prettiness, is it? But, you’re right. I don’t understand why Duane would break up with Tina and then go out with someone like me.”