The Woman in 3B - Eliza Lentzski Page 0,74

than a piano recital,” I couldn’t help add.

Anissa turned to appraise me. “Is there a reason you don’t want me to meet your family? Am I a dirty little secret you don’t want them finding out about?” Her tone was light and teasing, but I could sense the insecurity and self-doubt embedded in her words.

“I don’t really get along with my sister,” I admitted. “Everything ends up becoming a competition, and I’m always on the losing end.”

“Am I cuter than her husband?”

I didn’t quite understand the trajectory of her question. “Oh, for sure—that’s not even debatable.”

“I don’t mind if you want to show me off,” she said. “I’m okay with being a trophy.”

“You’re so much more than a pretty face,” I denied.

“I know,” she grinned, dimples on full display. “I’m a hot body, too.”

+ + +

My sister and her family lived in the northern Detroit suburb of Bloomfield Hills. Medium home values neared the $1 million dollar mark and the public schools consistently received A+ ratings. It was the perfect environment for a show-off like my sister.

My niece’s piano recital was being held in her elementary school’s gymnasium. A small, elevated stage had been set up at one side of the gym. Rows of metal folding chairs faced the performance space. I looked around the well-lit space, but didn’t immediately recognize any familiar faces.

I saw my nephew, Peter, first. He had a shock of red hair, like his father, and he stuck out amongst the sea of blonds and brunettes in the gymnasium. My sister, Dawn, sat in the chair next to him.

I took a quick breath. “It’s not too late to change your mind,” I told the woman standing beside me. “I hear Bloomfield Hills has a Frank Lloyd Wright house we could visit.”

Anissa grabbed my arm and held onto the crook of my elbow. “Come on, Kaminski,” she urged. “You shouldn’t neglect family.”

My feet began moving, first the right and then the left. I couldn’t understand the feeling of dread I experienced as we shuffled towards Dawn and Peter. Maybe it was because I could think of a million other things I’d rather be doing on my day off. Or maybe it was because I didn’t know how to introduce Anissa to my family. Were we just friends? Was she a girl I was dating? Or was she actually my girlfriend?

I stopped at the end of the row where Dawn and Peter sat. I waved in their direction, until my sister spotted the movement. “Hey,” I awkwardly greeted.

It took Dawn a second to recognize me. Her face was initially blank when she looked in my direction.

“Hey. I wasn’t expecting you,” she said. “I would have saved you a seat.” She glanced once in Anissa’s direction. “Or two.”

“I didn’t know it myself,” I admitted, “but Anissa,” I nodded towards the woman at my right, “said we should come.”

I gave myself a mental high-five. I’d introduced Anissa to my sister while simultaneously avoiding defining our relationship.

Dawn’s eyes shrewdly narrowed. “You brought flowers?”

I looked down at the assorted mix of flowers in their cellophane wrapping. They had been another of Anissa’s thoughtful suggestions on our drive out to the suburbs. “They’re for Junie,” I said. “Where’s David?”

I reflexively looked in the surrounding area, but I didn’t see my sister’s husband. I liked David fine, but I couldn’t recall us ever hanging out or even having a conversation, just the two of us.

“Work,” Dawn said. “He got called in for an emergency surgery.”

I could have made a snide comment about her husband’s job being as inflexible and unpredictable as mine, but I only nodded instead.

The people seated in my sister’s row moved down so Anissa and I could sit next to my family. My nephew, Peter, sat between my sister and me. Anissa sat in the seat to my other side. I was thankful for the physical space between Dawn and myself. I felt far more comfortable making small-talk with a five-year-old boy than with her.

“Is your sister any good?” I asked him, gesturing to the piano on the elevated stage.

His freckled nose scrunched. “No.”

I knocked my shoulder against his smaller, bonier one. “Be nice.”

His face remained comically contorted. “You don’t have to listen to her practice.”

The lights in the gymnasium flickered, indicating the performance was about to start. The conversations around us quieted and the few stragglers who’d remained standing took their seats among the family and friends in the sparse audience.

A small, older woman in a long, flower-patterned skirt and