“Trouble at home?”
“She’s turned up here more than once in tears. Told her more than once I don’t like the fellas she’s meeting. That just makes her more defiant.”
“Sounds like her,” I said, chuckling to myself, “Has she mentioned anything?”
“Her work is mostly online, so I’m left thinking she can live wherever she wants. They might want her in the office occasionally, but with the ways things changed after Covid…”
“What about you, Dad?”
“I’ve got my fiancée here now and a couple of young step-children. I’ve raised my kids as well as I could. You are your own people now. Kids spread their wings. Plus, I know your mother would love to have you both close by.”
I figured talking to my little sister might be best. Her name was Amanda, though she preferred Amy. She was three years younger than I was, currently 22 years old. The brains of the siblings while I was the brawn, I guess you could say. She’d aced high school and had the pick of her universities, though chose the one closest to home. She’d always been a quiet, considerate girl and then young woman. Unlike most sibling relationships I was aware of, we rarely had a problem. I supported her when I could, particularly once I was working, helping her out financially if she needed a little help, and simply offering support and guidance otherwise, particularly when it came to dating young men. As for my sister, once I started working and returned home exhausted after some rather long days, she’d sometimes come in with a drink or a snack for me, or even cook dinner if the parents were out. It was those little things that meant we were always close.
She’d graduated university with honours and had taken time to choose the right career that suited her needs. She rented a small apartment in the inner-west, putting in plenty of hours each day and week, but I knew she was making plenty of money very quickly. We saw each other at least once a week for dinner, and I knew she was hurt about Hayley as they’d been rather good friends. Hayley had never been jealous of the close relationship I had with my younger sibling, something I could at least give her credit for.
Letting her know I was coming around, it was better catching a train than driving and trying to park. Knocking on the door a couple of hours later, she opened it and immediately hugged me. Always amusing as I was just under six foot while she was barely five-three at best. She had brunette hair, cut shot so it stopped at her neck line, light blue eyes, the remnants of freckles on her cheeks, and the sort of face that certainly made plenty of men double take and have thoughts about. She was about a C-cup, the only reason I knew was I did laundry and was simply curious, but her best feature, from a purely objective viewpoint, was her arse and legs. She asked me more than once about her best features, and I was always honest, and it earned one of those warm smiles that suggested she was happy to be complimented, even if it was from her sibling.
Leading me towards her living room, she made me sit down first before she returned from the kitchen within seconds with a beer for me, wine cooler for herself. I’m sure she didn’t want to ask but I gave her a brief outline of everything that happened. More than once she called her a bitch, which made me chuckle. My sister was honest to a fault at times.
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