Licentious(2)

 

A huge grin spreads across her face. “Deal!” She giggles before flying out of the car and practically running inside. Following her lead, I sigh and get out of the car. As soon as I walk through the door, I stop in my tracks as I take in the current reprimand that’s happening now. Never fails. I shut the door behind me and make my way to the middle of the living room to stand beside my sister.

 

“So nice of you to join us, Josephine,” my mother snarls. “As I was telling Evelyn, there is a list of chores for the both of you to accomplish. We are having friends over for a barbeque tomorrow. I expect the list to be completed by tonight and for both of you to be present and well rested tomorrow.”

 

“Um, you do realize that it’s our birthday, right?” Eve snaps with disgust clouding her face.

 

“And? You live in this house, my house,” she starts to yell, “you each have responsibilities for being in this family.

 

“It’s our eighteenth birthday! We don’t have to listen to you anymore,” Eve fires back. Anger flushes her cheeks.

 

“If you don’t like it, then pack your bags and leave. But,” she hisses as she stands from her seat on the ugly 70’s style paisley sofa, “if you decide to stay, you will abide by my rules.”

 

“Then why doesn’t Aedan ever have to?” I cut in, forcing my anger down and my keeping voice soft and steady.

 

“Because Aedan is a grown man with a full-time career with the police department, who basically only sleeps here, she replies sternly, but sadness clouds her coffee colored eyes.

 

“Whatever,” Eve sighs as she rips the list from our Mother’s hands. “But you know, Mom, a ‘happy birthday’ would be nice to hear. At least once!” she says as she turns for the stairs that meet the front entryway.

 

I turn to follow just as Mom stops us as bitterness laces her voice.

 

“And what? I suppose you’d want a birthday cake, too? You girls have enough trouble keeping your figures. If it were up to me, you’d never be allowed sweets of any kind. And your father definitely wouldn’t be taking you out every year the night before your birthday for dinner. Empty calories are all that is. The one hour of daily exercise I require of you both definitely is not enough,” she rolls her eyes. “You’re dismissed.” She purses her lips and waves her hand as if we are trash.

 

Bitch. I roll my eyes and lightly shove Eve to make her move up the stairs leading to our room. My Mom has always been like this. As far as I know, she’s hated Eve and I since she found out she wasn’t carrying boys. Our bodies are never good enough. Our talents are worthless to her. Our grades are never good enough, even if we have straight A’s. We aren’t pretty enough. Basically, we aren’t good enough. I don’t know what we ever did for her to hate us, but it royally pisses me off.

 

My father, on the other hand, I love dearly. He tends to be bitched at by Mom a lot when it comes to us. Sometimes he cowers and gives in, and other times, he stands up for us to her. Eve and I are both total daddy’s girls. Always will be.

 

“God, she’s such a bitch!” Eve vents as she throws her backpack on her bed before flopping down beside it. We live in a remodeled cape-cod home with four bedrooms and four baths if you include the remodeled basement. Eve and I share the upstairs as our own little sanctuary. We could revamp the floor to give us each our ‘own’ space, but what for? We are together all the time anyway.

 

“And you’re just realizing this now? Really, Eve?” I ask her as I make my way over to set my bag next to the foot of the bed. I take off my shoes and start to strip my clothes to change into my workout gear.

 

“What the fuck are you doing, Joey?” she asks me in disgust.

 

“Um… we have an hour workout to complete and that stupid Cinderella chore list. I can’t miss tonight, Eve. So get up, let’s do this.” I spin toward her, place my hands on my hips, and shoot her my most determined look I can muster up.

 

“Joey. We. Are. Eighteen. That means we don’t have to work out,” she reminds me.

 

“Yes. I know technically we don’t have to, but do you have a place for us to stay when she decides to kick us out?”

 

“No. And we don’t need to. You know Dad won’t allow her to kick us out,” she says without doubt.

 

“I hope not,” I mutter.

 

“Let’s get ready for tonight. We’ll talk to Dad when he gets home, okay?” she asks as she places her hands on my shoulders. “Okay?”