ON THE MORNING of the Second Sisters’ Summit, Perri woke to find the sun sparkling in a cloudless blue sky. The weather gods had cooperated. She’d been hoping to do the meal outside. That wish, it seemed, would be granted. She’d also made arrangements for Mike to take all three kids to Rye Playland until midafternoon. After the Lexus pulled away in a cloud of juice boxes and sun visors, Perri sighed with pleasure at the quiet around her. Then she got to work setting the table.
She’d already decided on the color scheme (Provençal-inspired yellow and blue); the centerpiece (forsythia branches clipped from the garden); and the menu (croques monsieur made in her new sandwich press). If Jennifer Yu didn’t eat ham, Perri thought, that was too bad! A tossed green salad and walnut brownies would round out the meal. Perri was also planning to mix up some homemade lemonade. Keen to convey how comfortable she was in her own life and skin, she’d dressed for the occasion in a new jean skirt, yellow sandals, and breezy floral silk-chiffon blouse. Not that she was feeling particularly comfortable about anything. But in the weeks since the world as she’d known it had ceased to exist, she’d become more resigned to the idea that there was only so much you could control on this planet. Possibly, you couldn’t control a damn thing.
The previous week, Gus had arranged for both Bob and Jennifer to spit in cups. She’d then had the globules analyzed at a lab. The results had come back five days later and had indicated a match. Which meant that Jennifer was indeed Perri’s older half sister. How could she turn the woman away? And how could she ever forgive her father? It wasn’t just the crime of cheating on Carol for which Perri held him accountable. It was the fact that he’d stripped Perri of her entire identity, as the elder stateswoman of the Hellinger Sisters. It was as if she’d found out the world was flat after a lifetime of having been told it was round. Jennifer’s earlier date of birth wasn’t the only thing that rankled Perri. From the information she’d gleaned via Google, her new sister was the most distinguished and impressive Hellinger sister of all: a Harvard Medical School graduate who spent her days saving children with cancer. How could Perri begin to compete? All she had to offer society was creative solutions to closet clutter. It was enough to make Perri want to hide in one of the storage boxes she marketed and never come out again.
But in couples counseling in Mamaroneck, “Dr. Jane” was encouraging both her and Mike to face their fears and also to be more honest and open about them with each other. (Wary of running into someone he knew, Mike had begrudgingly agreed to attend ten sessions on the condition that they didn’t see a therapist in Larchmont.) They’d been to only two sessions so far. Yet it seemed to Perri that a lot had already been accomplished. Mike had admitted that, on account of his job loss, he’d felt inadequate. Perri had conceded that, following the birth of her third child, she’d begun to doubt her own attractiveness. Both she and Mike had also confessed to having at least flirted with the idea of extramarital affairs. To Perri’s horror, Mike had copped to coming on to her sister Olympia after Perri disappeared to Florida, though only after she gave him “welcoming signals,” whatever those were. Perri realized she’d probably never learn the truth about what had happened that night in the kids’ bathroom. Meanwhile, she’d admitted to meeting up, albeit consummating nothing, with Roy Marley in South Beach. “Jesus Christ—not Rasta Roy!!” Mike had bellowed at the revelation.
“Can you try not to be racist?” Perri had countered. “The guy is from Chevy Chase, Maryland. Okay? And his father was an orthodontist.”
“Whatever. The guy was an asshole twenty years ago and he still is! And he tried to fuck my wife.”
“People. People,” Jane had interrupted them in her soothing therapist voice. “Let’s concentrate on saying constructive things to each other. Using profanity is not constructive in this situation. Perri, why don’t you go first and apologize to Mike for saying something that was purposefully hurtful.”
“Why do I have to go first?” Perri had whined.
“Because I asked you to,” Jane had replied, further convincing Perri that she was on Mike’s side. Even so, she’d gone ahead and apologized (though it had almost killed her to do so). Perri had also taken Jane’s advice that she and Mike try to “reengage with their courtship years.” The night before last, they’d gone on a proper dinner date in the city and had even played footsie under the table. But while they were waiting for their tuna steaks to arrive, Mike had started humming Bob Marley’s “No Woman, No Cry.” Footsie had soon deteriorated into shin kicking. “That’s really not funny,” Perri had declared. Not surprisingly, they’d eaten dessert in silence. However, later in the evening, on their way back to Larchmont, they’d had their first real post-breakup laugh talking about the skinny kid on Aiden’s Little League team who’d lost his pants while running to second base. And in the parking lot, after their date night, they’d kissed.
They’d also decided to get a live-in au pair to help with the extra housework and childcare. (Dolores had announced that she was planning to move back to Colombia that summer to be closer to her family.) Perri had only one stipulation regarding the new person: no one from Sweden, Norway, Finland, or France. Preferred countries of origin: Bulgaria, Romania, Albania, and Moldova. The agency had promised to come up with a name by the following Monday.
She and Mike still hadn’t made love. But maybe, some time soon…
Jennifer Yu had been invited for one p.m., Perri’s “real sisters” for twelve thirty. Or, rather, Perri had invited Olympia for noon with the assumption that she’d be at least a half hour late, as she always was. With any luck, Olympia and Gus would show up at the same time and well before Jennifer did.
So much for planning well… The bell rang at twelve sharp. Praying it was the FedEx guy—Perri hadn’t even washed the parsley yet!—she opened the door and found Olympia wearing practically the same outfit that she herself had on: a jean skirt, flat sandals, and a billowy chiffon blouse. “Oh, it’s you!” said Perri. “Looking like me.”
“Nice outfit,” said Olympia, seemingly taken aback, as well.
At least this time, Perri didn’t have to worry about being mocked for her sartorial choices, she thought. And yet the sight of Olympia standing there, looking like a clone of her, only a comelier version, made Perri’s blood pressure rise. Had Olympia been wearing the same shade of lip gloss the night that Mike tried to kiss her? She wondered. And when, if ever, would Perri be able to forgive her sister and husband for their transgressions? “Same to you,” Perri said quickly. “Meanwhile, what are you doing here already?”
“You told me to come at noon.”
“But I meant twelve thirty.”
“Then you should have said twelve thirty.”
“But you’re always late.”
Olympia rolled her eyes. “I’m not always anything—you’re as bad as Mom with the constant labeling!”
Perri flinched at the charge. In truth, she’d always identified with Carol’s need to define what was what. And, at the same time, she liked to imagine herself as being a more refined version of their mother, who had all the social graces of a buffalo. “Fine. Come in. It’ll be a little while before Gus and What’s Her Name arrive.”
“You mean, our half sister, Jennifer?” said Olympia.
“Whatever. She doesn’t have my last name. Until that happens, she’s What’s Her Name.”
Olympia followed Perri into the backyard, where she sat down on the wooden swing beneath the giant oak and raised her face to the sun. “I didn’t feel like talking about it when I saw you in Hastings, but I quit my job,” she said. “Or, I guess you could say, it quit me.”
“Huh,” said Perri, not all that surprised. It seemed to be a biannual occurrence. “Well, congratulations, or I’m sorry—depending on how happy you are to be out of there.”
“I’m happy actually. I might take some time off from looking for a new job and devote myself to painting. For as long as I can afford it, that is.”
“That sounds like a good plan.”
“I hope so.”
“You don’t like committing to one thing for too long, anyway.”
Olympia dug her toes into the dirt, so the swing came to a stop. “You really hate me, don’t you?” she said, squinting at her sister. “Like, you fundamentally dislike everything about me.”
Perri was caught off guard. She’d never really thought about it that way. “Look, I don’t hate you,” she said, balling up a paper napkin. “But, to be honest, it hasn’t been easy thinking about my husband making a pass at you.”
“It hasn’t been easy for me, either,” said Olympia.
“Oh, really?” said Perri, dubious of the claim.
“Over the years, I’ve gotten a lot of attention for the way I look—I admit it,” Olympia went on.
Could her sister’s ego be any larger?! “And?” asked Perri.
“And I feel like this thing with Mike has just reinforced your impression of me as some dumb bimbo or, even worse, evil temptress.” Perri was about to deny the charge, if only to deny Olympia some of the sexual potency of which she so clearly thought she was in possession—when Olympia declared, “That’s not who I am. I’m actually a pretty sensitive person. And it’s been hard for me, watching you and Gus become such successes, while my career, if you can even call it that, has been one big flop.”
“You’re an artist,” said Perri, surprised to find herself taking pity.
“An artist?” Olympia laughed. “Wow, thanks. I think you’re the first person ever to call me that. In New York, you actually have to sell art to be able to call yourself an artist.”
“No, you just have to be talented.” Perri couldn’t imagine why she was being so nice.
“Gee thanks,” said Olympia. She paused to watch a squirrel stick its nose into the ground. “If you want me to be even more honest, it’s not your husband I covet”—she motioned with her chin toward the garden—“it’s this. You have a real home out here. I’ll never have anything like this. For one thing, I’ll never be able to afford it.”
“But I thought you’d rather die than have two point three kids and live in suburbia,” said Perri, surprised by Olympia’s admission. “That’s what you always said.”
“I never said that,” said Olympia.
“Well, you implied it,” said Perri.
“Well, maybe I changed my mind.”
Just then Gus walked in. “Twin alert,” she said, noting the clothing coincidence.
“Hey, at least I’m not wearing a hood ornament around my neck,” said Olympia, dabbing at her eyes.
“It’s not a hood ornament,” said Gus. “It’s a laughing Buddha. It’s supposed to be a good luck symbol. He’s the patron of the weak and poor.” She paused. “Debbie gave it to me.”
“Debbie?” asked Olympia.
“Wait—are you trying to tell us that you and Debbie got back together?!” asked Perri.
“I’m not trying to tell you anything,” said Gus. “But yes, we got back together.”
“Wow—congratulations,” said Olympia.
“You’re kidding—that’s fantastic news!” cried Perri, who could hardly contain her relief. She hadn’t realized how much she’d detested the idea of Gus and Jeff being a couple until she discovered they definitely weren’t anymore. That phase of Gus’s life appeared to be over, thank goodness. The Sims family was once again Perri’s private domain to love and loathe. Who could have guessed that Perri would have been so happy to think her youngest sister was a lesbian, after all?
A short while later, the doorbell rang. There was only one person left who it could be. Perri took a deep breath, sucked in her stomach, and strode to the door. Olympia and Gus hung back in the hall, near the console. A beautiful and elegant Asian woman soon appeared in the doorframe, backlit by a gleaming sun. “Hello,” she said. She was wearing a lightweight beige power pantsuit to outpower all of Perri’s previous attempts to exude sanguinity, capability, and calm. A single gold bangle hung from her wrist. “Welcome. You must be Jennifer,” she said, meeting the woman’s outstretched hand and scanning her face for signs of her father. (She could find none.)
“And you must be Perri,” said Jennifer. “It’s a pleasure to meet you finally.”
Just then Olympia appeared at Perri’s side and greeted Jennifer with kisses to both cheeks. As if they were already old friends. The gesture made Perri wince. Then it was Gus’s turn. To Perri’s surprise and fascination—she could finally see her baby sister for the person she was in the outside world—Gus went into full attorney mode. “It’s nice to meet you in person, finally,” she said in a richly textured and self-assured voice. She shook Jennifer’s hand with two of her own, then draped an arm over Jennifer’s knifelike shoulder blades and escorted her down the hall and into the backyard.
“What a beautiful house and garden you have,” said Jennifer, turning to Perri.
“Thank you,” said Perri, pleased by the compliment. “Can I get you some fresh lemonade?”
“That sounds delicious.” Jennifer took off her suit jacket and carefully folded it over the back of a patio chair, revealing a pristine sleeveless blouse that showed off her well-toned upper arms.
Five minutes later, Perri returned with a sparkling glass pitcher and skinny glasses embellished with drawings of summer fruits. Jennifer and Olympia were now seated on the patio set. Gus stood nearby, her hands in the pockets of her black men’s pants. Perri poured four drinks, dropped lemon wedges in each one, and took her own seat—at the head of the table. “So where do you live?” she asked Jennifer. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Not at all. I live in a suburb of Minneapolis called Eden Prairie,” said Jennifer.
“It must be freezing,” said Perri. She couldn’t believe she was talking about the weather.
“In the winter, yes.”
“And do you live—alone? with family?” Was that too personal a question to ask your own—sister? Perri couldn’t help but notice the lack of any gemstones on her hands…
Jennifer cleared her throat. “I’m actually separated, as of recently.”
The news startled and, in truth, secretly pleased Perri. So Jennifer Yu’s life wasn’t all success stories, after all. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said as compassionately as she could.
Jennifer smiled tightly. “It’s fine. It’s very amicable. My ex and I have a daughter who’s turning eleven this month, and we share custody.”
“Funny. I have a son who just turned ten,” volunteered Perri, feeling competitive once again. It didn’t seem entirely fair that Jennifer’s daughter was a whole year older than Perri’s oldest son.
“Oh,” said Jennifer. “That’s great.”
“He and his younger sister and brother are out with their father right now.”
“Three kids!”
“Yup.” Perri laughed proudly. “Three crazy kids!”
“And I have a daughter who’s about to turn four,” volunteered Olympia.
“Four is such a wonderful age,” said Jennifer. “I still remember Lily asking the funniest questions.”
“And I’m a lesbian and have no children,” said Gus, not to be outdone.
“Cool,” said Jennifer, still nodding.
“So where exactly did you grow up?” asked Perri.
“In Northern California.”
“And for college?”
“Stanford,” said Jennifer. “Many years ago now.” She laughed.
“Hey, I’m no spring chicken myself,” said Perri. “My twentieth reunion at Penn is next year.”
“Penn! Very impressive, too,” said Jennifer.
“Thank you,” said Perri, smarting. The “too” had sounded patronizing. It also felt like permission to ask her own rude question. “So forgive me for asking this, Jennifer, but I don’t quite understand why your mother never told our father she was pregnant.”
There was silence. Olympia and Gus both visibly drew in their breath. Jennifer took a sip of lemonade. Then she put down her glass, and said, “I honestly don’t know the answer to that, and my mother is dead. So I can’t ask her.”
“I’m sorry,” said Gus.
“She died a lot of years ago now,” said Jennifer. “But thank you.”
“And do you mind me asking when you decided to find out who ‘Bob’ was?” asked Perri.
“I’d thought about it in my twenties,” said Jennifer. “I got serious about the idea in my thirties, after I had Lily. I wanted to be able to tell her who her other grandparents were. So a year and a half ago, I hired a private investigator.”
“A private investigator?!” Perri envisioned a black sedan with tinted windows trailing Bob across the aqueduct on his ten-speed.
“There was no other way to find you guys,” Jennifer said with a quick laugh. “I actually sat on the information for a while. Then, when I got offered the fellowship in New York, it felt like fate.” She laughed again—nervously this time, it seemed to Perri.
“Right” and “Hmm,” the Hellinger sisters murmured in unison.
“Do you want to see a picture of Lily?” she asked.
Again, they concurred in triplicate.
Jennifer pulled out her phone, scrolled to a photo of Lily wearing a short white skirt and swinging a tennis racquet, black pigtails flying, and passed it around.
“Adorable,” said Olympia.
“Is your daughter in New York with you?” asked Perri.
“She’s with her father right now. She had a tournament this weekend.”
“She’s a tennis player,” said Jennifer. “She’s actually ranked number one right now in the twelve and unders, Northern section. Which basically means Minnesota and the two Dakotas.”
“Impressive,” Perri said miserably. Sadie’s only athletic achievements involved the Hula-Hoop. And Aiden, while a decent slugger, didn’t run to first base so much as jiggle. “I’m actually an aspiring tennis player myself.”
“Well, she’s flying here to meet me after the school year ends. Maybe she could give you some tips!”
“Great!”
“She’s actually going to start sixth grade in the city this fall.”
“Where?” Perri couldn’t help but ask.
“Spence. They don’t usually take transfer students, but we got lucky.”
“Wow. Gwyneth Paltrow’s alma mater!” said Perri, bristling again, this time at what she felt to be Jennifer’s subtle gloating.
Just then, Jennifer choked up. Dabbing at her eyes with her knuckles, she looked from one to the other of them, and said, “You know, when I was growing up, I always dreamed of having a sister. I actually had an imaginary one—named Priscilla.”
“That’s sweet,” said Perri, guilty to have had such negative thoughts about this woman who had clearly grown up with so little and accomplished so much and who wanted so badly what she and her sisters possibly didn’t even want themselves.
“That’s funny,” said Gus. “Because I had an imaginary brother named Vance.”
“Well, we’re all yours if you want us!” said Olympia. Perri wished her sister would speak for herself.
They ate and talked more about their children. What other neutral topic was there? Finally, Jennifer stood up. “Anyway, I should probably be heading out.”
“So soon?” asked Perri, who actually couldn’t wait for the woman to leave. She was even chicer than Olympia. She had great hair—a thick shiny affair that went halfway down her back and didn’t appear to have been colored. (Perri had started dyeing hers the year before.) Her good works put Gus’s to shame. And she was even more put together than Perri—and, for all Perri knew, made more money too. Plus, her daughter was a tennis prodigy, of all things! Worst of all, Jennifer Yu was perfectly pleasant. Perri couldn’t even hate her—that was the most infuriating part. Though Perri did hate her—for forever destroying her picture of her parents as the most happily married people in North America. Never mind her picture of her father as a space cadet par excellence. It turned out the Led Zeppelin–style shirts weren’t just for show; Bob had actually had the rock ’n’ roll lifestyle to match, Perri thought—or, at least, as close as you could get to one and still be a particle physicist. There was also the picture of Perri herself to consider. Was it possible that she and Jennifer bore a resemblance? Outsiders were always commenting that the Hellinger sisters looked nothing alike. But maybe Perri had finally found her doppelgänger, albeit the size-two, half-Chinese version…
They walked Jennifer to the door. “Definitely let me know when Lily is back in town,” Perri told her. “I’d love to get her together with my kids.” Did she really mean this?
“Definitely,” said Jennifer. “You could also come visit us in the city. We’re here through next summer at least.”
“Sounds great,” said Perri. “Bye!” They all kissed on the cheek. Or air-kissed.
Closing the door behind her, Perri felt as if her lungs had had their first taste of oxygen in an hour.
After Jennifer left, Olympia and Gus followed Perri back outside, where they made a few feeble efforts at helping her clear the table. (Perri blamed Carol for not giving them chores as children and instilling a greater sense of obligation.) It was Olympia who spoke first. “Maybe it’s just me,” she said. “But I feel like it’s kind of a relief to have a new family member—someone new to talk to. I don’t know—”
Perri sometimes wondered how she and Olympia could have been created out of the same pool of DNA, yet see the world in diametrically opposed ways.
“I wonder why she and the hubby broke up,” said Gus.
“Maybe it annoyed him after a while that he was married to Little Miss Perfect saving kids with cancer,” volunteered Perri.
“Yowza!” Gus laughed. “Someone’s feeling a tad antagonistic.”
“Well, I think it’s kind of sad,” said Olympia. “We need one happy couple in this family. Mom and Dad are barely speaking. I don’t dare ask what’s going on with you and Mike.”
“Then don’t,” snapped Perri.
“What about me and Debbie?” asked Gus. “We don’t count because we’re lesbians?”
“You only got back together, like, yesterday,” said Olympia. “Talk to me in three months.”
“Well, if you’re so pro–happy couples,” said Gus, “how come you never have a boyfriend?”
Olympia turned noticeably red. “Everybody knows I can’t keep a relationship going,” she stammered.
“What? You just noticed that I haven’t had any love in my life since forever?”
Except with my husband, Perri was tempted to add, but refrained. Instead, she asked, “So, what’s the issue? It’s not like you can’t get a guy. You’re only completely gorgeous.” She laughed at the absurdity of the situation.
“The problem,” Olympia began in a trembly voice, “is that I’ve been in love with the same man for many years, and he’s not available.”
Perri’s whole body tensed up. She didn’t mean Mike, did she?
“You mean Patrick?” asked Gus.
Olympia turned to Gus, squinting. “How did you know?”
Perri sighed with relief.
“Why do you always act surprised when your own sisters seem to know things about you?” asked Gus.
“I don’t know,” said Olympia, laughing bitterly. “I guess I just always assume my private hell is my own private hell.”
“There’s no such thing as private,” harrumphed Perri. “At least not around you guys—a lesson I learned only too well this past month.”
“Very funny,” said Gus, a strange look coming over her face. “On that note—Pia, there’s something I feel like I need to tell you.”
“What?” said Olympia.
Gus paused, her mouth forming words but nothing coming out. Finally, she said, “Remember those pet goldfish we kept in the Kangaroo Club?”
“Yeah.”
“Remember how I said they died? Well, they died because I flushed them down the toilet. I was sick of feeding them, but I knew you’d be mad. So I didn’t tell you… till now.”
“You, Devotee of All Lowly Creatures, sent our club mascots to a watery grave?!” cried Olympia.
Perri couldn’t resist. “Shit happens,” she said.
It was a fairly random addition to the conversation. But somehow, in that moment, it was the funniest line that any Hellinger sister had ever uttered. Suddenly the three of them were not just laughing but doubled over on the floor and nearly convulsing, with Perri leading the pack. When she finally caught her breath, she panted out “I say we toast to that,” burst into further hysterics, then crawled over to her freestanding wine refrigerator, where she retrieved a bottle of good Champagne. She’d been saving it for a special occasion. What was this if not one? Perri popped the cork and poured out three brimming goblets, which she distributed to her sisters. “To ‘shit happens!’ ” she said again, lifting her own glass into the air.
“And to the Hellinger sisters,” said Gus, clinking her own glass against those of Perri and Olympia.
“Old and new,” said Olympia.
“But mostly old,” said Perri. “And in my case, really old.”
“Please,” said Gus. “You’re only forty.”
“Does anyone have a cigarette?” asked Perri.
“You smoke?!” cried Olympia, clearly appalled. “It’s so bad for you.”
“You smoke!” cried Gus, echoing her middle sister.
“But I’m the Family Fuck-up,” said Perri.
“Well, I only smoke when I’m having a nervous breakdown.”
“I thought you already had yours,” said Gus.
“I’m not quite done.”
“If you’re really desperate, I have a joint in my bag,” said Olympia.
“You mean, like, a marijuana joint?” asked Perri.
“No, a pizza joint,” said Olympia, rolling her eyes. “What do you think?”
“I might be persuaded to partake,” said Perri, nostrils flared.
“I wish I had my video camera,” muttered Gus.
“Let me get my bag,” said Olympia.
When Mike walked in the door a half hour later, three kids trailing behind him, all three Hellinger sisters were lying on their backs on the kitchen floor giggling maniacally about the time that Carol sent Bob to the pharmacy to buy maxi-pads and he came home with adult diapers. “What the hell is this?” Mike said now, waving his hand in front of his face to clear the smoke. “I thought you guys were all on the outs.”
Olympia jumped up and fled as if she’d just seen a ghost. “Thanks for lunch, Perri,” she called on her way down the hall.
Thanksgiving was going to be really awkward, Perri thought. Then again, who cared? “Mom, you look really weird when you laugh,” offered Sadie.
Perri assumed the fetal position. Whereupon Noah toddled over to her, and said, “Mommy, get up.”
“Come here, you precious thing,” she said, reaching for him. She took him onto her chest and cradled him. “Will you be my gay son who worships his mother and never leaves home?”
“Jesus, Perri!” cried Mike.
“Why is Mom acting like that?” asked Aiden.
“She had too much Champagne,” said Gus, getting up herself. “Anyway, I should probably be going myself. Fun lunch.”
“Bye,” Perri called after her. Her sisters were total freaks, she thought—but also kind of hilarious, if you were in the right mood for them.