in many, many years, Dave slept in. He ignored the ringing phone that was surely his mother calling to find out if he would be attending church. He pretended to sleep through Georgie kissing him goodbye before she left for the shelter. He thought he heard Samantha call for him at some point too, but the summons went unanswered.
It wasn’t until well after noon that Dave heard a faint knocking on the bedroom door. Six short knuckle-raps—which could only be one person.
Dave opened an eye and lifted his head out from under the covers. Harmony was standing in the doorway, looking slightly timid and feeling her own intrusion. Though as soon as Dave beckoned her forward with a hand, she did not hesitate. She took a running start and leapt onto the bed, jostling Dave and bringing him fully awake as she slammed a pillow down on his head.
“Hell, Harmony!”
She shrieked with glee, beating him repeatedly until he finally grabbed her by the wrists, easily restraining her.
“What are you doing?” he asked, slightly breathless as he took her in.
“Playing,” she smirked.
Dave shook his head in confusion. Harmony pulled away from his grasp with a huff before falling back onto Georgie’s side of the bed.
“My therapist,” she began with a slight air of superiority, “says that it’s important to play.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, think about it. Children play all the time, and they are a hell of a lot happier than us.”
Dave briefly pictured Robb in his one slipper with that shit-eating grin on his face. “I suppose,” he commented, waiting for her to continue.
“Doctor H. says it’s all about not losing that childlike part of yourself—the ability to just feel and enjoy something because you like it. The second you let go of that, part of you dies, she says, because regardless of what you do, other people will judge you. So do what makes you happy. I think that’s what we do as adults, we worry too much about what other people think.”
“I don’t.”
“Well Dave, I guess that makes you better than the rest of us.”
He threw her an exasperated look as he got to his feet and went in search of a robe.
“Are you not feeling well?” she called after him.
“Fine,” he responded, wondering what he was going to do with his day. More than anything, Dave just wanted to go back to sleep, but his sister was going to make that impossible.
“Are you sure? I mean, not to sound like a know-it-all, but I can tell when you aren’t right.” Dave took a deep breath as he looked in the bathroom mirror. “Remember, that whole twin thing?” her voice was too loud.
“Harmony, I promise you I’m fine,” he insisted, gritting his teeth as he washed cool water over his face.
“Are you happy?” she pressed.
“Yes.” He shrugged into his robe.
“Fulfilled?”
Dave returned to the bedroom, raking a comb through his messy hair.
“Mm-hm.”
Harmony lifted herself up on her knees as she crawled to the edge of the bed to get a better look at him, “Anything you want to talk about? How are you feeling?”
“I appreciate your concern but I really don’t want to be psychoanalyzed at the moment.”
She became defensive almost immediately, sitting back on her heels and giving him a defiant glare, “That’s not what I’m doing, you jerk! I just want to know what’s up! I feel left out. Georgie is the only one who includes me in this family.”
He turned to stare at her with disbelief. “How can you say that? I am there whenever you need me. I listen,” he said as he tossed aside the robe in exchange for a shirt. Clearly he had to get out of the house if he was going to get away from her.
“You hear. You don’t listen. There’s a difference.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? You don’t really listen to anyone, Dave. You just pretend.”
Dave felt his temper surge like a tidal wave of molten lava. His sister’s continually needy and thoroughly selfish spite was beginning to grate on his nerves.
“Then how is it I know every single food you dislike, and let’s be clear there’s quite a long list of them, and somehow you can’t remember the ONE thing I don’t eat!?”
Harmony gave him a blank stare as she watched his chest heave.
“Are we back to the black olives?” The look she shot him was one of absolute conviction. “Dave. I know you better than anyone. I am you.”
“You are not me,” he spoke with such vehemence that Harmony’s eyes bulged as if he were an intruder in his own home.
Dave tore from the room before he said anything else he might regret. He hadn’t lost his temper with his sister in almost twenty years.