Family Ties

Gracie and I were both vying for the top spot in the third-year standings, and Joska himself probably didn’t know which of us would take it. It didn’t really mean anything, except for bragging rights, but my ego wanted to win.

Big time.

The girls and I spent Sunday studying. Trip shut himself in his office and worked on a take-home exam for his management class. He spent all day on it and emerged looking like he’d gone ten rounds with Sugar Ray Leonard.

On Monday morning my mom called to remind me about Erin’s birthday.

I hadn’t forgotten, but I’d been too busy to buy her a card or anything. I promised to call that evening.

“We’re taking her and Leah and two other friends to dinner,” Mom said,

“but we should be home by nine.”

“Cool. Thanks. So… you’re still getting along better?”

“Paul, I swear, she’s a different person.”

“Maybe you’re a different person too?”

“Maybe,” she said reluctantly. “Although she’s changed more than I have.”

“Well, whatever the case, I’m happy for you. Both of you.”

“Thank you.”

“Sorry, Mom, I need to go. Exams and all. I’ll call tonight and wish her a happy birthday.”

“Good luck on your exams. Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

I called home later that night, and Erin and I talked like adults, which seemed weird. Part of me would always think of her as my bratty little sister, but the grown-up part realized she was a young woman instead. And that young woman was someone I enjoyed being friends with.

I had two more exams on Tuesday and then I was done. The others had finished theirs the day before. Christy had been very quiet about hers, since she only had two actual written exams. Her exhibition pieces— The Dying Replicant as well as the studies and molding process—had been her real exams in Siobhan’s classes.

On Wednesday we took a well-earned day off, but Trip and I spent the next two days working on the house, fixing and replacing things that had been bugging us for months. I floated the idea of adding an extra water heater in the attic for the third-floor bathroom, but I talked myself out of it before Trip could weigh in. My reason was purely selfish: I liked spending time in the bathroom with Christy. We hadn’t done it since the party, but I wanted to leave the option open for the future.

Trip merely chuckled when I told him why I’d decided against the new

tank. His chuckle turned into a full-throated laugh when I made him promise not to tell Wren. She was smug enough already as it was.

He and I spent Saturday morning with Sayuri and the plans for her second house. It was a more ambitious project than the first one, which had only been a four-apartment conversion. The second house was originally built in the 1930s as a boarding house. It was a little out of place with its Victorian neighbors, looks-wise, and it didn’t have the charm and craftsmanship. Still, it was a great location for student apartments.

The plans would gut the house to the studs and rebuild completely. The first floor would have four small one-bedroom apartments, while the second was designed with four efficiency apartments, each with a bathroom and kitchenette. In addition, every apartment would have its own entrance, which meant adding a rear balcony and exterior stairs for the second-floor efficiencies.

While Trip and Sayuri pored over the budget and construction schedule, I leafed through the drawings. They included the original house plans as well as the new designs. The renovation was ingenious, and I got a surprise when I looked at the architect’s stamp and signature.

“He” was a she, and I made a mental note to remember her and the company she worked for. I’d eventually have to find an internship, and I wanted to work with this woman, especially if her mind was anything like her designs.

We toured the house itself after we went over the plans, but it was early in the schedule and the crew hadn’t done much more than demolition. The house had good bones—things like hardwood studs that actually measured two inches by four—but it would take a lot of work to realize the architect’s vision. Trip and I promised Sayuri we’d keep an eye on it through the holidays and into the new year.

I received a call from my mom a few days later. It didn’t last long, and I was still holding my notepad when Christy stuck her head through the open door.

“Hey. Who was on the phone?”

“Huh?”

“Who was on the phone?”

“Oh, sorry. My mom.”

“Is everything okay?” She stepped into the room.

“Yeah, sure,” I answered immediately. “I mean… no, not really.”

“Is she okay? Your dad? Erin?”

“They’re fine,” I assured her. “A… friend of the family. He… died.”

“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. Who was it?”

I took a deep breath and blinked to clear my eyes. I sank to my bed, and Christy sat next to me. I showed her the notepad and she read the name.

“Gunny? Was he a Marine?”

“Yeah. Friend of my father’s. My mom said it was a heart attack.”

“I’m so sorry, Paul. When’s the funeral?” She read from the pad again.

“Saturday at ten.”

“Yeah.”

“What do we need to do?”