Sisters

“Sure,” Tammy said. She had nothing else to do.

Mrs. Shibata arrived promptly for the interview and was wearing a kimono. As it turned out, she didn't totally “not speak English,” she said about ten words that she repeated frequently, whether appropriate or not. She did in fact look immaculately clean, and she left her shoes politely at the door when she got there. The only detail the agency had failed to mention, and probably wasn't allowed to, was that she looked about seventy-five years old and had no teeth. She bowed to Tammy every time she spoke to her, which made Tammy bow too. And she didn't seem to mind the dogs, which was something at least. And several times she said “Dog verry cute.” Better yet. Somehow through using sign language, speaking loudly, which served no purpose, and pointing at her watch, Tammy managed to convey to her to come back the following morning to try out. She had no idea if she'd show up or not, but was delighted when she did.

Mrs. Shibata walked in the front door, took off her shoes, bowed politely to everyone, including Candy in a thong and see-through T-shirt, Annie as she flew out the door to school, Sabrina as she left for work, the dogs several times whenever she saw them, and turned into a whirling dervish. Much to Tammy's delight, she stayed till six and everything was impeccable when she left. The beds were changed and made with military precision, the refrigerator had been scrubbed out, their personal laundry was done, the towels were clean and folded. She had even fed the dogs. The only problem was that she had fed them seaweed, left over from the lunch she'd brought, of pungent pickles, seaweed, and raw fish, all of which smelled awful, and the seaweed made the dogs violently sick. Tammy spent more time cleaning up the mess they made than she would have cleaning the house. So when Mrs. Shibata came to work the next day, as Tammy had pantomimed her to, she pointed to the dog bowls, the dogs, the seaweed, and made faces worthy of kabuki, asking her not to do it again. Mrs. Shibata bowed at least sixteen more times in all directions and let Tammy know she understood.

Candy had managed to trash most of the house the night before when friends dropped by, so she had plenty of work to do. The arrangement was working well. Tammy told the agency she was hired, and Mrs. Shibata set to work keeping them clean and in good order, and Tammy felt like a free woman. She was never going to have to wash towels or take out the trash again. Which was comforting, since no one else did.

Problem number one was solved, but now Tammy had to solve a more important problem before she could look for a job. She and Sabrina had agreed that something had to be done about Candy's eating disorder before it destroyed her, so they confronted her that night. It was the perfect night to do it, since Chris was at a basketball game with friends, which was a good thing, because you could have heard Candy's screams of outrage and denial from there to Brooklyn. Her older sisters said they no longer cared what excuse she had for the weight she was losing. She had two choices, a hospital or a shrink. Candy looked stunned.

“Are you serious? How can you be so mean? It's so rude of you to make an issue of my weight like this. Mom would never have done that. She was a lot nicer than either of you.”

“That's true,” Tammy said, without denying it. “But we're here and she's not, and you're not going to be here much longer either if you don't do something about this. Candy, we love you and you're going to get really sick. We lost Mom. We don't want to lose you.” They were loving but firm. She slammed the door of her room, threw herself on her bed, and cried for hours, but her sisters would not be moved. They were both aware that she made enough money to move out and get her own apartment, but she didn't. She didn't speak to them for two days, while she mulled it over, and finally, much to everyone's amazement, she gave in and opted for the shrink. She said there was nothing wrong with her eating, and they just didn't see her eat, and what she ate was healthy. For a canary maybe, or a hamster, but not a woman who stood six feet one in bare feet. They assured her that she didn't need to get fat to please them, and no, they weren't jealous of her. She even pointed out that Tammy was gaining weight, which was true, although she wasn't heavy either, but she was a lot shorter so whatever she gained showed, and she had gained about five pounds since arriving in New York. But the only issue of any consequence, as far as they were concerned, was that Candy's eating problem was out of control.