Free Brother and Sister by Edwin West

bothering us, that’s what I want to know?”
     
    ***
     
    After supper that evening, they played cards together awhile -- Russian Bank, Casino and Cribbage. There was nothing they wanted to see on television before nine-thirty.
     
    A little after eight there was the sound of someone on the front porch and then the doorbell rang. Angie and Paul were in the kitchen, sitting at the table. Paul looked up, sudden irritation crossing his face. “If that’s Uncle James again -- ”
     
    “I don’t think so, Paul,” said Angie, getting to. her feet. “Not if he said he’d see us tomorrow at the lawyer’s office.”
     
    “Let me get it,” said Paul. “You wait here.”
     
    “Oh, don’t be silly,” said Angie and she followed him through the house to the front door. In case it was Uncle James, she wanted to be present to see to it that they didn’t quarrel again.
     
    But it wasn’t. It was Bob, grinning sheepishly at them.
     
    Angie felt a sudden, cold, heavy lump in her stomach, and she felt dizzy. It was more than two weeks since the day of the funeral, when she had let Paul make the final decision for her. She had successfully put all thought of that decision out of her head ever since.
     
    It wasn’t that she had thought: Now I’m finished with Bob.
     
    Actually, she had thought: 1 don’t have to see Bob for a while.
     
    Without thinking about it, this had been her assumption. Bob was still there, in case she should ever feel the need to return to him. But he had been silenced, taken out of view, so that he could no longer press her for a decision about their future.
     
    And here he was back again, suddenly, without warning, smiling sheepishly at them and saying, more to Paul than to her, “Is it okay if I come in for a minute?”
     
    And Paul, looking awkward and uncomfortable, was backing to the side and saying, “Sure. Come on in.”
     
    Bob stepped hesitantly across the threshold, the sheepish smile still on his face and said, “Hi, Angie. How are you?”
     
    “I’m fine,” she said, surprised to hear that her voice was little more than a whisper.
     
    Paul closed the door and said, “Come on into the living room.”
     
    Once they were all in the living room, seated, there was an awkward silence for a few seconds. Then all three of them started talking at once. Then they were all silent again, confused. Angie and Bob looked at Paul, waiting for him to speak first.
     
    Paul cleared his throat. “I wanted to say,” he told Bob, “that I was sorry about us fighting the last time you were here. I--I was kind of upset and-- ”
     
    “Gee, Paul, it isn’t up to you to be sorry,” protested Bob. “I came in here like a damned fool. I just completely forgot all about, uh-- ”
     
    “I was mad at the world in general that day, I guess,” said Paul. “I took it out on you and there wasn’t any reason for it. I’ve been thinking about that and I’ve been wanting to tell you that I was sorry.”
     
    Bob laughed a little, still sheepishly. “Well,” he said. “Here we are, apologizing to each other. Anyway, I’m glad you aren’t still mad at me. Are you, Angie?”
     
    “No,” she said immediately, almost desperately. “No, of course not.” And she wondered why her whole relationship with Bob had to boil down to this one thing: he asked questions and she tried to answer them, or tried to avoid them, or tried to live through and beyond them.
     
    He’s going to ask me again tonight, she thought with sudden certainty. It had been two-and-a-half weeks since Mom and Dad had been killed. Tonight, he would ask her again to marry him, she was sure of it. That was the only reason he’d come over.
     
    And his arguments would be stronger than ever. Her parents were dead now -- the only family she’d ever known was dead. Now was the time for her to start a family of her own.
     
    With Bob.
     
    Once again it was immediate. Once again it was the decision that had to be made --