Relative Design

“Anabel,” her father said, brushing past her to engulf his son in a hug.
She resisted the urge to point out he hadn’t been invited in.
Her mother stiffly kissed her cheek hello before she too slid past her to smile at her firstborn, welcoming him home.
Anabel shuffled her feet and desperately wished she weren’t still in her PJs just as Eliza appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Who’s at the—oh.” Her voice instantly chilled. “Mom, dad. What’s brought you out here?”
“Beckett told us he’d come back and was staying with you,” her father said by way of explanation.
“Honestly, Beckett,” the petite mother of three—though she didn’t look it—chastised. “You could’ve just come home.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. He couldn’t just be imagining the stiff formality between his four family members, could he? “This is home too, ma. Thanks for coming by.”
“Please,” Eliza began, starting down the steps at a brisk pace. “If you’ll follow me to the sitting room, I’ll get you situated. Would you like some drinks, a snack perhaps?”
Anabel used the moment of distraction to escape, not missing Eliza’s conspiratorial wink. In her room, she quickly changed into a simple white lace dress and black flats, pulling the front of her hair back into a clip. Knowing she didn’t have much time, she applied her foundation, a hint of bronzer, and a thin line of coffee-black around her eyes to keep the look soft. Fluffing her hair a bit, she hurried back out to the sitting room.
“Anabel,” her mother said upon her arrival, crossing the legs she’d covered in crème colored slacks, “get me a glass of water, would you?”
“Certainly,” she said, a quick glance around the room showing both of her siblings missing. She hadn’t even stepped in the room, but her upbringing demanded that now she turn on her heel and go into the kitchen. She stopped in the rarely used dining room, hearing her siblings arguing on the other side of the door.
“Would you just cut the attitude and tell me what happened?” Beckett asked, clearly out of patience.
“Are you blind, Beckett, or did you simply not notice that this isn’t our parents’ place but mine?”
“I just thought you’d moved out. Obviously not.”
“Obviously.” She scoffed. “We moved out, okay? And they didn’t like it.”
“I got that part, thanks. Why?”
“Because when you left our stupid family fell apart, Beckett! God,” she said, laughing bitterly and Anabel knew she’d be running her hand through her hair exasperatedly. “When I turned twenty, Anabel got herself into some trouble. They were going to send her away. So I took her and my trust fund and whatever I had managed to save up and got us out. We’d been living in some dump until I got my job and then I bought this place a couple of years ago.”
Anabel flushed as she desperately wished Eliza wouldn’t go into details. If he had to find out, she wanted to be the one to tell him.
Even as she wished, Beckett asked, “What kind of trouble can a twelve year old get into?”
“Not my story to tell. The point is, we don’t like each other, no thanks to you—”
“Whoa, how do I come into this?”
“Because if you’d been around, it wouldn’t have been my job, my responsibility! If you’d been around—”
“So that’s what it was?” Anabel asked as she pushed into the kitchen. She was wounded, but her voice came out sharp and she thanked anyone listening for it. “Familial obligation? That’s why you stood up for me? Why you took me in?”
“No, Anabel, of course not! I did what I had to, what I wanted to, but—”
She angrily shook her head, going to the sink and reaching into the cabinet above it for two glasses. After rinsing and drying them, she filled the two with water and got out a lemon, cutting two pieces for each glass methodically. “But it was still obligation. Guess that’s just what it comes down to with you. Do me a favor, Eliza, and just don’t speak to me for a while yet. Thanks so much.”
She picked up the glasses and stepped out with as much dignity as she could muster. As the door swung shut behind her, she heard her sister furiously whisper, “Do you see what you do?”
Rolling her eyes, she continued down the hall, stopping when she saw Eric. “Hey, what are you doing?”
“Getting breakfast. Why?” He patted down his bed hair and Anabel noticed a fleck on toothpaste on his chin.
“Go back upstairs. I’ll bring you breakfast. Go to your room, stay there.”
“But—”
“Eric, please. I’ll explain everything later, just go.”
He heard the fatigue and poorly disguised anger—maybe it was resignation—in her voice and nodded. “You promise to explain?”
“I promise. Go on now. Is Toby in your room?”
“No, I think he wants to go for a walk.”
She sighed. “Okay. I’ll take care of that too.”
He looked down at the glasses in her hand. “Fancy.”
“Go.”
She waited until he was back upstairs before continuing to the sitting room, feeling slightly better. Then she heard her mother’s low voice.
“Did you see how tight and short her dress was? She’s gotten spoiled without a parental figure in her life—”
Left with no patience, she stepped into the room, jaw clenched. She had a wardrobe she was damn proud of. Her dress may have been snugly fit, but it was flattering. And just because it stopped above the knee did not mean it was short.
Placing the glasses in front of her two guests, she smiled, the gesture sickeningly sweet. “You know, mom, I love that pantsuit. I actually admired it in last season’s Macy’s catalogue. Excuse me.”
She was proud of her composure as she made her exit, the pivot and the strut. Back in the now empty kitchen—she’d avoided her siblings by taking the longer way around and entering through the kitchen entrance when she’d heard them coming down the hallway from the dining area—she started fixing cereal.
She’d played with the idea of making the kid eggs then decided it was simply a waste since they’d either get burned or taste awful. Either way, they were going to end up in the trash.
As she was pouring the milk, Toby trotted into the room, nudging her leg with his head before going to paw at the door leading to the backyard. “Hold on, boy,” she murmured, jogging to the door and letting him out. Leaving the door open, she went back to the cereal, added a little more milk and a spoon then started out to Eric’s room.
She kicked the door once, twice, then handed him the bowl when he opened it. “Here—”
“I can eat in my room?”
“Yeah.”
“But Eliza said—”
“Eliza’s not going to find out. Don’t spill and make sure that bowl goes in the sink once you’re done.”
He made a face. “Man, it’s my night to do dishes too.”
“Eliza will do them tonight.” She would make sure of it.
“Really? Sweet! Thanks.”
“Yeah. And take that dog of yours for a walk when you’re done eating. Go out the back.”
“He’s not mine.”
“He is now,” she said, crossing her arms.
He shrugged, trying his hand at nonchalance and failing. “All right.”
“Good.”
“Anabel!” he called when she turned away, making her turn back. “What are you so dressed up for anyway?”
He considered it remarkable restraint that he was able to keep from asking why she’d put all that crap on her face. He was used to her at this point, so used to her that even the subtle addition of color to her face was obvious to him.
“Nothing good.”

She could be stubborn, a fact Beckett had conveniently forgotten. Eliza had cheerfully abandoned him to deal with their parents alone and Anabel, his saving grace, refused to speak to him.
Upstairs, while Beckett tried juggling his parents on the ground floor, Anabel ducked into Eric’s room, hoping to avoid Eliza.
“Hey. Did you take Toby for a walk?”
“Yeah.” He threw the ball he held in the air, caught it.
They’d have to see if they could get him in Little League or something. She herself had been terrible at sports until high school when she achieved the proud status of “adequate” soccer and hockey player.
She cleared her throat. “You go out back?”
“Yeah.”
“Where is he?”
“Dunno. Around.”
Feeling uncomfortable, she rocked on the balls of her feet, looking around before settling down on the edge of his bed.
He squirmed but didn’t move away. “What’re you doing?”
“I owe you an explanation, right?”
He glanced at her, almost missed the ball. He’d been hoping she’d bring it up, since he had no intentions of doing it, like an unspoken test of sorts. “Yeah.”
“I need you to hear me out, okay?” she asked and saw the immediate wariness cross his face.
He agreed anyway.
“So our… our parents are downstairs. Before you get the wrong idea and think I didn’t want you to meet them or anything, you need to know we don’t have the best relationship. We being them, Eliza and I. They have no problem with Beckett, or Beckett them that I know of. I didn’t want to spring you on them when they were already in a bad mood because they’d had to deal with me.”
“You or you and Eliza?”
Smart kid, she thought with a flash of pride. “I guess both of us.”
“Why don’t they like you? You’re pretty decent.”
Now she did look away, frowning. “I guess I owe you this. I was just being an idiot and I wrecked my dad’s new car. They were going to send me away. Eliza was twenty. She took me and got the hell out of there. They aren’t very fond of us since.”
“That’s dumb. It’s just car. You were a kid.”
She smiled at him and reached out to ruffle his hair. “You’re not half bad, kid. Don’t try that kid stuff on Eliza if you ruin her car. She loves that thing.”
“Can’t see why. Piece of shit.”
Her eyebrow rose as she laughed. “You pay for a car all by yourself, mister, it’ll be your baby too.”
“Junk is junk.”
“One man’s junk…”
He rolled his eyes. “So did they leave yet?”
“No. Some people just don’t realize when they over—” she broke off as the door opened and Beckett stuck his head in the room.
“Oh, Anabel. Hey. Uhm, I was hoping to introduce Eric. Why don’t you come down with us?”
She swallowed her bitter words. “No, I don’t think—” She faltered when she noticed Eric’s panicked eyes, bit her lip. “Yeah, why not?”
The look of complete relief he sent her had her panicking herself, but she put it away as she followed her brothers down the stairs and into the dining room where her mother now sat. Her father held a stout whiskey glass and stood beside the window.
Her earlier exit suddenly didn’t seem to hold as much weight since she’d come back.
“This is the boy?” Anabel’s father asked in a tone stiff enough to have her chin rising and her hand moving to rest on the boy’s shoulder. He didn’t miss the lack of hesitation as his youngest daughter moved to the boy, but he missed the way the boy stiffened.
His wife noticed it and stood, coming to the child. She smiled warmly, a smile Anabel remembered from years ago. “Hello, Eric. I’m Lorraine.”
“Yeah, hey.”
“It’s very nice to meet you. Beckett’s told us a lot about you.”
“Yeah?”
Her smile widened as Beckett and Anabel exchanged a look of bafflement. “Yeah. What do you say we go get something to eat?”
He looked at Anabel, only agreeing when she nodded. He didn’t so much as glance at Beckett, and Anabel had to keep from smiling at the fact that that alone now put her in charge.
“Anabel,” her mother said when they were by the door. “Why don’t you join us and let those two bond?”
Well, shit.
She nodded stiffly and followed her mother into the kitchen where Eliza was, standing over the stove.
“Mom,” Eliza started, “you can wait in the—”
“Oh, hush, Eliza. It’s here I want to be.”
The temper in her voice had Eliza turning back to the stove, lips pressed tightly together.
“Why don’t you get us some snacks, Eric? Anything you want.”
He shrugged, going to the pantry, the first time he’d actually gone in there. He was surprised to find it filled with junk food, since the last time he’d gotten a glimpse of the space it was nearly empty, and whatever had been there was just Anabel’s health crap.
“Anabel…” Lorraine hesitated once Eric had disappeared in the small closet-like space, much to Anabel’s surprise. “You look lovely.”
“What, my dress isn’t too short or tight anymore?” she asked in return, head cocked and eyes narrowed.
“It is,” she replied bluntly, smiling, “but you look good in it.”
Eliza tucked her tongue in her cheek, trying to swallow her laughter. It was, though she hated to admit it, exactly what she’d have said in the situation.
“I know.” Going to the fridge, she pulled out the makings of a salad.
“Aw, that—”
Before Eric could continue, Eliza interrupted him, not wanting him to get scolded at by their mother. “Yes, that again. It’s all Anabel can make so you’ll shut up and eat it.”
“It’s bird food.”
She looked up from the pasta she stirred and fixed her steely glare on him. “If you want any of this supposed ‘real food’, you’ll eat some of that first.”
Anabel smiled down at the tomatoes she was cutting.
“But—”
The former youngest exchanged a hesitant smile with her sister before tossing Eric a green bell pepper. “Cut that into slices about this thick.” She held up her thumb and forefinger several centimeters apart.
“But I can’t—”
“You’ll learn. You know where the cutting board is.”
“Uhm.” He looked around, clueless.
“The back of the cabinet with the Tupperware. Next to the pantry, Eric.”
“Oh.” He got it out then pulled out a knife. “Now what?”
“Here,” Lorraine said, going to him and taking the knife. “I’ll show you. Then you can cut the rest of it, okay?”
“Okay.” As they did that, Anabel got out the salad bowl, dumped the lettuce in it then sprinkled walnuts on it.
“Anabel, what are you putting on that salad?” her mother asked curiously.
“Stuff.” She shrugged, added blueberries, cranberries, croutons. “Done with the peppers?”
Eric carefully brought the cutting board by the bowl, watched as Anabel put them then the tomatoes over everything else she’d dumped on the lettuce.
“Bring me the yellow peppers?”
He got them and watched as Anabel carefully cut them into small squares, sprinkling them over the tomatoes. “I’m supposed to eat that?”
“Without complaining.”
Lorraine grinned as Eric sneered and Anabel stuck her tongue out at him in response. Whatever had happened between her and her daughters, she felt relieved that they were doing well, that they were able to care for this young boy. Eliza stepped to the sink beside Anabel to drain the pasta, reaching into the bowl and grabbing a tomato before she went to work, ignoring Anabel’s disdain. When she hip bumped her older sister, the auburn haired girl laughed, nudging her away.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, Eliza the tallest in her heels, then Anabel at her 5’6”, and then the scrawny boy who still had to grow into his gangly limbs. There was yearning somewhere deep inside her and she turned away from the scene, sneaking out of the room when they didn’t notice her edging away behind their backs.
“She’s gone,” Eliza said a moment later, ignoring the other two as they simultaneously turned to check. “Eric, go sit.”
He did, wordlessly, and Eliza turned her attention to the red sauce. “Anabel, I didn’t mean it that way. Earlier, with Beckett.”
“Well, that was how it came out.”
“Anabel, please listen.” She turned to her now. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it that way, honestly. I’m just mad at him and I wanted him to know. I don’t regret a thing with the way everything’s turned out.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” Anabel asked rhetorically.
“Because you’re a moron. I mean it, I wasn’t trying to say that I didn’t want to do what I did for you.”
Eric sat on the high chair, kicking his feet back and forth as he watched them, wondering what was going on. All the time he’d been here he hadn’t seen the two angry with each other, but going by the frown on Eliza’s face and the anger in Anabel’s eyes, that was over.
“Whatever, Eliza.” She shook her head, grabbed the salad bowl. “Let’s just do this later when they aren’t here.”
Eric watched her sail out of the room, head cocked. “What’d you say to her?”
“Nothing. I was bitching at her idiotic brother.” She shot him a strained smile. “The other one, I mean.”
He rolled his eyes but said nothing. God, they were all bat-shit.
He was proven right when they all sat at the table to eat, both the parents on the ends of the table, Beckett and Anabel on one side and he and Eliza opposite them. There was a tense air around the room as Anabel grabbed the salad after her father had set it down, serving him some first then Beckett then herself. Meeting her sister’s gaze, she set the bowl down with a sharp click.
Eliza sighed and picked up the bowl, passing it to her mother before taking some salad herself. Clearing her throat, she said, “We’ve got pasta with the family red sauce and lemon chicken. Please, help yourself to whatever.”
Anabel simply stuck to the salad, remembering she had dinner plans, and stayed focused on simply keeping the little she ate down. Conversation, scarce as it was, didn’t involve her.
For a while.
“Anabel? Don’t you want something else?”
“No, thank you,” she declined, barely glancing at the woman who’d given her birth. “I had a heavy breakfast.”
“Oh, of course. Any fun Saturday night plans?”
“Anabel always has fun Saturday night plans,” Eliza said simply, saving her from actually having to answer and elaborate.
Still, Lorraine zeroed in on her youngest. “Hot date?”
“Nope.” She kept her gaze steady as she raised her glass to her lips.

The problem, because of course there had to be one, was when her hot date arrived at her door at seven on the dot (points for him), and her parents still sat in the living room, sipping coffee.
With a glance behind her and a sound of distress, she stepped onto the stoop, easing the door close to shut behind her.
Using the moment of distraction to his advantage, Adam leaned down to press his lips to hers in greeting. He pulled away a second later, grinning, and handed her the pretty pink roses he’d gotten her.
Though the flowers melted her heart, she frowned at him. “That wasn’t fair.”
“I’m an opportunist. You look great.”
“Thank you. And thank you for the roses.” She’d received flowers before, but never roses. Never a color so feminine and soft. It was always something bold, like a deep purple or red. She preferred the light pink bouquet she held.
“Absolutely. Will you be able to wear that riding on that?”
“Hm?” Wear this? She hadn’t planned to wear this. She’d just lost track of time. Then she followed his gaze. “That’s yours? We’re going on that?”
He smirked, more than pleased at her reaction, pleased he’d managed to surprise her enough that she showed it instead of hiding behind her excellent poker face. “Yeah.”
She made another distressed noise, and this time he picked up on it. “Hey, what’s wrong? You’re not afraid, are you?”
“No, no. I just…”
“What? I could call a cab, leave the bike off and—”
“No, don’t, please. The bike is fine. Uhm, just…” She glanced at the door behind her, frowned. “Let me go change into pants. Do me a favor and take the bike to the corner. I’ll meet you there.”
“Will your siblings have a problem with it? Anabel, we can call a cab. I don’t—”
“Adam, it’s been a long day, and right now I just need you to take the bike down the street, okay? That’s a sweet ride and if you take away the chance for me to ride on a Stryker, I may actually kill you. Slowly. So go and give me like five.”
His grin spread slowly at her knowledge of his bike, and it was almost enough to distract him. “Will you tell me why it’s been a long day over dinner if I agree?”
“I’ll consider it.”
“I want a guarantee.”
“Then you’ll be disappointed. Consideration is all you’ll be getting from me.”
He considered it and, realizing she wasn’t bluffing, agreed.
She rushed back inside, up the steps to her room after a brief stop in the kitchen to put the roses in a vase. Throwing open her chest drawers, she dug around until she came across her favorite pair of dark rinse skinny jeans and pulled out a pale pink lace cutout tank that matched the roses to dress up the black tank that she planned to wear under it. After changing, she hurried back downstairs, stopping in the living room. “Uhm, Beck? Eliza? I’m gonna go out for a bit.”
“What time will you be back?” Beckett asked, annoying Eliza when he beat her to it.
“What time do you need me back?”
“Eleven.”
“Okay. Eliza, your night to do dishes. Bye, guys. Mom, dad.” She got out of there before anything else could be said.
After making her way to the corner of her street, she leaned up to firmly press her lips against Adam’s. “Thank you. Let’s go.”
He ignored the pull in his belly and smiled warmly at her. “Absolutely.”
He made her wear a helmet, much to her bemusement. He wore one as well, but it didn’t help matters any. Especially when, after pulling up to the valet of some fancy restaurant Anabel had never heard of, he pulled his helmet off to reveal perfectly styled hair.
Anabel’s own hair felt flat, and she ran a hand through it, hoping to help. When it flopped back in her face, she sighed. The ends were tangled so badly her fingers couldn’t make it through them. “Uhm, Adam? I don’t think…”
He placed a hand on her back, nudged her forward. “What?”
“We’re in jeans, Adam. This place… we can’t—”
“Sure we can.” He stepped into the dim waiting area and, though there were many couples waiting, the maître d’ stepped to them, all bright smiles.
“Mr. Martin, good evening.”
“Hey, Charles. How are you doing?”
“Great, sir, thank you. If you’ll follow me, the table you requested is ready.”
Anabel, feeling horribly underdressed, followed Adam and the host wordlessly, curious. Everyone here, everyone, wore suits, the women in classy dresses. She had the perfect LBD for such a place.
Then there was Adam, in his jeans and button-up, and her in a semi-dressy tank top and skinny jeans.
As soon as they were seated, Anabel leaned over to quietly hiss, “Jeans and a bike? Are you freaking kidding me? And how the hell did they let us in this place looking the way we do?”
“A face like that? I’m sure you could get in anywhere, darling. Besides, you fill out those jeans better than anyone I know. Stop worrying, and enjoy yourself. I’ll bring an actual car for our next date and give you a heads up that we’re going to a place like this.”
Her eyebrow shot up. “Next date?”
“Sure.”
She rolled her eyes, wondered why she found his arrogance attractive. “So that’s a rental out there?”
“Absolutely not. She’s mine.”
“Ah.” Car lover, then.
“You knew my bike. Most women don’t.”
“That’s a sexist assumption.”
“Most women in my experience, then.”
“My brother has a ’57 Thunderbird.”
He gaped at her. “You’re kidding.”
She simply smirked, more than a little pleased with herself. “Doesn’t matter that I don’t drive. I pine for her.”
“I prefer newer models, but that’s impressive.”
“Impressive? First generation of Thunderbirds, the best of the two released before. It’s more than impressive.”
“You do know cars. I wondered.”
“I appreciate them, lust after them.”
“Where is it? His T-bird?”
“Garage. He didn’t take it when he left.”
“Does anyone use it?”
“My sister, occasionally. But rarely. It’s Beckett’s. Always has been.” She shrugged.
Time for a subject change. “Cool. So did you like the bike?”
She grinned. “It was even worth the knots in my hair.”
“Nicely said.”
“Well, it was.”
He nodded, and let conversation drop as the waiter appeared.
He waited, bid his time carefully, judged the moment she relaxed, and pounced. “So, how was your day?”
“Long,” she evaded, sipping her water. “This gnocchi is incredible.”
“I prefer it most days.”
She spoke before he could continue. “You come here often?”
“Every now and again. Why was it a long day?”
She wondered how to play her cards. “My parents were over. And you know what they say about family pushing all the right buttons.”
He toasted her, sipped himself. “Certainly. How are your siblings handling it?”
She shrugged. “They just are. Do you have siblings?”
“No, I’m an only child.”
“How is that?”
“Quiet, mostly. Would you prefer it?”
She frowned as she chewed the gnocchi, thoughtful. “I wouldn’t mind quiet, but… maybe if I didn’t know them, my siblings. But I do know them, and I love them, even when I hate them, like today. So… no, I don’t think I would. Is it lonely?”
“It can be.”
“Did you have pets for company?”
“Not usually. We had a cat for a few years, when I was very young. She wasn’t fond of children.”
“Cats often aren’t, I’ve heard. We have a dog.”
He smiled, easing back against his chair. “Do you? What kind?”
“A Bernese Mountain Dog. He’s already growing. Eats like a damn elephant.” She laughed, picking up her glass. “We named him Toby. He’s great. Eric’s mostly with him these days, and I barely see him anymore.”
“You sound fond of them, both of them.”
“I am. Toby’s a great friend. The kid just has more need for him right now.” She shrugged.
“He’s not really your brother, Eric. You didn’t know who he was that night I dropped you home.”
“Not by blood, no.”
“So then how…?”
“My brother’s adopting him or something. I’m not clear on the details.”
He nodded, left it alone. Her prim tone told him she wouldn't say more on the subject. “So have I earned that date yet?”
“Possibly. The night still isn’t over.”
“You’re a tough one, Anabel.”
She only smiled and took another bite.