The B-girls

Major rearranging going on the story, today. Brendan is still getting used to dealing with his Aunt Mari's two daughters, Brandi and Bernadette, who were born 10 months apart but look like twins and like to pretend to be each other. Brendan can't tell them apart so refers to them as the B-girls.

They have decided Brendan looks more like the brother of Jeremy, who's Jewish, than a part of the Irish family. Since they grow argumentative and gang up on anyone contradicting them, Brendan goes along with their nonsense in order to have even a modicum of peace.

This is in chapter ten, at a cookout Uncle Sean sets up as a going-away party for Jeremy, who's heading off to a kibbutz in Israel. He lives just a few doors down, and Brendan finally meets his parents and brothers. 

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The B-girls kept the Landaus busy with their usual interrogations. Which was odd because this was not the first time they'd met the son's wives. But I think some of their conversation had to do with seeking a consensus over me, for I overheard Brandi (I think) ask Mr. Landau, "Doesn't Bren look like one of your kids?" 

He laughed and looked at me and said, "Only in a very superficial way. None of my family's in Ireland." 

At which point Bernadette sneered at her sister and said, "I told you he'd say that." 

"No," the other sniped back, "you said he'd say he wasn't. But that's not what he said." 

"It's a nice way of saying he's not." 

"No, it isn't. It's a careful way of saying it's possible." 

"Oh, now you're being stupid." 

"Not as stupid as you." 

And off they went to argue.

Mr. Landau and I exchanged shrugs then he came over to me and asked, "How's your ribs doing?" 

Which brought a flash of-- 

The man lifting my right arm and pressing his fingers down my side as I whimpered, and him saying, "They're set well, but his arm should still be in a cast. Make sure it heals right." 

I coughed, unable to remember if it was or not, and said, "I'll live." 

He'd just nodded and turned back to his wife. 

Jeremy noticed just as he bit into a corn on the cob so cast me a wink. I just went to sit in a chair and eat.

I left for The Colonel's before his sister, Rachel, came. As did Scott, to work at Liam's Trough. So the next day, the B-girls insisted they fill me in on the rest of the evening. 

"She showed up after dark," Said Bernadette (I think). 

"The ugliest skirt and blouse I've ever seen," said the other. 

"Rough knitting over some kind of linen." 

"More like burlap." At which they nodded to each other. 

"She seemed upset that Scott was gone," said Brandi. Maybe. 

"You think she likes him?" asked the other, not really accepting the thought. "She's older than he is." 

"Not all that much." 

"But girls mature faster than boys. So he ought to be older than her, so they can be even." 

"You mean like mommy and daddy?" 

"Yeah. Kind of." 

I'd just made a meal from all the food left from the day before and was lazing on a float in the pool, the plate balanced on my belly, doing my best to maintain my non-listening mode. The blanket of the heat of the day and the fact those two didn't show till near three helped me ignore their chattering. Until-- 

"Did you put on Coppertone?" asked Bernadette. Maybe. And her voice was sharp with wariness. 

"The real strong stuff," said the other, just as clipped. 

"You got skin like us." 

"Too delicate for a boy." 

That gave me a bit of a jolt and I snapped, "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Your neck's already burned." 

"And arms." 

"You need to put this on, all the time." She held up a plastic bottle of the stuff, and I could smell the cocoa-butter from halfway across the pool. "You didn't have burns like that when you came here." 

"Isn't there any sun in Ireland?" 

All I could do is roll my eyes and say, "No. It's all rain and cloud." 

But to shut them up, I returned to shore, sat on the side, still nibbling at my plate, and let them smear it on my back. At least it kept them focused on doing it just right, while asking me no questions. I did my legs and front, myself. 

The only positive thing about their chattering was how it kept my mind busy. So while the sudden flashes of memory still continued, they grew fewer and fewer with little effort on my part. I also began to regain some of the weight I’d lost to the point I felt good enough to walk home after work.