About My Sisters Read Online Free PDF

neighbors, you know,” I say. The decibel level has gone up considerably in the last few seconds. We’re on the verge of no return here. I see that my mother already has her head in her hands and, any second now, she’s going to interject with a slightly hysterical admonishment that will exacerbate all tensions and solve nothing. My brother looks as if he’s getting ready to flee, his usual mode when arguing starts, but Danny eats gamely, soldiering on. He and Déja have been together for two years now and he’s seen quite a few of these dinners.
    â€œAnyway,” I cut in, “what were we talking about? I believe it was me, wasn’t it?” I am guaranteed to get myself in trouble with this question, but it’s all that I can think of on the spur of the moment. Call it the verbal equivalent of a sacrifice fly.
    â€œOh yes,” my father says, “let’s talk about you. We haven’t talked about you for at least ten minutes. What’s happening in your world?”
    â€œNo, let’s talk about me,” Déja says. Another sacrifice. I smile to myself. We do tend to look out for each other from time to time.
    â€œYes, let’s,” my mother says. “Let’s talk about Déja’s play.”
    Between my sisters and me, we’ve got most of the arts covered. I am the writer, Maya is the musician, and Déja is the actress. Lavander, in real estate, is the only one whose chosen profession is outside the entertainment field. For this, she has earned the distinction of being the only “closer” in the family. For example, when my mother had an opening at a local art gallery recently (she’s the visual artist in the family), Maya played her violin at the reception. Next to my mother’s business cards were two stacks of postcards: one advertising the opening of Déja’s play and the other announcing the publication of my new book. Lavander, on the other hand, brought in some wealthy clients who immediately bought two of my mother’s paintings.
    The play Déja is rehearsing for now is her first in two years and it’s as if she’s had new life breathed into her. When Déja is performing, she is like a lighted torch. The last two years have been fallow for her, creatively speaking, and her natural sense of drama, brilliant onstage, was starting to warp into moodiness.
    â€œYes, let’s talk about my play,” Déja says. “It’s opening next week. I don’t want anyone to show up on opening night, please. I want to make sure we have it right before you all see it. And you are all coming, of course. And just a warning, it’s a farce, but it’s very sexual. And I’m playing a very sexual character, so I want you all to be prepared. It is called Down South , so you can take it from there.” She’s speaking to all of us, but she’s looking at Danny. Word is, he’s a bit disturbed by the sexual content of the play.
    â€œWhat do you mean, Down South? ” my mother says. “Where does it take place?”
    â€œIt takes place down south ,” Déja says. “Get it?”
    â€œYes, but where is it set?” my mother presses on.
    â€œPhiladelphia,” Déja says, sighing.
    â€œSpeaking of down south,” Lavander says, “I’d like to get some opinions on the Brazilian wax.”
    â€œOh come on,” I tell her. “Do we really have to talk about this again ?”
    â€œNobody minds, do they?” she says. “I just want to know what some men think of this whole thing.”
    â€œYou can’t ask these men,” Maya says.
    â€œYes, I can. Daddy, what do you think?” Lavander leans over to my father, hand under her chin, sweet as you please.
    â€œDo not answer her,” my mother warns my father. “I am telling you, say nothing.”
    â€œWha—?” my father gets out.
    â€œCome on, Lavander, you know the