Chapter 17
Aya
“Oof, my back,” said Twyla.
Twyla was lounging on the couch, reading the news on her phone, having demolished two slices of quiche and a large bowl of miso soup. Aya rolled her eyes at her sister, who did not look up. Twy’s back did not appear to be injured.
“Want me to take a look?” Emi asked then took a sip of coffee.
Twyla looked up, smiling. “Nah. It’s nothing a doctor can cure. I have a very specific problem.”
“Bye, Twy,” said Aya, heading for the door.
“Are you sure I can’t come with you?” asked Emi. “I don’t know what you think I’m going to do all day.”
“Wait for Charles,” said Twyla. “Ooh, the first flight out! It’s so romantic.”
“Actually, I convinced him not to get that flight.”
“Do tell,” the reporter said, looking up hungrily.
Aya, who was waiting to leave, sighed as she waited for Emi to tell the story. If Charles wasn’t coming, she might need to stay with Emi, in spite of all the things she needed to get done.
“He has a big work thing tomorrow,” said Emi. “So we’re going to wait until that’s over, then I’ll fly back and join him.”
“Is that safe?” asked Aya and Twyla at the same time.
Aya gave her sister a grudging smile.
“Yes,” said Emi firmly. “Nobody needs to baby me. I’m pregnant, not in an iron lung.”
Aya shook her head. “I can’t believe it. You don’t look pregnant at all.”
“Well, I’m sure I look tired, which is pretty much the par for the course during the first trimester,” said Emi. “But after last night, I’m just glad not to be dying.”
“We’re all dying,” said Aya automatically.
Emi rolled her eyes. “Yes. Indeed. Thank you for the reminder.”
“Stay and rest,” said Aya, but as soon as she touched the door, Twyla started complaining about her back again.
“My back feels so very terrible! It will only feel better if my dear sister and her friend come to the dance rehearsal tonight!”
In a hushed voice, she added, “Emi, you don’t have to come. Better play that pregnancy card for the whole nine months.”
Emi smiled. “I’ll come, but I don’t think I can do any of the moves. In spite of your mom’s best efforts, I was never much of a dancer.”
“Same,” said Aya, but Twyla held up a finger. “You’re showing up to help us make the numbers, Aya-nene.”
Using Aya’s childhood nickname was manipulative, and it almost worked.
“Mom can lead and follow, and come to think of it, so can you,” said Aya. “So you never have any issues with numbers.”
“Yes, but we have too many leaders now. We need three followers, so Mom and I can’t fix it by ourselves, and it’s going to be so sad if one of our best dancers doesn’t participate,” said Twyla. “Promise you’ll come?”
Aya groaned. “Will you come with me and help me make welcome packets?”
“I would, but I have to get to work!” said Twyla, springing to her feet as she proved that her back problems were entirely imaginary.
Emi grinned. “Okay, crazy lady,” she said. “I’ll help you make the packets. Let’s go.”