August, 1987

Lindsay stepped out of the bathroom into the dark hallway in her pink bathrobe, her hair wet from the shower. As she was walking to her room she heard the phone ring downstairs and froze.

"Hello?" she heard her mother say. "Michael, I'm glad you called. I need you to settle a dispute between me and Buster. He wants to go to a PG-13-rated movie but I don't think he's ready."

Lindsay's heart started beating quickly. She'd been waiting by the phone all day for Michael to call, ever since he'd left that morning. He'd left an hour earlier than he said he would, so that by the time she woke up he was already out the door and all she'd had time to say to him was a quick goodbye in front of the rest of the family. She hurried downstairs to the kitchen.

"I know he's fourteen!" her mother was saying into the phone. "But he's such an impressionable little boy, and the things they put in movies these days."

"Can I talk to him?" Lindsay asked.

"I'm in the middle of something," she said. "Dirty Dancing. I mean, the title alone! What? I should've known you'd take his side. Just like your father, couldn't care less what Buster watches."

"Please," Lindsay said desperately. Lucille sighed exasperatedly.

"Fine," she said. "Your sister wants to talk to you."

She handed the phone to Lindsay.

"Hi," Lindsay said into the receiver, her heart pounding.

"Hi," she heard Michael say. He sounded nervous.

"How are you?" she asked, watching her mother pour herself a glass of wine.

"Uh, good. How are you?"

"Good," she said, though that was far from the truth. "Have you moved in yet?"

"Yeah, I just finished unpacking."

"What's your dorm like?" she asked as Lucille left the kitchen. Lindsay took the phone out of the kitchen and into the bathroom, stretching the cord as far as it would go.

"Good," he said.

"Good." She closed the door as much as she could while still leaving a crack for the cord. "Okay, we need to talk about last night," she said, lowering her voice.

There was a silence.

"I don't think there's much to talk about," he said. "Obviously it was…a mistake and…and we shouldn't let anything like that happen again."

Lindsay swallowed. She'd expected something like this but it didn't make it any easier to hear.

"It wasn't a mistake for me," she said, her voice wavering. "I've had feelings for you for a long time, and I know you feel the same way—"

"Lindsay—"

"It's not actually that bad when you think about it," she said quickly. "It's not like it would hurt anyone, no one would even know."

"Lindsay, please—"

"It's just, I love you, and—and I know you're not sure about this, but we're so good for each other. I think we belong together."

"Wha—we don't belong together, we're siblings!"

"It doesn't matter—"

"Yes, it does! Ugh, look, I can't talk about this here, I'm outside at a payphone, someone might hear."

"Please, just think about it, it's not actually that bad."

"Not that bad? Lindsay, just—it's not an option, okay? I'm sorry, but I'm not going to change my mind, so please—" He broke off. "I'm sorry, I really can't talk about this right now. Sorry."

"Michael, wait—" she said, but then she heard the phone click and knew that he was gone.