"I'm never going to get these crumbs out of my hair," Mimi sighed, standing up.

"It looks like you've got massive dandruff," Daisha said, staring at her.

Mimi frowned. "Thanks."

"I think dandruff is sexy," Roger said, smiling at her.

Mimi looked at him and rolled her eyes. "You would."

"Of course," he replied, wrapping his arms around her face and pulling himself to his feet.

"I'm going to go take a shower. I'm covered in olive juice," Mimi giggled.

"Do you need me to assist you?" he teased.

Daisha's face turned bright red, and Isabella shot Roger a furious look.

"Sorry," he said, sheepishly.

"I'll be out in about twenty minutes," Mimi told them, leaving the room.

"Have fun," Roger called after her, and she turned around and jokingly, gave him the finger.

"You guys are so immature," Isabella declared.

Roger shrugged. "Sue me."

"I wish." She placed a hand on Daisha's shoulder. "Daish, go in the other room and watch TV or something, I need to talk to Roger."

"Good luck with the TV. It blew a few days ago."

"Oh, well, um, go find a magazine, then. You know how to read, right?" Isabella joked.

"YES, I know how to read," Daisha said, grouchily. She went into the other room, leaving Isabella and Roger alone.

"What's wrong?" he asked her, bending down to pick up a few stray olives scattering the floor.

"Joel called my place."

Roger stopped and bit his lip. "What did he say?"

"Daisha was the one who answered the phone."

"Shit," Roger muttered.

"So now's he's certain that she's here, and he wants her to come home. Mimi told me how he treats Daisha, and how she used to treat her, and obviously I'm not letting her go back there."

Roger nodded, understandingly.

"He doesn't know the address of this place, but he can find out."

"Shit," Roger repeated.

"I don't know what he's going to do. He's nuts, and I know that if and when he comes, something bad will happen," Isabella said, chewing on her lower lip, something that Mimi did when she was nervous.

"Are you going to tell Mimi?" Roger asked her.

"Yeah, when she gets out of the shower. But I figured I'd tell you first. Mimi's really afraid of Joel, Roger."

"I know, she told me," Roger sighed. "Is Daisha alright?"

"As soon as she realized who it was on the phone, she practically shoved it into my hand and walked out of the room. I don't know if she knows how serious the situation could turn out to be, but she seems fine right now."

"She was acting pretty normal," Roger agreed. "But then again, I've known her for less than a week, so I don't really know what normal is for her."

"She's pretty much acting like her usual moody self," Isabella said. "Just a little more jumpy, you know?"

Roger nodded again.

"So I think she should stay here for now. I'll just rent a motel room for now, because if Joel comes for a surprise visit, and I'm there and Daisha's not, there's gonna be a problem."

"Alright," Roger said, "The couch is a pull-out. It's sort of broken, but maybe Collins or someone can help me fix it. Do you wanna bring her stuff over here?"

"I already did," Isabella admitted, turning a little red. "I packed a bag with her clothes, toiletries, just the stuff she needs. It's in a duffel bag downstairs in my car."

"You want me to go get it?" Roger offered.

"Nah, that's alright. I'll go down right now and grab it."

"Is it alright if I tell Mimi if she gets out of the shower before you get back up here?"

"Of course. She has a right to know. He's her stepfather too. Unfortunately," she added. "I'll be back in ten minutes."

"Okay," Roger said, and watched her leave. A few minutes later, Mimi came out of the shower in a royal purple bathrobe drying her hair.

"I think I missed few crumbs," she said, shaking her had and making her wild curls go crazy.

"I think you've got more important things to worry about," he said, and told her what Isabella had told him.

Mimi's face paled, and she fidgeted nervously with the tie on her robe.

"Isabella said that Daisha would stay here, and she'd get a motel room for now until this whole thing blows over. She's downstairs getting Daisha's stuff out of her car."

"Okay," Mimi said, almost whispering.

"Are you alright?" Roger asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm fine," she whispered, leaning against him. "I'm just freaked out."

"I don't blame you," Roger said, pushing her wet curls away from her face. "I'd be scared too. It'll be alright though. I promise."

Mimi forced a smile, but still didn't look convinced.

"I'm back," Isabella called, walking into the room, Daisha's bag in her hand. She set it down on the kitchen table.

"You told her?" she asked, when she saw Mimi.

"Yup. I just did," Roger said, rubbing Mimi's arm slowly.

"You alright, Meems?" Isabella asked, concerned.

"I'm scared," Mimi admitted.

"Don't worry, Chica," Isabella soothed, slipping her hand through her sister's.

"You don't know that," Mimi said, softly.

Isabella didn't answer.

At that moment, Daisha walked in.

"I'm starved. Is there any food left? Or is it all on the floor?"

Mimi forced a small smile. "I think that there's some stuff in the freezer."

Daisha walked over to the freezer, carefully stepping over the crushed crackers and smushed olives. She opened the freezer and faked enthusiasm. "OOOH, frozen waffles! My FAVORITE."

"Take it or leave it," Mimi snapped, getting fed up with her sister's moodiness.

"Jeez, sorry, I was kidding, Meems," Daisha said, taking a defrosted waffle out of the box.

"It's okay. I'm just not in a joking mood," Mimi grumbled.

Daisha stuffed the waffle into the toaster. "Whatever. It's fine."

"So you're gonna stay at Mimi's for now, alright Daish?"

"Yeah," Daisha sighed. "I feel like a stray dog that no one wants."

"Honey, that's not the case at all!" Isabella exclaimed.

Daisha shrugged.

"Here," Isabella handed her her bag.

"I guess I'll go unpack then," Daisha sighed.

"There's some extra room in the closet by the doorway if you need it," Mimi told her.

"Alright. Thanks." She picked up the bag and silently walked out of the kitchen.

"Teenagers," Isabella sighed, leaning against the refrigerator.

"Yeah, they're a pain," Roger agreed, nudging Mimi in the ribs.

"What?"

"You were nineteen just a year ago, remember? And I had to put up with you," Roger said, pretending to groan.

"Shut up, I had a harder time handling YOU," Mimi laughed.

Roger stuck out his tongue.

Isabella rolled her eyes.

"Kids," she smirked, leaving to help Daisha unpack.

***

"Well, THAT was an experience," Mark sighed, shutting the door behind him.

"I think you two got along pretty well," Jan told him, sliding off her coat.

Mark shrugged. "What can I say, I'm a man of many talents."

"That's for sure," Jan laughed. She glanced at her watch. "Come with me to get my mail?"

"Why should I?" Mark asked, teasingly.

"I'll give you a massage later," she offered, waggling her eyebrows.

"A back massage?"

"A massage," she repeated.

"Kinky," Mark said, shaking his head.

Jan giggled. "C'mon, my mail's not gonna walk up here itself!"

The two of them went downstairs into the lobby to grab Jan's mail, and then hurried back upstairs.

"Bills, bills, junk mail, coupons," she recited, tossing it onto the table. "Oh, I got a letter from my parents."

"The old man and woman, huh?" Mark said.

"Yup." Jan tore the envelope open, scanning the letter carefully. She rolled her eyes and tossed it aside.

"What is it?" Mark asked, picking the letter back up and handing it to her.

"Same old, same old. Asking me if I would 'Please come home for Christmas, sweetie, we'd love to have you, we miss you.'"

"What's so wrong with that?" Mark asked. "I mean, if it was my parents, I'd sort of HAVE to go. My mom leaves like fifty messages on my answering machine each day."

"I don't know," Jan sighed. "My parents and I were never close. They always seemed to prefer my sister over me."

"And that changed?"

"Yeah. Ever since my sister died, they won't leave me alone. It's not like I don't appreciate it or anything, but it gets annoying."

Mark laughed. "Trust me, I know what you mean." He paused then "Your sister died?"

"Yeah." Jan picked at her nails.

"I'm sorry," Mark said, softly.

"It's alright. We were never really close, even though she was only a year younger. But she was like Mommy and Daddy's little girl, you know?"

Mark nodded.

"Anyway, I'm sorry I'm piling this all on you. You probably couldn't care less."

"I do," he protested.

Jan shrugged.

"Do you have any pictures of you and your family?" he asked, trying to show her that he WAS interested.

"Yeah, I've got an album in my bedroom," she said, brightening up. "I'll be right back."

She left for a moment, and Mark sat still, twiddling his fingers.

"Back," she declared, sliding into the chair. She had in her hands a large velvet maroon picture album, with gold lining on the sides. It looked like it was about to fall apart.

"It's old," Jan said, sheepishly.

"I noticed," Mark said, looking at it.

"So, here we go," she said, with a sudden force of enthusiasm.

She flipped to the first page.

"Oh, jeez. Those are my parents on their anniversary."

"They look just like you," Mark said, scrutinizing the photos carefully. "Especially your mom."

"God, don't say that," Jan groaned.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. These pictures fill up another four pages," she warned him, as she flipped through pictures of her parents dancing, holding hands, gazing at each other, and then one of her dad singing karaoke to her mother. Mark raised his eyebrows at that one.

"He was drunk," Jan said, embarrassed.

"Yeah, I figured. They're cute."

Jan shot him another look.

"Sorry," he said, sheepishly.

Jan turned the next page.

"That's my mom when she was pregnant with me," she pointed, a small smile coming over her face. "And there's the aftermath," she pointed to a picture of herself as a newborn.

Mark leaned forward in his chair, intrigued.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't have any pictures of the birth," she joked.

Mark's face reddened and he sat back in his chair.

"There's me when I was a toddler . . . and there's pictures of my mom when she was pregnant with my sister." She flipped to the next page. "There's us when we were two. Don't laugh, I know I had chubby cheeks."

"All babies do," Mark said, "It's part of their charm. Besides, you were a cute baby."

"Thanks," Jan said, blushing.

She flipped through some more pictures of she and her sister when they were younger, and then some more of her parents.

"These last ones are more recent," she said, turning to the last page.

"Those are my parents back at the house I lived in before I moved here," she pointed. "And that's the four of us in front of the house."

Mark's eyes wandered over the picture, looking at the old fashioned farmhouse-looking house, surrounded by a faded white fence. He looked at Jan's parents, who had their arms around each other, then at Jan, sitting on the fence next to them. Then he saw her sister, kneeling on the ground. His jaw dropped. Now he knew why Jan's sister had looked so familiar in the baby pictures.

"What's wrong?" Jan asked, frowning.

Mark didn't answer. He stopped gaping, but he stared at Jan's sister, mesmerized.

He'd thought that April was an only child.