Derek stood at the barbecue grilling steaks while Emily sat nearby, leaning back in the deck chair as she watched (and spooned potato salad directly from the communal bowl and into her mouth).
Her diploma had arrived in the mail that morning, so they were celebrating her graduation in the Morgan way – which meant family, food (not the fancy hor d'oeuvres kind), and actually enjoying yourself...the opposite of her mother's type of celebration.
"Do you think I should eat my placenta?" Emily asked out of the blue.
Derek choked on a sip of his soda, coughing and sputtering as he tried to recover his composure. "What!?" he asked. "What... Why... Why would you even ask that?"
"The steaks reminded me..."
He nearly gagged as he looked down at the meat, but decided it wise not to tell her that was disgusting, lest her oversensitive emotions take offence. What he did say was, "Do people really do that?"
"Sometimes. It's supposed to help with postpartum depression and stuff," she said with a shrug. "You don't actually have to eat it like a steak...usually, it's dried and taken in pill form."
He nodded thoughtfully. "Isn't it a little soon to be thinking of that?"
"He'll be here before you know it," she insisted. "And we haven't planned anything."
"Anything?" he repeated dubiously. "Like what?"
She huffed. "Like whether to get an epidural. Whether to give birth in the hospital or at a birthing centre. Whether you'll cut the cord or the doctor will. And those are just the basics."
Derek blinked, stunned, for a few moments. "Whoa...I didn't realize there was so much to think about." He shrugged.
Raising a brow, Emily said, "You realize that they send us home with a baby afterwards, right?"
"Ha ha," he said sarcastically. "I'm aware – I just didn't think I needed to worry about it yet."
"When are you going to worry about it?"
"Are you actually annoyed or are you just messing with me?" he asked.
She pursed her lips. "I haven't decided yet."
"Well, could you decide not to be mad at me?" he asked with an adorable pout.
She appeared to think it over for a moment, then sighed dramatically and said, "Fine. But first, we do need to have a serious conversation about our birth plan."
"Can it wait?" he asked, "Because my Aunt Yvonne is going to be here soon and I'd really rather not have a discussion about your cervix in front of her."
She laughed, mouth full of potato salad. "Oh!" she said suddenly, "That reminds me: we need to have a discussion about Godparents."
His face got sad for a moment, then stony.
Emily, of course, instantly understood without him saying a word. "You should talk to your sister," she said softly, "I think your fight has gone on long enough."
He seemed to want to argue the matter, but didn't have the chance before his family came bustling through the door with their signature joyful chaos.
"Steaks done yet?" Cyndi asked loudly, elbowing Derek forcefully. "I'm starving."
"Derek?"
He turned sharply, startled, as he poured Emily a glass of lemonade. "Sarah..." he said flatly.
"Could we...go for a walk?" she asked meekly.
He sighed and visibly wanted to say no, but eventually heaved another sigh and declared, "Fine."
Their walk took them meandering through the neighbourhood to the convenience store on the corner. It was a path they used to walk all the time when they were younger; when Fran needed something from the store, they'd race each other to see who could get there first, the three children jockeying for who got to be the one to pay for the requested item...or, on the rare occasion when they had a few dollars in their pocket to spend on ice cream.
Neither said anything until they were standing in front of the store, staring at sun-beaten posters for ice cream and gasoline. Then, Sarah exclaimed, "I'm sorry, okay!? Please, stop being mad at me!"
"Sarah..."
"No, please, listen," she begged. "I hate this – you're my brother and I want us to be friends again!"
He glowered at her for a few moments, then shook his head. "You don't get it, Sarah, Emily and Simba are my world and if you can't get on board with that, then I don't care who you are, but we can't be friends."
"But..."
He shook his head. "There is no 'but' here. It's just how it is now. Tell me you understand that."
She chewed her lip, then said, "I do understand that... I guess...I'm just having a hard time letting go of you."
"You don't have to, though," he said, "That's the point. I want you to be a part of my life – and Simba's."
Then, in a small voice, "It is losing you, though. At least a little... You used to need me for things, but now you have Emily."
Derek looked like he wanted to be angry, but in a tone that contradicted his expression, he said, "Sarah, you be trippin'."
"Excuse me?"
"There's no replacing a sister," he said earnestly. "As long as she cuts the bullshit and accepts the woman I love."
She heaved a sigh, mumbled something under her breath. At his continued expectant expression, she repeated louder, "Fine."
"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" Derek taunted, wearing a shit-eating grin.
Glowering, she said, "I'll try to get over myself and be nicer to Emily."
"Good." He slung an arm over her shoulders and pulled her in to kiss her temple. "Now, you have to say it to Emily."
Sarah pouted.
He gave her a pointed expression.
She whined petulantly. "Fiiiiine, I'll apologize to Emily." A beat. "Assuming she'll speak to me."
"Welllll..."
She raised a brow in question.
"If this corner store has Nutter Butters and Sour Patch Kids, you're half way there," he said with a laugh.
"Together!?" she said in horror.
He laughed harder, then became deadly serious. "Do not say that to her face," he warned, "She will eat you..."
Sarah snorted in amusement. "I hope your son is cute," she teased, "Because if he's half the pain in the ass you are, you're in for a hell of a time."
"How dare you," he said in mock affront.
She smirked. "It's my job. I'm your sister."