Regarding Molly

Sometimes I wonder if I'm not related to aliens. I'm totally serious. My parents live in a different world I think, with their small suburban home, their little yappy dog, their plastic, light-up Santa Claus and their Winnebago. I can't even relate anymore. And Molly… well Molly called me last night. She's going to be in town on business, and she wants to see a show, have an expensive dinner, go shopping in Peddler's Village ... I mean, I live here and I never do that shit. She's so yuppie, my little sister. I don't know how we came from the same family.

When she arrives at my door I stand there blinking at her for a bit.

"Hello, jerk." She says to me, playfully using her childhood nickname for her big brother.

"Hi… squirt…" I respond reflexively but hesitantly, because no way is the woman that is standing in front of me a squirt.

She must have noticed how I was looking at her because the next thing she says is, "Sean…? Are you alright…?"

"You look… I mean… my god, Molly, you're fucking hot," I stammer. I'm totally stunned. This can't be the tomboy that was more into mud and bugs and tonka trucks than I was, can it? This is the bratty, braces-wearing teenager that blackmailed me into sharing my boy-skin magazines with her? I know I haven't seen her in nearly a year, but we talk all the time and stuff. I never would have dreamed she grew up so much. I can't believe it's really her.

When Molly laughs, though, all the short skirts and make-up in the world couldn't hide her identity from me. I know that laugh like I knew my favorite teddy bear as a child, or the sound of Nick's voice. Molly's laugh is comforting and familiar. "I'm sorry," I shake my head and laugh as well, "come on in."

"I thought you weren't into girls." She says, still giggling in her trademark little sister way as she steps into the foyer.

"I'm not into flowers either, but I know a rose when I see one…" I answer back, showing off a little, trying to impress her.

"Oh!" She runs back over and kisses me on the cheek. "That was very poetic and sweet, Sean, is that from one of your songs?"

"Nah, I was just trying to impress you as much as you've impressed me."

"I'm not giving you any money, Sean." Molly looks over her shoulder at me with an arch in her eyebrow.

I laugh. "Oh, shut UP, Molly, you brat. Would you like something to drink?"

She's giggling again, it lights up the whole apartment. "Yes, please." I go into the kitchen, and Molly follows me. "You have the day off right, Sean?"

"Yeah, and tomorrow too."

"In case we don't sleep tonight…" Molly grins conspiratorially.

I pour her some iced tea and nod. "We've been known not to. I just can't get over how good you look, Molly."

"You've completely missed the best part, Sean Jarlath Dugan." Molly says in a teasing tone, and I know that invoking my entire name means whatever I've missed is pretty damn important. I look her over again. It's like she went from 15 to 27 overnight. Bright blonde hair loose and wavy around her shoulders, a pretty blue sweater over enviable cleavage, a modestly short black skirt hugging her narrow waist, sheer black stockings, cute black boots…

"What am I missing?"

"Sean!" Molly sighs, exasperated. "Look!" She demands and shoves her hand under my nose. Her left hand. There's a sizeable rock set in platinum on her ring finger.

I guess she can totally read my reaction because she stomps her foot at me. "Be happy for me, you oaf." She says crossing her arms over her chest.

"I will be when you tell me it's not that… guy… " I wave my hand vaguely because his name escapes me.

"Tony?"

"Which one was he?"

"The mechanic."

"Yeah, him."

"No, it's not him." Molly smiles.

"Ok… and it's not the bartender?"

"Gus? Nono…"

"Please don't tell me it's Rocco…"

"Rico… and no, it's not him either. Sean! You don't know him."

"I don't know him?"

"No."

"You're engaged to a guy I don't know?"

"He's not just a guy, Sean, he's a man. He's a lawyer."

"Oh god, anything but a lawyer." I groan. Molly sighs and sips her iced tea, and I pace through the kitchen a bit.

"OK, what if I told you he's not actually a lawyer, he's really a politician…" she says.

"A politician? Molly…" I start to protest but she interrupts me.

"See? It doesn't matter what I say… he could be a doctor or a drug addict, it's all the same to you!"

"No it's not, Molly…"

"Sean, you're as bad as mom."

I'm surprised by that. "You told them?"

"Yeah."

"How did they take it?"

"Dad stood up and gushed over the ring and gave me a great big hug and told me he couldn't wait to meet him." Molly says in a slightly triumphant, I-told-you-so tone.

That's about what I'd expect of dad, he's sort of clueless if it doesn’t involve football or requires common sense. "And mother?"

"Mom says I can't possibly be engaged to someone she hasn't met."

"Fuckin' A, you're right, Mol. I am as bad as mother." I say, completely understanding where our mother is coming from on this one. Maybe I can relate after all.

"Sean!" Molly looks a little like I might make her cry, and making little sister cry is not on my list of things I meant to do today.

"Well do you have pictures at least?" I ask, and the little pout melts away as the droopy corners of her mouth perk up into a smile. "Yes!" She digs through the carry-on bag she dumped by her chair and comes up with a handful of pictures. She slips off her chair, and crosses her legs on the floor of the kitchen, patting the tile beside her for me to sit. Her skirt is way to short for her to sit like that, but I'm big brother and she just doesn't care. She hasn't cared since the day I told her I liked boys. I guess I was 13.

"Mol, I have a couch…"

"Oh, sit down Sean, you're no fun."

So, you know, I sit, because I want to be fun. I also roll my eyes. I lean on my hip next to her and brace my upper body on an arm behind her back so I can lean in and see.

"Ok." She holds up a picture of a young man, tallish, with shaggy brown hair. I'm prepared to hate him on looks alone, but he has a very open face and a really adorable smile. "This is Drew… Andrew…" She says happily. The next picture she shows me is Andrew sitting on a rock with his arm around her. She looks happy, he looks fuckable.

"I'd do him." I say, perfectly seriously, without censoring my big fat mouth. Fortunately, Molly reacts better than you might expect.

"No way? Really? Then you think he's hot too, huh?" She smiles at me and leans into my shoulder.

"Where did you meet him?" I ask as she shows me another picture of Andrew playing soccer, and then one more of a bunch of her friends and Andrew at a bar.

"Oh, well… he works at FDO." FDO is short for Furling, Dormeggan & Overlake, the name of the firm that Molly has sold her soul to since her first year out of law school.

"Your work together? Geez Molly, that is so…"

"Skeevy?" Molly wrinkles her nose.

"Well…"

"Yeah, I know. It does seem skeevy, huh? But he's a third year, not a big-ass partner or anything, and we kept it very discreet until the diamond went on my finger a week ago."

So, ok, he's hot and he's smart. I'm still not sure I approve. "How long have you been dating?"

"Three months."

"Th… Molly! Are you insane?" I stammer.

"Yeah, jerk, and I'm in love too."

"But Molly… three months…"

"Are you going to give me the same speech mom did or are you going to support me like a good brother ought to?" Molly asks, turning around slightly to look me right in the eye.

"That's, like, emotional blackmail or something, Mol."

"Yes, but will it work?" She says with a grin, knowing damn well it will.

I shake my head, conceding defeat. "When do I get to meet him?" I ask, because now there's nothing for it but to try to like the guy. Molly is a force of nature, an optimist with a very shiny pair of rose colored glasses. I see a lot in her that I knew of myself before Nick got so sick. Everything is possible for her.

That's why I'm not at all surprised when she answers, "Tonight, at dinner."

I think she, however, is quite surprised when I reply, "Great! Can I bring a date?"