Human Sister

days in university when he and Elio’s father had been close friends.
    The next morning, however, the warm feelings became strained when, during breakfast, Dad announced that my brothers were interested in Elio and wanted to see him. “We’ve made arrangements for you and Sara to visit them this morning at the lab.”
    Elio glanced at me nervously before answering Dad: “I’d like to meet Sara’s brothers. I feel they are, in a way, my brothers, too.” Elio again glanced at me. “But I promised Grandpa before we left that I wouldn’t.”
    “What?” Mom said. “Why did you do that?”
    “Grandpa says it’s becoming increasingly dangerous to have knowledge of androids.”
    “What about Sara?” Mom asked. “She knows.”
    “I’ve known about my brothers since I was a little girl,” I said. “We can’t change that. But we can protect Elio from the risk.”
    Mom and Dad looked at each other. I was aware that I’d already acquired a quiet, comforting knowledge by which I knew much of what Elio thought even before he said a word, knowledge gleaned from such subtle signals as nods, shifts of body posture, frowns, blinks, or murmurs so slight that it was unlikely anyone else even noticed. And I was aware that he was becoming similarly attuned to me, so that a twin of each of our thoughts and feelings often seemed spontaneously to emerge and resonate in the other. Now, as I watched Mom and Dad look at each other, I wondered how much more of such implicit communication they shared after having been together for so many years.
    “Well, if you promised,” Mom finally said, “I guess there’s nothing we can do. But First Brother is going to be disappointed. I don’t know how many times he’s told me not to forget to bring Elio in to see him.”
    I was puzzled by First Brother’s interest in Elio, but I didn’t ask about it because I felt that my question might be perceived as envy: why the interest in Elio but not in me?
    The next morning, as we sat around the table after finishing breakfast, Mom reached out one hand to me, the other to Elio, who sat across from me. Dad did the same, resulting in the four of us being joined in a circle around the table. Mom and Dad seemed to exude unusual intensity in this joining of hands. Weeks later, Elio would tell me that for an instant he’d had the feeling we were about to embark on a séance.
    How could we have surmised then that it would be an ending?
    “I want to start,” Mom said, “by saying how much I love both of you, and how happy I am you came here to see us, Elio. Your father meant a great deal to both of us. He was a remarkable man, and Karl and I are so grateful that your relationship with Sara has brought you closer to us.”
    Elio smiled, but there was a look of longing on his face.
    Mom then turned to me. “I understand from your grandma that you and Elio had a private marriage ceremony alone near the airport in Amsterdam. We’d like it very much if you’d share that moment with us now.”
    She reached into her pants pocket, pulled out two bimetallic rings, yellow gold and white platinum, and placed them side-by-side in the middle of the table.
    “We thought you’d like something more formal with your family,” Dad said, “rather like an announcement to, and an acknowledgment from, the world of your love for each other.”
    The two rings blurred into each other through an aqueous film over my eyes. I swallowed hard and looked at Elio. How beautifully changeable he was, smiling broadly now, dark eyes sparkling, and every muscle in his face expressing delight and vibrant energy.
    “Do you remember the vows you gave each other?” Mom asked. “If they’re too private, you don’t have to. But if it’s okay, we’d like you to repeat them for us this morning.”
    “I’d like us to stand,” I said, “so that Elio and I can hold hands.” I wanted this occasion, this recognition of belonging to a family and to Elio, to be as intimate as possible.
    Dad glanced around the room. “How about in front of the fireplace?”
    Elio and I stood in front of the red-brick fireplace, above which hung a large evergreen wreath covered with brightly colored little ornaments. Never before had I seen anything resembling holiday decorations in Mom’s house. Perhaps it is true, I thought, that people mellow with age.
    Mom stood beside me, holding a ring. Dad stood beside Elio, holding the other ring. Elio took my hands in his, and I began the