Sour Grapes

breakfast, with only one cup of coffee in your bloodstream. And while they’re making rules, there should be another one about kid sisters showing up unannounced and uninvited. They oughta be required to give you a thirty-day notice so that you can move.”
    She chug-a-lugged another cup of coffee, then added, “And I say that with the deepest affection for Atlanta and all of my adorable siblings.”
    Tammy nodded. “Gotcha. Don’t you sometimes wonder if you’re ever going to get them all raised?”
    “Naw, I gave up on that dream long ago. They’re perpetual juveniles. Dysfunctional to infinity.”
    Tammy studied Savannah thoughtfully as she continued her food preparations. “How about you?” she asked. “You had the same parents—or lack of parenting—that they had. Plus you had the additional burden of being the eldest and all those responsibilities. Why aren’t you dysfunctional?”
    Savannah laughed and broke an egg into the skillet. “What makes you think I’m not?”
    “You’re one of the most together ladies I know.”
    “That’s pathetic, Tam. Obviously, you’ve had lousy role models. Besides, I don’t have time to be dysfunctional. I can hardly function as it is.”
    The sound of a car’s horn blasted, just outside the kitchen door. Savannah left the eggs frying to take a look at her driveway. “A Yellow cab,” she said. “Gee, we must have company. Who do you suppose it is?”
    As she turned down the heat under her breakfast and made her way out the kitchen door with Tammy behind her, Savannah felt a flood of contradictory emotions, ranging from warm and fuzzy, to seriously irked. The strongest was guilt... guilt that she wasn’t happier to see her own flesh and blood arriving on her doorstep. But she slapped a pseudo-smile across her face and hurried to the taxi, her furry slippers flapping on the cement driveway.
    The back door of the cab swung open and out came a guitar case, followed by an enormous garment bag… and a positively bony teenager who couldn’t possibly have been spawned in the gene pool with anyone related to Savannah.
    Rather than the dark-haired, voluptuous beauty she had been the last time Atlanta had visited, this girl was painfully thin, with sunken cheeks and ribs showing beneath her midriff-cropped stretchy shirt. And her hair, — naturally the same dark chestnut as Savannah’s, was a platinum blond haypile, stacked on her head and held with a dozen glittering, butterfly barrettes.
    Savannah’s heart sank and a queasy feeling hit her stomach with a wallop. The kid was sick! The kid was very sick, maybe even dying! Yes, that had to be it! She had come to California to live out her final days, basking in the healing golden sunlight, listening to the eternal song of the ocean waves and—”
    “Hey, Van, I’m here to compete in a beauty pageant!” the girl shouted, running toward her, guitar case and garment bag fluttering in the breeze. “Isn’t that just the coolest thing?!”
    “Uhhh... yeah... cool.”
    Atlanta gave her an enormous, enthusiastic hug, whacking her on the back with the heavy case and tangling her hair in the bag’s zipper tab. “Are you glad to see me? Are you surprised?”
    “Very glad, sweetie... and surprised.” Savannah placed a kiss on each of her sister’s gaunt cheeks and realized that she was glad to see her... and somewhat amazed that she was so glad. The kid was a pain in the rear end, as Gran had said, but she loved her. She loved all of them; how could she not?
    Atlanta released Savannah and turned to give Tammy a peck on the cheek. “Hey there. You still workin’ for my sister? I figured you would’ve flown the coop by now, no more than she pays you.”
    Tammy received the kiss gracefully and replied with a noncommittal grunt. Savannah was grateful, knowing that Tammy held no deep or abiding affection for any of her siblings who had appeared on her doorstep. Bringing their own bundles of troubles and idiosyncrasies with them, they hadn’t exactly made good impressions on Savannah’s California friends.
    “Let’s get you inside,” Savannah said, as the driver exited the cab and began to unload the trunk. A frightening amount of luggage was being dumped on the driveway, and Savannah started to worry about her impromptu visitor’s Estimated Time of Departure. Savannah didn’t recall moving in that much clothing when she bought the house.
    Picking up as many of the bags as she could handle, she started