Sienna hadn’t wanted to come to Brendan’s family do.
Credit: Jim Pavlidis
He hadn’t either, to be fair, but it wasn’t Brendan backed up against a wall having to smile politely through Uncle Fred’s spittle-flecked anecdote about losing his keys. (“It was Wednesday,” said Fred. “Actually, I lie. It was Tuesday. I know that because on Tuesdays ...” )
No, for the fourth time this afternoon, Brendan was on the porch, blissfully alone, smoking a cigarette.
Languorously, she noted, with irritation.
As Fred’s interminable story continued, Sienna watched through the window as Brendan tilted back his head and, provocatively, made clouds in the air.
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