Mom poked her head into the room, hair knobbed with curlers.
‘You need to talk some sense into that girl…’
She wore a bathrobe and held an orange and a glass of milk.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Dad.
‘She’s hiding in the closet again.’
‘Huh? What’s bothering her this time?’
‘It’s these awful books. Now she’s started reading about how daughters hate their moms and love their dads. As if I needed this today.’
Mom shook her head.
‘What?’ Dad asked, perplexed. ‘What’s she been reading?’
‘Psychology or something. What a load of baloney.’
Junior assumed a noble air. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get her out.’
‘Let me do it,’ Dad insisted. ‘I call the shots around here, see.’
‘Yeah, but Dad, what do you know about books?’
Junior left the room.
‘How long are you going to keep this up? Get out of there right now!’
Mom pounded on the door.
‘Go away!’ said Sis. ‘I’m being rebellious.’
The response was muffled, as if her face was buried in a cushion.
‘You’ve got it wrong, Sis,’ Junior said.
‘How so?’ she asked. ‘I’m an adolescent.’
‘We’re supposed to be going on a picnic!’ Mom shrieked. ‘Get out this instant!’
‘Hush a minute, will you?’ Junior pushed Mom aside, but pushed too hard. She tumbled to the floor and bashed her forehead. For a while she lay still. Leaving her like that, Junior crossed his arms.
‘Were you reading about the Electra Complex?’
‘Yeah,’ Sis answered from the closet.
‘Did you know that there’s a negative Oedipus Complex, too, though?’
‘Huh?’ Her voice was quiet. ‘What’s that?’
‘It’s when you form an attachment to a parent of the same sex.’
‘…Isn’t that the opposite?’
‘Exactly. In psychology, for any given case, there’s generally another case that constitutes the polar opposite. Though not in every single situation.’
‘…Really?’
Sis was losing confidence in her position.
‘I’ve read more books than any of us, right?’
No response.
Mom sat up, feeling woozy. She rubbed her forehead for a while. Apparently it wasn’t serious. She went over to the replicator.
‘Besides, do you realize how bored you’re gonna get if you stay cooped up in the closet?’
Junior was changing strategies.
‘…But…’
‘You call yourself an adolescent, but that’s bogus. This place has a different orbital period than Earth. Not like I’ve actually done the math, but I bet it’s different alright.’
Junior tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.
‘How old are you again?’ he asked. ‘In local years.’
‘Um, I guess… like seventeen or something?’ Sis was earnest, but sounded doubtful. ‘I’m not sure though. Sometimes my calendar stops working.’
‘Know what you mean. After a week, it’s all a blur. I’ve been trying to pinpoint when it was that human beings invented time. I’m still trying to figure it out, but evidently time was a big deal.’
Junior pulled up a chair and sat. In imitation of his father, he had a smoke. When he ashed on the floor, the robovacuum scurried over.
‘Yeah, but that’s exactly why I’m doing this.’
Sis fidgeted in the closet.
‘Don’t you realize?’ Junior asked. ‘Time is bogus. After 3 p.m. today, for all we know it’ll be 7 a.m. four days ago.’
Mom craned her neck at Junior. She was in the process of pulling a bamboo basket from the replicator. ‘What are you saying? Time is passing by just fine, thank you very much. We’re the ones who need to make sure that we keep on acting normally. Now get your sister out of the closet. Once I’ve got everything together, we’re heading out. This has been on the docket for quite a while.’
‘I get it, okay?’
Junior turned around, knitting his brow. Sometimes, it was okay to get upset with your parents. It was a regular occurrence in the dramas on TV.
‘Let’s talk about time later. Seventeen, huh? That’s pretty old to be going through adolescence.’
‘…So, what am I supposed to do?’ she asked reluctantly.
‘Well, women in their late teens wash their hair excessively. They stand in front of the mirror, trying on tons of different clothes. Sometimes they go on dates.’
‘Is that supposed to be more fun?’
‘Yeah, absolutely. Tons of fun.’
‘Alright.’
The door slid open from inside. Sis was sitting in the top compartment of the closet, hugging a pillow. Nimbly, she jumped down to the floor.
‘Whew, I’m tired. I was in there six whole hours. Mom took forever to notice.’
She reached her arms up high and stretched.
‘We were busy, that’s all,’ said Junior, attempting to console her.
‘I try to be rebellious, and our folks don’t even notice.’
Just like that, her voice was buoyant.
Mom headed for the kitchen, arms full of picnic fixings.
‘What’s that woman doing?’ asked Sis.
‘Making us lunch. And it’s a little weird to call your mom that woman.’
‘It’s fine once in a while.’
‘If you say so.’
Junior didn’t really know himself.
‘I’m going to get ready,’ Sis said.
His little sister stood before the replicator and punched a series of buttons.
‘INSUFFICIENT VEGETABLE OIL,’ quoth the replicator.
Among the contents of the basket Mom had set beside the machine was a tub of margarine. Sis scraped the tub clean with a knife, emptying it into the hopper.
The processing light flickered. At length, two tubes of lipstick popped from the machine, accompanied by a gentle tone.
‘Hey, think it can make some stuff for me, too?’ asked junior.
‘Sure.’
‘Let’s see… I’ll need a comb and some pomade. Or maybe gel instead.’
‘Changing your hairstyle?’
‘Yeah. Can’t decide if I’m gonna spike it up or do a pompadour.’
Junior thought of all the coming-of-age movies he had seen. All the different styles showcased in the bromides. Granted, the movies had a tendency to over-represent the American Graffiti look.
‘I’ll have some pomade.’
‘What make?’ Sis shot back.
He hadn’t thought of that.
‘Do I gotta be specific?’
‘The devil is in the details. If you care anything about fashion.’
Sis was a stickler for minutiae.
‘What kinds are there? I don’t know where to start.’
‘So for your different brands of product… there’s Yanagiya, Fiorucci, Lanvin…’
Sis was showing off.
‘That many kinds?’
‘Then there’s Nestle, Ajinomoto, Kewpie…’
‘Gimme one of the good ones.’
Sis manipulated the machine and pulled out a jar of pomade. It had a Kewpie emblem on the lid.
‘It’s the little things in life that matter.’
‘So I hear.’
‘I know way more about this kind of thing than you. I read the women’s magazines. I even know more about Sunday brunch than Mom. Girls are supposed to eat yogurt and fruit. Oh, and cheesecake.’
‘Look at you, acting like a real girl now.’ Junior was genuinely impressed. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you used to be a boy?’
‘Think so. It’s all kind of vague. Mom and Dad decided that having one boy and one girl would make for more variety. But the hairstyle and clothes are totally different. It’s a real pain. If I was still a boy, I could just copy you.’