We coined the term one-one-nine over twenty years ago. Whereas a code nine-one-one meant an emergency that we, unfortunately, had no choice but to involve our parents in, a one-one-nine could and should remain between us siblings.

Nik graciously granted us all two one-one-nine uses per year in childhood.

But the rule was that we’d have only one after the age of eighteen to use in perpetuity.

That goes for all of us. We have one Get Out of Jail Free card.

One Hail Mary. One help-me-bury-the-body-and-don’t-ask-questions. Then, you’re on your own.

“Yeah,” I answer. “It feels a bit extreme; don’t you think? He’s dreamed of opening his brewery for years and we’ve never been a part of that plan. What could possibly constitute an emergency?”

“He never specified it had to be used in an emergency…. And, if I recall correctly, you used yours to make me catch a mouse for you when we were backpacking in Costa Rica.” She leans her hip up against the van and digs around in her oversized tote for what I hope is not a cigarette.

“So, maybe let’s not be so quick to judge. ”

“It was Ecuador,” I correct her, “and it was a rat, not a mouse. Plus, you said we didn’t have to count that because a one-one-nine is only for situations that require both siblings, and Nik was here playing house. I’m saving mine for my forties, when I plan to hit rock bottom.”

“That doesn’t sound like something I’d say,” Nadia replies as she continues rifling through her bag. “And Nik wasn’t playing house, he’d fucking committed to the bit. But I guess you’d already skipped town by the time he got Sef knocked up and married her a month later….”

I’d been gone for only three months when my brother popped the question.

I couldn’t go back for the wedding. I just…

couldn’t. I could finally breathe, lost in the middle of nowhere.

I finally felt some semblance of freedom, some control over my own life.

Still, I know Nik hates me just a little for not showing up. And, I hate myself a little for it too.

Nadia’s arm is deep enough inside of this tote bag of hers that she should consider asking it if it has a safe word. “All right, what’re you looking for in there?” And please don’t say a cigarette.

She rolls her eyes, again. “Relax, I quit….”

“Okay, good.” Wait; how did she? “Wait, I didn’t—”

“Aha!” she says, pulling out a neatly folded lined piece of paper. “Here,” she says, handing it to me.

I unfold it, and immediately recognize my handwriting and half-scribbled signature at the bottom of the page, though I don’t remember writing any of it. To be fair, Nadia and I don’t typically stay sober for very long when in each other’s company.

“I, Milo Kablukov, hereby grant Nadia Kablukov the right to one pack of cigarettes whenever she is within a twenty-mile radius of either of our parents.” I look up, noticing that she’d mouthed the words along with me as I’d read them.

“ Furthermore, I will purchase them for her without complaint. Signed on the fifteenth of May, 2022…” We say that last part in unison.

I scrunch it up into a ball in my fist. “Didn’t you just say you quit? Won’t this, like, fuck that up?”

“I’m not going to smoke them!” she says, rolling her eyes, then they harden as she purses her lips. “Unless we end up seeing Mom and Dad. Then, all bets are off.”

I sigh, tossing the paper back and forth between my hands. “Nik said they haven’t come by his new place at all. That we probably won’t—”

“I know.” She rips the balled-up note away from me and begins smoothing it out. “I asked him too.”

“Fine,” I say, turning to walk toward the driver’s seat. “But you can never smoke inside of Bertha. She’s got asthma,” I shout over the top of the van. Plus, I’m not fully confident she won’t somehow combust if we light a match in her. She does have a slight gasoline-tank-leaking smell.

We both get inside, fasten our seatbelts, and reach out to pat the bobblehead Jesus.

Nik bought him for me ten years ago as a gag gift the day I bought Bertha from his best friend’s grandma, her namesake.

None of us siblings are remotely religious, but we are creatures of habit, and I can no longer drive without first forcing all passengers to pay their respects to bobblehead Jesus.

“I seriously cannot believe that Bertha’s still going.” Nadia looks around cautiously. “How old is she now?”

“You know better than to ask a lady’s age.

” I think back to the hill, my obituary, and then to the memory of my little sister ten years younger than she currently is, sitting in the passenger seat, asking me for the last time to not leave town.

I decide then to take the long way to Nik’s new place, avoiding any hills, highways, or possible dangers.

I’m more than willing to roll the dice with my own life, but not hers.

“But seriously, is she still safe to drive?”

“Why? You worried about me, Nads?” I ask, winking at her.

In a totally unexpected move from the invulnerable youngest Kablukov sibling, she nods.

I cut the teasing and go for sincerity. “She nearly quits on me every day, but I like to think of that as her way of flirting.” I push down on the gearshift so it doesn’t pop out of place, and attempt to shift the van from park into drive as Nadia braces herself with one hand on the grip handle above the door and the other on the dash.

“Flirting with death, maybe.” She turns toward me as the engine purrs, and we begin rolling backward slowly, toward the sunken edge of the parking lot. “Your attachment to this van will get you killed,” she says, looking anxiously at the back windshield.

I fight to get Bertha out of neutral, and then put my foot on the pedal, driving us away from the small station. “Nah, that’s not the way I plan to go.”

She sighs. “Dare I ask?”

“I’m going out in a blaze of glory on my sixty-ninth birthday. My vision is a crowd of naked people cheering me on as I attempt to jump a motorcycle between cliffs, but instead, I plummet to the shark-infested waters below.”

“Sounds about right.” She pauses to pinch her temples. “I’m happy to hear that you’ve got life goals, I guess”—her head tilts sharply—“or would that be death goals?” she whispers.

I ignore her. “I, of course, survive the fall and fight off the sharks,” I add, making a right turn onto the main strip of road that connects most of the small towns around here.

“Naturally.” Nadia pokes at a button for the radio, clearly trying to shut me up, but nothing plays.

Joke’s on her—the radio hasn’t worked for at least three years now.

There is a tape stuck in there that plays only one song, and you have to hit all the buttons in a certain sequence to get it to work.

I will not be teaching her. She will have to endure the ramblings of her favorite brother instead.

“I’m taken to the hospital, naturally, for my minor injuries….”

“Sure.” She turns the volume dial, then hits the cassette slot with the heel of her palm. “At what point in this story do you actually die?”

“Give me a second!” I slap her hand away from the buttons on the dash. “Eventually, one of the nurses hears the tale of my heroism and, tragically, he or they or she rides me so hard in my hospital bed that my heart gives out.”

She recoils, putting space between us as she leans toward the passenger door and shoots daggers at me with her eyes.

“No?” I ask. “I thought that was the perfect plan.”

“What is—and please feel free to really dig deep here before you answer—wrong with you?”

“Fuck, sorry for having aspirations!” I take my eyes off the road for only a second to smile at her.

Nadia’s arms are crossed as she leans back in her seat, enraptured by the view out the window of the storm clouds gathering above us.

I allow the silence for a minute, maybe even two, before I can no longer stand it.

“So…” I drum my thumbs on the steering wheel. “Want to catch me up?”

“On?”

“Your life.”

“Do I have to?”

Yes. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

Her jaw tightens, but she still answers through gritted teeth. “No.”

“Girlfriend?”

She chuckles, kind of— it’s more like a scoff. “No; still straight.”

“God, you and Nik are so boring! Bisexuality is the way of the future….”

“ You are the agenda that Fox News is always blathering on about.”

That makes us both smile, which sends a rush of relief through my veins. “Which part of the city are you living in? Do you like it?”

“A shitty month-to-month apartment with the aforementioned haunted lamp in Moss Park. I gave up my lease to come here, though.”

“Career?”

She laughs dryly.

“Okay, but a job?” I ask.

“I was bartending for a bit but, again, I quit it for this.”

I turn to her, attempting to keep my eyes on the road as I communicate my clear surprise. “ You, Nadia Annika Kablukov, were in a customer service position?”

“I know.” She giggles darkly, flashing her eyes at me.

“Admittedly, I didn’t make tips. But!” She perks up, straightening in her seat.

“My bar did have this drink called the Hurricane where dudes would pay me to pour a shot into their mouth, make them swallow it, then throw water at them before slapping them across the face.”

“Okay, now I’m seeing the appeal. That sounds like your dream come true.”

She sighs wistfully, placing a hand on her chest. “It was.”

“Anything else of note?” I ask. “Tell me something Nik or Sef don’t know so I can hold it over them.”

She leans her head toward the window as she thinks it over. I hate that it’s difficult. That Nik is probably checking in with her as often as he checks in with me. Except Nadia probably responds…unlike me. “I almost adopted a cat,” she offers.

“No shit, really? What happened?”

“He was living on my fire escape and screaming every night, so I started feeding him. Mostly just to get some sleep at first, but then I stupidly got attached to the thing. He looked like he had fleas, so I didn’t want to let him inside without getting him checked out first….” Her voice trails off.

“Okay, then what?” I ask, slowing to a stop as we approach a red light.

“I took him to the local animal shelter and they found one of those microchips in his ear. Turns out, he’d run away from home.

” She pauses to throw a playful smirk my way—as if to say You’d know something about that.

“His owner had never stopped looking for him, I guess. He got picked up later that day.” Her voice softens, almost as if she’s… feeling.

This is new territory for Nadia and me. I’ve got no problem confessing my sentiments, sins, and secrets to whomever is spending the night in my bed, but my family did not do feelings growing up, let alone express them to one another. “I’m sorry you couldn’t keep him, зайка.”

She makes a dismissive noise, akin to a cleared throat. “It’s probably for the best. I wasn’t ready for that level of commitment.”

I chuckle, thinking of the sad pair we are in comparison to our family-man big brother who craved commitment and steadiness from birth. “Fair enough.”

She shrugs it off. “How about you? Where have you been?”

“I was following a carnival around Texas for a while. I drew caricatures next to the ring-toss game. Sometimes they’d let me play for free when it was slow.”

“I’m proud of you for maintaining your artistic integrity.”

“All right, well, I’m a big boy, Nads.” I pat my stomach, keeping my face forward as my eyes slide to her. “I can’t afford to be a starving artist.” And I was for a minute, when I was still trying to sell my art instead of my soul.

“Well, you do love carnival food,” she adds.

“I was cured of that by the third week.” I could gag even imagining corn dogs and, as a rule, I love phallic-shaped food.

“Where were you before Texas?”

“Here, there, and everywhere. I did a little bit of landscaping work in Tela, taught golf in Puerto Plata to tourists…I was a pool boy for a wealthy couple in Miami…. That type of shit.”

“You were a pool boy?” She laughs. “What do you know about pools?”

“I didn’t do much of the actual pool part of the gig, per se.”

Her face scrunches up in horror. “Oh god. Say less, please.”

I laugh. “Honestly, I was running out of money and Bertha definitely needed a break, so Nik’s SOS came at the right time.” I pause, considering what I just said. “Don’t—”

“I won’t tell him,” Nadia interrupts, pulling out her phone as she rolls her eyes. “Well, I think we’re all caught up,” she says, holding it up to the roof as if she’ll somehow get a signal that way. “Now what?”

“We should have paced ourselves better. What will we do for the rest of our two months together?”

“Right…two months…” She doesn’t look away from her phone.

“Nik said two months, right?”

She licks her lips quickly, forcing down yet another smirk. “He did say that to you, yes.”

“Nads…what do you know?” I ask, looking urgently between her and the road ahead. “Did you talk to Sef? What’s going on?” I knew Nik wouldn’t use his one-one-nine on a fucking bar opening. “Nadia!”

Nadia releases an incredulous laugh, her eyes glued to her phone as she scrolls. “You’ll have to wait and see, big brother.”