by E. E. Holmes
I only vaguely remembered agreeing to Aunt Karen’s insistence that I come to live with her. Had I been in my normal state of mind, I would have been horrified to agree to such an arrangement. After all, I was eighteen, technically a legal adult, and to be honest I’d been taking care of myself for a good long time. I should have said no. Thanks for the concern, but I’m not your problem. Trouble was, I couldn’t get myself to say much of anything coherent for a while.
The one good thing about going to stay with Karen was that I wouldn’t have to be there for long. I’d come out of my walking coma about three weeks after the funeral. As I packed up my things, aided by a sympathetic Mrs. Morelli, I came to my senses. My mother would never have wanted me unloaded onto Karen like this, not when they hadn’t so much as talked to each other in almost twenty years. It was too late to go back on the arrangement, but I promised myself that I would be out of Karen’s hair in one year. I would find myself a job near St. Matt’s, save up as much money as I could, find myself an apartment near the campus by the next summer, and that would be that. I had no intention of permanently reestablishing connections my mom had wanted to sever.
The bus splashed and spattered its way into the brightly lit portico of Boston’s South Station.
“Welcome to Boston, folks. Please remember to check under your seats and take all of your belongings with you. Have a great night and thank you for riding with Greyhound,” the exhausted driver chanted. The fluorescent interior lights flickered to life with a hum and the passengers began to stir slowly.
Frank grunted himself awake, looking disoriented. He blinked sleepily at me.
“We’re there already? That was quick, huh?” He yawned, scratched his stubble, and stood up. His joints popped like a handful of little white snappers on a summer sidewalk. “Guess I better put this Yankees hat away, or I might get my ass kicked, huh?”
I smiled weakly. It was at least the tenth Boston/New York rivalry reference he’d made.
The people began to trickle slowly toward the front of the bus. Frank helped muscle my dufflebag down from the overhead racks and I joined the shuffling queue. A nervous feeling was mounting in my stomach. It was depressing to feel anxious about arriving at a place that was now “home.”
§
Out in the downpour, I pulled my sweatshirt hood over my head and started squinting around for Karen’s car. I didn’t have to look for long.
“Jessica! Over here!” She flagged me down from beneath an enormous plaid umbrella.
I waved back half-heartedly and heaved my dufflebag toward her. She met me halfway and sheltered me under the umbrella.
“Is this everything? You don’t have anything to get from under the bus?” She grabbed the handles and helped pull.
“Nope, this is it. I shipped everything else to St. Matt’s yesterday.”
We jogged to the car. It was a gleaming black SUV, what my mother would call a “look-at-me car.” Ironic, considering people always stared with their mouths hanging open at our ancient green Volkswagen—probably shocked that the thing could even function. Mom had called it vintage. I’d called it a good reason to carry an organ donor card. My mom had dubbed her deathtrap “The Green Monster,” after the infamous left field wall at Fenway Park. Sometimes moving around in that car felt like a tour of the nation’s seediest auto body shops. But every time I opened my mouth to tell my mother to sell the damn thing, I just couldn’t; it was the one piece of home she’d brought with her. Even now that she was gone, I’d felt like a traitor selling it. But room and board wasn’t cheap, and there was no parking for freshman on campus anyway. Adios, Green Monster.
Karen and I slammed the doors simultaneously. She tossed the dripping umbrella into the backseat and looked over at me, grinning. The knot in my stomach loosened just a little. She actually looked genuinely glad to see me.
“So, Jessica, how—”
“—Actually, it’s just Jess, if you don’t mind. Everyone calls me Jess.”
“Oh. Right, sorry. So, Jess, how was your trip?”
“It was fine. No traffic or anything.”
“Good, good. I know the pike can be a nightmare sometimes,” she said as she started the car and pulled onto the street. “We’ll be home in just a few minutes. You must be starving. Did you eat at the rest stop?”
I shook my head. I was a junk food junkie, but fast food and long bus rides were a dangerous combination, so I’d skipped the McDonald’s.
“I had Noah order some food so that we’d have something for you when you got here. I’m not much of a cook.” She made an apologetic face.
“That’s okay, neither was my mom.” I smirked a little, my memory flooded with smells of charred, brick-like casseroles and other failed culinary experiments.
Karen laughed. “That’s true; we did have that in common. Noah just picked up some Thai food. Is that okay? We could grab a pizza or something on the way home if you don’t like Thai, there’s a great little pizza place just around the—”
“—No, no, Thai food’s fine.”
“Oh, good. We eat Thai a lot, especially because our favorite place is open so late. And they’ll deliver to my office!”
We drove by a stretch of designer stores I would never even attempt to go into; I liked to shop as much as the next girl but I didn’t want to get depressed over the price tags. Most of it wasn’t really my style anyway; I tended to haunt vintage stores. Karen, on the other hand, probably frequented them. Even at midnight in the pouring rain, her impeccably-styled pixie cut was flawless and her make-up looked airbrushed. Her clothes were simple and casual, and yet gave the distinct impression of very high quality. Her features had a familiarity that made my heart ache.
She caught my eye as I gazed at her and I swiftly looked away. I fished for a topic of conversation.
“Do you and Noah work near here?”
“Not far at all, just into the business district on the other side of the Prudential Center.” She pointed up at the towering outline of the skyscraper. “We both work for the same law firm, but you wouldn’t know it, considering how rarely we see each other during the day.” She rolled her eyes. “Our case loads very rarely converge.”
We pulled along Marlborough Street, which was lined with beautiful brownstones, packed shoulder to shoulder like stately soldiers permanently at attention. Karen swung the car into its narrow spot, palming the wheel with one hand with the effortless expertise of a true city dweller.
“Nice one.”
“Thanks,” she replied. “I have to say, parallel parking was one skill I had to learn as a city girl. You should have seen Noah try to do it when he first moved here. It was pretty pathetic. We lost several good bumpers and pissed off a lot of neighbors.” She squinted out of the streaming windshield and sighed. “Well, this rain isn’t letting up any time soon. We might as well get this over with.”
We flung the doors open and darted around the back of the car to retrieve my bag. Noah had been silhouetted against the window as we’d pulled up, and now bolted down the steps to help us. Though only outside the car for about thirty seconds, we were drenched by the time we crossed the threshold into the entryway.
“Hi, Jessica,” Noah said. There was an awkward moment as he tried to decide whether to hug me or shake my hand. He compromised by patting me on the shoulder. “We’re glad to have you.”
“She prefers Jess, actually,” Karen said.
Noah raised his eyebrows and turned back to me. “Right. Sorry, Jess.” I’d only met Noah once, on the afternoon of my mother’s funeral. I could definitely tell that he had once been really good-looking. His hair and moustache were still thick and shiny, though streaked liberally with gray. He was tall with what was once an athletic build, though he’d softened up with age. He wasn’t as social as Karen, at least not around strangers; I could relate to that at least. After the funeral he didn’t seem to know what to say to me, and so he’d said very little. He’d stared at me a good deal though, and I recogni
zed the symptoms of someone freaked out by my appearance. He had eyed my fishnet tights, combat boots, and dyed hair with definite disapproval. From the sideways glances I was getting now, I could tell not much had changed.
“I’ll show you around, Jess. Noah, honey, bring the bag up and then we’ll all have a bite to eat,” Karen said.
Noah and my bag disappeared up a polished oak staircase and Karen gave me what she called the “grand tour.” I could tell that she meant it sarcastically, but I couldn’t see what there was to be sarcastic about. Their apartment was… well, amazing. They had purchased the ground floor apartment first, and then bought the second floor as well when it became available. They then renovated both floors into a single apartment. It all had the look of a five star hotel. Intricate oriental rugs dotted the hardwood floors and an eclectic collection of artwork adorned the walls like jewelry. I was pretty sure the one over the mantelpiece was a real Picasso. I almost choked on my gum when I saw it. The downstairs comprised a living room and dining room, both full of antique furniture; a gourmet kitchen, which Karen called “all for show,” since she was rarely home to cook; a mahogany-lined study, and a magnificently appointed bathroom. As we went from room to room, I instinctively kept my hands in my pockets; I felt like a second-grader on a museum field trip, forbidden to touch anything. Upstairs Karen and Noah had a master suite with a four poster bed and Jacuzzi-ed bathroom. Karen’s office was up on this floor, contained behind leaded glass doors. She turned a last corner and opened the door on the right.
“And here’s your room,” she said. “I hope everything is comfortable for you.”
I stared around, gaping. Every inch of wall space was covered in bookshelves, from floor to ceiling, and each shelf was bursting with more books than I’d ever seen outside of a public library or bookstore. In the corner were a bed, an armchair, and a nightstand. A matching bureau stood against the opposite wall, and a mirror hung on the inside of the door.
“I know it’s not completely ideal,” Karen said. “I mean, there’s no closet in here and no room for a desk, but you can use the closet right out in the hall for whatever won’t fit in the bureau. And I remembered seeing all the books in your room at home, so I thought you might not mind being in here. Obviously we’ve been using it as a library.”
I walked around, examining the shelves. “I can’t believe how many books you have.”
Karen looked pleased. “Well, I’ve always been a reader, so was your grandfather. And your mother, as I’m sure you know. I’ve taken out all the law books, so we won’t have to come in here bothering you with work stuff. And I put your mother’s books in here too.”
“My mother’s books?”
“Yes, she left a number of boxes of books behind when she left home. I’d been saving them in the attic for… well, I’m not really sure why, but they were here, and I thought you might like to have them in your room. I hope that’s okay.
“Thank you,” I managed. Familiar names leapt from the bindings: the Brontë sisters, Jane Austen, Shakespeare, Edgar Alan Poe. A few of them even looked like first editions. Being surrounded by so many familiar stories was like reuniting with old friends, and I fought fiercely against the tears that threatened to well up in my eyes. I really didn’t want Karen to see me cry, and quite frankly I was tired of crying. It was starting to feel redundant.
“I’ll just let you get settled and then why don’t you come on downstairs and we’ll have something to eat,” Karen said, tactfully backing out and closing the door.
We ate sitting on the floor around the coffee table in the living room. Despite the initial impression that nothing in the house should be touched, Karen and Noah were pretty casual about their place, Noah kicking his shoes off in the middle of the living room floor and eating his Pad Thai while leaning on the pristine cream sofa. Not quite so brave, I sat on the rug and leaned over the coffee table to eat. We watched the end of a baseball game.
“You know, this might be illegal around here, harboring a Yankees fan,” Noah joked.
I didn’t bother to correct him about my complete lack of association with the Evil Empire. Instead we talked about the plans for the following week. I only had ten days before I was scheduled to move into St. Matt’s.
“So I thought we could drive out together in the morning and try to beat the rush onto campus. Noah and I both took the day off,” Karen said. She poked around in her noodles and speared a hunk of tofu.
“I can just take the train out; it stops just outside campus. I’ve just got the one bag to bring. I can get myself unpacked okay.”
Karen was shaking her head before I’d even finished speaking. “Don’t be silly, Jess, it’s no trouble. We want to help, right Noah?”
Noah nodded absently in agreement, his eyes fixed on the game. “Mmhmm, absolutely.”
Karen winked at me. “See? All settled. I’ve never been to St. Matthew’s before anyway. I want to see where you’ll be going to school.”
I surrendered, though still feeling like a nuisance. We finished eating and I helped clean up. Foil-wrapped leftovers and take-out containers populated the fridge, teetering on each other like an edible game of Jenga.
“See how domestic my lovely wife is? Betty Crocker incarnate,” Noah said, balancing the half-eaten container of Pad Thai on a pizza box.
“Oh shut up, would you?” Karen said. “Jess, let’s get you to bed, you look absolutely wiped out.”
Washing up in the marble bathroom felt odd; my toothbrush and toothpaste looked like squatters illegally occupying the pristine counter. As I climbed into bed less than ten minutes later, sporting sweatpants and one of my favorite old tees, a quiet knock sounded against the door.
“Come in.”
Karen poked her head around the doorframe, a pair of stylish square-framed reading glasses perched on the end of her nose.
“Are you all settled in? Do you need anything?”
“I’m all set, thanks,”
“Okay, good. I just wanted to say good night.” She looked like she wanted to say more than that. She lingered in the doorway for a moment before she spoke again. “Jess, I just want you to know something.”
I waited.
“The fact that I haven’t been in your life—well, it wasn’t by choice. I’m not blaming your mother or anything. Our falling out was both of our faults, but I just want you to know that I loved her very much. We loved each other.”
“I know.” I wasn’t just humoring her; it was the truth. She’d been absolutely distraught about my mother. I’d seen it firsthand.
“And asking you to stay here- I don’t want you to think of it as charity or something.” She cringed a little at the word. “You’re family. These were terrible circumstances to meet under, I know. I wish it could have been while your mother was still alive, but that wasn’t meant to be. I’m not sure if we’ll ever know why she jumped, but ….”
My head snapped up. “She didn’t jump.”
Karen looked taken aback. “I thought the police ruled it a—”
“—Well, they were wrong. She didn’t do that. She would never have done that.” Without ever intending to, I was almost yelling.
“I… okay. I’m sorry.” Karen didn’t seem to know what else to say, and so she just mumbled a quick good night and shut the door.
I stared at the door for a long time, my blood pounding angrily in my ears. I knew I’d been rude, but I couldn’t help it. It was the same reaction I had every time anyone even suggested that my mother’s death was a suicide, and somehow, hearing it from Karen made it even worse. She had no right to make assumptions about my mom, not anymore. She hadn’t spoken a word to her in years. She hadn’t followed her around the country, dealing with the collateral damage she left in her wake. I had, and I would have known if my mom was suicidal. Self-destructive, yes. Perpetually drunk, absolutely. Suicidal? No way.
I gazed around in the darkness, watching the odd angular shadows the bookcases made on the ceiling. As my ange
r ebbed away, I became aware of how exhausted I felt, though the fatigue refused to extend to my thoughts, which were still whirring. Sleep fought for several hours with my emotions before it finally won.
2
FAMILY TIES
I STUMBLED DOWN TO THE KITCHEN THE NEXT MORNING, having slept much later than I’d meant to. Vaguely disturbing nightmares had interrupted my sleep regularly until near daylight, at which point I had finally been able to drop into a few hours of good, deep sleep. When I opened my eyes again, it was nearly 10:30. I halted at the bottom of the stairs at the sound of my name. I listened carefully. “Jessica had no right to yell at you like that. I could hear her from downstairs,” Noah was saying. “She had every right. I should have known better than to bring it up,” Karen replied.
“Well, if you ask me, that’s indicative of a nasty temper.”
“I don’t remember asking you, actually.”
“Yeah, you didn’t really consult me on much of this at all, did you? We don’t know anything about this girl.” “She’s Lizzy’s daughter, Noah. That’s all I need to know.” “I think a few more details would be nice! Does she really need to dress like that? The neighbors are going to see her hanging around and call the police!” “Oh relax, will you? She’s got a unique style, there’s nothing wrong with that.” “Are you sure she isn’t into witchcraft or devil-worship or something like that?”
“Noah, don’t be absurd, please! She is a nice kid who happens to dress a little differently from what you’re used to. That doesn’t make her a punk. In fact, she must be an exceptional student to get a full boat to a school like St. Matthew’s. And anyway, she’s been through a lot, moving all over the place, a different school every six months, and now she loses her mother. If she’s acted out a bit, looks-wise, you can hardly blame her. The kid’s just expressing herself. Honestly, Noah, you didn’t used to be this much of a stiff when I met you. In fact, I happen to remember a certain pair of leather pants that you—”