Lizzie’s outburst answered so many of the questions that raced through Elyse’s mind. They sat silently in the car for a moment, each of them breathing as if they’d finished running for their lives. She supposed she could still stop the wedding—go and find Landon and her sister and tell them what she felt. The thought of it seemed like too much work and as she considered being honest, not just to Landon, but also to her sister, the heat of shame crept up her back. She reached for the open door and closed it.
After they’d been on the road several minutes, Lizzie cleared her throat. “I get it. The second time I blew out my knee, I thought I might kill myself. Not in that dramatic Heathers teen suicide way, but real. You know? I used to go for long drives and I’d stop the car on bridges that spanned freeways or lakes or railroad tracks and what I did was think about all the choices I’d made and how they’d all been the wrong ones. Then I’d stand as close to the edge and dare myself to take that last step. Finally I tried to talk to someone, a therapist, and it was all bullshit.”
Elyse reached for her cousin’s hand.
“He’d listen to me and then offer platitudes—say crap like even your failures have value or you learn the most from your regrets. And it’s all useless. Sometimes you make the wrong decision and it sets you back years or screws you up in ways you can’t foresee. You know this. You have to know this.”
Lizzie paused, lifting up the corner of her T-shirt to wipe at her face. “Isobel wasn’t sure we should do this—get involved, but I know we did right by you. Right up until this morning, I didn’t think you’d go through with it. And maybe you can’t see it now, or maybe you’ll never see it. But it was right.”
The sun was still too bright and the road curved in nauseating ways. The trees that lined the highway cast their shadows on the asphalt and created almost a checkerboard pattern of light and dark. Elyse closed her eyes against the sick that rose in her stomach, trying to block the harsh variations of light.
A motorcycle passed them in the opposite lane. Elyse whipped her head around, listening to its engine and trying to remember the sound of Landon’s bike. She caught a glimpse of the rider’s silver helmet and the back of his fringed jacket.
“That’s not him,” Lizzie said. “Too old, wrong jacket.”
“He would have come,” Elyse said, as her cousin reached to turn the radio on. “It would have changed everything.”
“Not for the better,” Lizzie said.
Elyse turned the air conditioning vents away from her and rolled down the window. She stuck her arm outside and let the air push against it. Who was to say what would be better? Lizzie left the main highway and made several turns. The trees thickened and the pavement turned to gravel. Just as Elyse thought to ask where they were going, the road ahead of them dead-ended at a boat dock.
“We’re really going canoeing?”
Isobel had parked her truck off the road, hidden among the trees. She walked forward and started to untie the boats from the top of the car. “I was afraid you’d gotten lost,” she said.
“We almost did,” Lizzie said, shutting the car off and stepping out to help with the boat. “Get the oars and the life jackets, will you?” she said to Elyse.
Elyse’s eyes shifted to her legs. She wasn’t dressed for boating. She wore a thin cotton sundress and flip-flops. Stepping out of the car, she shaded her eyes against the sun’s reflection off the water. The lake—or rather pond—was as still as glass. It mirrored the surrounding trees and small houses perfectly.
“It’s bigger than it looks. Opens up into a river that’s shaded all the way down. Or at least that’s what it said on the Internet,” Lizzie said. Elyse only half listened. The water spoke to her and without thinking about making a decision, she ran down the dock, dodging past her cousins, who nearly dropped the canoe, and did a cannonball into the water. Screaming as loud as she could and as long as she could until the water entered her mouth, tasting like fish and grass. When her head broke the surface, she saw that her cousins had set the canoe down and were laughing and clapping. Elyse knew that they’d spend the day on the water not talking about Landon, Daphne, or the wedding and they’d only go to the wedding if Lizzie and Isobel believed that Elyse would be okay. At that moment, she wasn’t sure she would be, but at the edges of her brain, she felt buoyant, like a cork. All her extra fat was keeping her afloat and it would continue to keep her afloat throughout the difficulty of seeing her sister married to the man Elyse had always loved.
Daphne and Landon were married without incident and the day after the wedding, the Triplins found themselves at the airport once again with Anna, whose flight left at about the same time as theirs. Elyse’s shoulders and face had burned something terrible during the day they’d spent in the canoe, and her skin had started to peel that morning. She’d felt it slough off in the shower and now, waiting in line to be ushered through security, she couldn’t keep herself from using her nails to peel long strands of skin from her shoulders.
The line was incredibly long, and Elyse had begun to worry about how well Anna would hold up. She appeared fine, not even leaning on Lizzie, although her cousin’s arm was around her in case she did falter. A security employee tapped Elyse on the shoulder, and she winced. “We can take you through the pilots’ line,” she said, indicating Anna. “That’s not a woman who should be standing.”
“I’m older than I look,” Anna said, handing her license over for inspection. The security officer waved his blue light over her California license to make sure the document wasn’t fraudulent and then did a double take at the birthday. “You don’t drive, do you?”
“I passed the test,” Anna said, smiling at the man’s discomfort. She patted his arm. “Don’t worry, I only drive in Kidron, and even then I only make right turns.”
Even though their gates were in different parts of the airport, the Triplins waited with Anna. Once they’d seated her in the chairs, she’d started to tell them stories—one after the other about her childhood, about her trip to Australia to try to find her real mother, about a turtle. There seemed to be no pattern to her stories, and the only connection between the events was Anna herself. Gratitude for her great-great-grandmother overwhelmed Elyse. It didn’t seem possible that life could be so long or so chock-full of so many stories. Her cousins’ body language indicated that they were less compelled by Anna’s stories. Isobel had her phone out and was typing an e-mail—she responded to Anna with an occasional “uh-huh,” or an “isn’t that right?” Lizzie appeared to listen to Anna, but her face kept a skeptical expression—as if someone had just given her a million dollars and she was examining the gift for any attached strings.
Anna paused to drink some of the water Lizzie offered.
“Are you going to live forever?” Elyse asked.
“I’ve stopped thinking about it,” Anna said. A dribble of water escaped the bottle and fell onto her shirt. “I wake up every day excited to consider what comes next. For me, for my grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and the lot of you. What is it you are?”
“Great great grandchildren, I think,” Elyse said
“Who even knows what forever is,” Lizzie said. “I mean one hundred seventeen years sort of seems like forever.”
“At least until you’re that old,” Anna said, laughing so hard that she doubled over.
Lizzie laughed, and Isobel set aside her phone to ask what was so funny.
“I wish we really were related,” Lizzie said. “They say it’s all in the genes and I wouldn’t mind living to see what changes over a hundred years.”
“Blood matters far less than you think,” Anna said. “Besides, you are all my Elizabeths.”
“No, that’s just me,” Lizzie said. “Although I never use my full name. My mom said she named me after the queens of England before she even met my stepdad and found out it was a family name.”
“Is that so?” Anna asked, in a tone that hinted at all the knowledge she had that the Triplins couldn’t pos
sibly appreciate.
“But I’m honored, I mean, if you associate the name with your daughter,” Lizzie said.
Elyse listened as her cousin continued to fumble around trying to find the right words to lessen the sting of what she’d said. A few years earlier, Anna’s daughter had drowned after following her husband into the Sacramento River.
Nearing tears, Lizzie finally got more words out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. From what Grandpa Matthew and Jim say, Bets was an extraordinary woman. She died trying to save her husband.”
“She died because she was tired of living,” Anna said, her mouth compressing into a thin line.
“I’m sorry,” Lizzie said again, her voice cracking. “I don’t even know who my father is, and sometimes I say the wrong thing because my family is such a mystery to me.”
“No matter, no matter,” Anna said. “Not that any of you realize this, but you’re all named Elizabeth. Same name, different forms. There’s only a handful of names and most of them are from the Bible. We used to have to read it in school. There wasn’t much else and now whether you believe in it or not, you ought to at least know where your name comes from.”
Elyse said their names aloud, sounding out the vowels and trying to make them sound alike. She didn’t hear it.
“I hear it,” Lizzie said.
Elyse thought she was eager to make up for her earlier gaffe.
“Doesn’t matter, they’re all the same. Just like Anna is Hannah. So, now I’ve given you a gift, makes you even more like triplets, huh?”
“You don’t think our parents did it on purpose?” Isobel asked. “I mean did they know they were naming us after Elizabeth? After each other?”
“Must have been an accident,” Lizzie said. “Not like we share the same blood.”
“There’s no accidents in this world,” Anna said. “You, my dear, were always meant to be in this family. Isn’t that what we take away from weddings? The ability to create relations in ways other than by blood?”
Elyse turned away at the mention of the wedding. She couldn’t stand to listen to any small talk about how lovely the bride had been, or how happy the couple had seemed. The wedding had felt like a funeral and instead of facing her grief and starting the mourning process, she pretended it hadn’t happened. During the whole ceremony, she’d focused her attention on the fact that the bridesmaid dress fit her perfectly despite her mother’s concerns. At this point she was still so raw that make-believe was the only salve for the stabbing pain inside of her. It wasn’t fair that such intense pain didn’t leave behind any evidence.
Anna stretched out her hand and patted Elyse’s knee as if trying to draw her back into the conversation. “Just remember how very long life can be and how very unexpected.”
The counter attendants called for passengers who needed assistance to board the plane. Anna shouldered her purse and stood, as steady as anyone. Elyse was embarrassed to think that when she’d first arrived, she’d thought the woman would need a wheelchair. There were whispers around them as Anna bid each of the Triplins goodbye. It appeared that Anna’s notoriety had traveled from the security line to the gate. The flight attendant held out her hand to Anna, telling her that they’d upgraded her to first class, but only if she promised to tell them what it had been like to be born into a world without airplanes. Anna smiled as if such indulgences were commonplace.
August 2012: Memphis
Two events conspired to keep the Triplins from falling into their old patterns when they returned to Memphis. The first had to do with Spite House and the second with Isobel. Benny met them, hat again in hand, on the front porch. Looking around, Elyse saw that the yard, which had been the only finished part of the house, now looked as if a prehistoric gopher had burrowed through it. As had been the case since the work on the house had moved indoors, it was Isobel who strode to meet Benny. Lizzie and Elyse hung back, each wincing at every word that came out of Benny’s mouth—especially “no plumbing,” which caused Lizzie to sit down on her suitcase and put her head in her hands.
“There’s no money,” Lizzie said to Elyse. “I used all Grandma Mellie had left after the initial bid on the asbestos.”
Hearing the fear and desperation in her cousin’s voice snapped Elyse out of the pity party she’d been throwing since tossing rice at her sister and Landon as they ran to his motorcycle and literally rode off into the sunset. She knelt in front of her cousin, taking her hands as if they were praying together. “It’s going to be fine. You don’t even know how bad the problems are, and I’m sure your parents can come up with a few thousand more to cover this last bit of work.”
Benny walked by them, his chin tucked into his chest, his birthmark purple next to his reddened neck. “See ya tomorrow,” he said.
Isobel stepped off the porch and told them to hurry up out of the heat.
“Is it bad?” Lizzie asked. “Tell me how bad it is.”
“Not in this heat,” Isobel said.
They trudged inside the house, which for the first time all summer offered relief from the heat. As part of the asbestos removal, they’d had new insulation installed and sealed the gaps that had been letting the hot air run through the house as if it were a slatted fence. Lizzie took her hair down; it fell so that it half hid her face.
“She’s worried about money,” Elyse said. Of the three of them, Isobel was the only one without money problems. She hoped that by putting it out in front, her cousin would volunteer to help out, seeing as how they’d all been living there rent-free for the better part of seven months.
“Don’t be,” Isobel said as she bent over her carry-on bag and searched its numerous zippered pockets. “I think I’ve got that about figured out.” She pulled her phone out of the last one she searched and tapped a few buttons before handing it to Lizzie. “I got this a few days ago, but I wanted to sit on it, you know. Think about it.”
“What is it?” Elyse asked, trying to read over her cousin’s shoulder.
“An offer to do a show,” Isobel said.
“About Spite House?” Lizzie asked, moving her fingers to enlarge the type on the e-mail and then passing it to Elyse.
She half listened to them, reading through the e-mail from Isobel’s agent. Although the Where Are They Now? special hadn’t yet aired, the reaction to Isobel’s segment had generated enough excitement for the producer to want to film a sizzle reel of Isobel at Spite House. Isobel explained to them that the idea was to capture highlights of a potential reality show to entice networks to pay for a pilot or even green-light an entire show.
“The money they’ll pay us to let them use the house will cover the rest of the repairs,” Isobel said, her voice rising with excitement. “But it could also lead to so much more.”
Elyse, having lost so much more, immediately thought how dangerous it could be to want something too much. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she said, handing back the phone. “There’s no mention of future projects, and you still haven’t told us what Benny said about the house.”
“Like I said, the fees should cover it,” her voice lowered almost as if she were a child admitting a mistake. “There’s no plumbing. It’ll take most of the month to fix it.”
“No plumbing?” Elyse asked, trying to think how that was possible.
“Pipes were in bad shape and emptying into the front yard instead of the sewer.”
“Where are we going to live?” Lizzie asked. “That’s going to cost something on top of the repairs.”
Isobel coughed and looked away from them. “If we don’t live here, we’ll violate the terms of the TPO. The second one was set up with a default clause. That is, if we move out of the house for any reason, it will be considered to be abandonment. If we leave now, coming on the heels of having been gone for the wedding, then . . .”
Nobody seemed to know what to say. Elyse had never planned on coming back to Spite House and now she had no other place to go. She wondered what her cousins were thinking. Liz
zie broke the silence by picking up her suitcase and walking into the house. “You don’t have to stay,” she said. “I’ll make it work—shower at the community center and what not.”
Isobel turned to Elyse. “Are you going to stay? I wasn’t sure you were even before all of this.” She lifted her arm to indicate the house. “Did we do the right thing?”
“I don’t know yet,” Elyse said, not knowing which question she was answering.
“Lizzie isn’t doing well,” Isobel said.
“Are any of us?” Elyse walked past her into the house, leaving her suitcase on the front porch where Benny had carried it.
“I’m grand,” Isobel called after her, laughing.
The sound of her cousin’s amusement had the effect of lightening Elyse’s step, and for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt like it all might turn out in the end.
When Landon called Elyse, she was at the hospital with Lizzie. The day before the United States played Japan in the final match of the Olympics, Lizzie had arthroscopic surgery to remove a stubborn bit of scar tissue near her hamstring. The cousins had joined her for the procedure and Elyse, against her cousin’s wishes, had promised to keep her family informed of her progress by sending them texts as the surgery progressed.
“She’ll be fine after this?” Isobel asked the surgeon.
“Hard to say,” the woman had said, looking over their heads at a nurse and then motioning that she needed her. “I imagine so, as long as she’s mobile.”
“We’ve been over this,” Isobel said, carrying a large box in both her arms. “She’ll be in therapy twice a day if needed.”
Elyse took the box, which contained more of Lizzie’s mother’s journal entries. “I know we’ve been over it. There are to be no more stunts of self-pity.”
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