Twist of Fate

by Sheri L. Brown

  Claire sat down on the couch. She hadn’t even begun to search for Jesus with the key underneath Him. She wondered why Zia wasn’t saying anything about it to her. Claire sat and waited. Still nothing. Rachel returned to the living room a few minutes later as Claire sat, waiting in silence for an answer or a sign.

  “Okay, I have a jeweler coming to your mother’s house tomorrow. Somebody needs to see this thing.”

  Claire thought about it. They had the wake tomorrow night and the funeral the next day. There was a small window of time to make this happen. She thought it was a little crazy, but if the cross had any significant value Claire was sure Zia wouldn’t want it to be buried in the ground with her.

  “You have a local jeweler in town, seriously?” Claire asked.

  “Oh, honey, don’t be silly, my jeweler in the city has connections all over the place. But I have to tell you, I’ve met this woman before when I’ve been with my regular guy in the diamond district. She knows her stuff and she happens to have a second house up here in the country.”

  Claire started looking around the room hastily, trying to find another cross to bury with Zia if need be, ignoring Rachel’s comment about being in the country. She sometimes couldn’t decipher whether Rachel was condescending or if she really believed anything outside of Manhattan was ‘the country’. Claire found a cross leaning against the wall in the living room. It sat high on a shelf and was positioned so far back Claire had almost missed it. It wasn’t nearly as beautiful as the diamond and emerald cross, but it still was a crucifix that Zia had acquired at some point from an auction or fundraiser.

  “Well, now, that cross is just as appropriate for someone to be buried with, don’t you think, Claire?”

  “I suppose. It doesn’t feel right, though, I don’t know Rachel.”

  “Well, let’s bring both of them to the house and ask your mother what she thinks.”

  Rachel wrapped both crosses in some tissues and tucked them safely into her purse.

  “I should look for her rosary. She’d want to be buried with her rosary no matter what.”

  “Well, why don’t you find it and we’ll go. It’s almost time for dinner and I know your mother wants to spend some time with us.”

  “Um, I can’t leave yet,” Claire sighed.

  Claire motioned for Rachel to sit down on the couch and told her the entire story about Candy and the Jesus statue and the mysterious key that may or may not exist. Rachel sat and listened without saying a word.

  “Why did you wait to tell me about this, Claire?”

  “I didn’t think you’d believe me, I guess. I was hoping to find the statue and the key and be done with it without making too much of a big deal.”

  “Well, I don’t know this Candy person, but I certainly trust your judgment, you always had your own tendencies… and it seems as Zia is talking to you now, so.”

  “I didn’t realize you knew about that, Rachel. Mom told you about my tendencies? Funny.” Claire said half stunned.

  “Well, your mother was kind of tight-lipped about things when she was raising you girls, but she would occasionally mention the stories you would tell about your ‘vacations’ with Zia,” Rachel chuckled.

  Claire had forgotten about the specific stories she used to tell. She was sure the trips and experiences she had had with Zia were real, but she couldn’t be sure to which lifetime she might have been referring. So much time had gone by since she was an unabashed, outspoken-about-all-things ethereal, little girl. She wondered when conforming became the best option in her young life.

  “Hm,” Claire thought for a moment, “I didn’t realize you and Mom weren’t always that close and I definitely didn’t think she’d mention my stories of all things… my special vacations as you say, with Zia. I stopped talking about them so many years ago and although I do remember telling them, I mostly now remember that I….”

  Claire’s voice trailed off. Rachel could see her eyes welling up again with tears.

  “Honey, I know you’ve been around the proverbial block in another time and I have no doubt you’ve had past lives with your Great Aunt.”

  Rachel wrapped her arms around Claire and kissed the side of her face. She gently wiped the tears from Claire’s cheeks with the corner of the Hermes scarf tied around her neck. Claire was surprised at Rachel’s demonstrative level of empathy toward her. It felt especially nice to be comforted by someone who didn’t have that warm and fuzzy reputation.

  “How come you’re so cool and nice and I never knew it?” Claire asked as she pulled herself back together.

  “Well, your mother didn’t see me much when she was younger. I was working my way up professionally, you know. She went to private school, then eventually boarding school and by that time she and your grandfather were as thick as thieves. I really lost out on getting close to her. I think maybe I’ve only become cool and nice over the last few years.”

  Claire could hear a twinge of regret in Rachel’s voice as it quivered.

  “So,” Rachel continued, “I really have had an exciting life and a great career, but your mother and I… well, let’s just say I’m hoping I can make up for lost time. I think she’s coming around and I think she knows I’m trying to be a better mother... and grandmother to you girls.”

  “God, so maybe she chose the opposite life from you… just to rebel or something.”

  “Maybe, but you know Claire, some women were meant to be mothers and I think this is the case with yours. But the best part now for you and your sisters, of course, is women really can choose what they want for themselves…. have babies, don’t have babies, stay at home or go to work… or have an adventure.”

  Claire thought about what Rachel was saying, “But Mom gave up her life and a career for us and it seems… I don’t know, less respected. I wonder if she ever feels bad about it or insecure. All of my friends’ moms work and some of them have really amazing jobs.”

  “Oh, honey, tell me when you think about your childhood, what did your mother ever miss with you and your sisters?”

  Claire thought about it, “Nothing. She missed nothing. She was always there.”

  “It’s incredibly noble, isn’t it? What a noble profession, motherhood. We all make choices and have to live with them… I admire her, your mother, for hers. What a truly selfless, grand gesture on her part, huh? What she chose benefitted you… I will always have to live wondering whether I did the right thing or if I ever did enough for her….”

  Claire wrapped her arms around Rachel and squeezed her tight, “Well, you’re really helping me, Rachel, helping me to mourn Zia... helping me to understand my mother and myself better… helping me to have a bigger view of things. I’m so glad we found each other in a totally different way than when I was a kid. I really love you.”

  Rachel was touched and actually allowed a couple of tears to fall on her cheek. She hadn’t anticipated connecting with Claire and she was thrilled.

  “Okay, let’s go find a set of rosary beads and the psychic key,” Rachel said as she got up from the couch.

  Claire knew the rosary beads would be in the jewelry box on Zia’s dresser, so she went and grabbed those first. The silk bag Zia used to store them sat next to the beads. Claire picked them up and kissed the beads before placing them in the bag. Claire waited to hear Zia’s voice, but it didn’t come. She held the bag of beads close to her heart and said a single Hail Mary. If she weren’t in such a state of mourning she would have thought about how eloquent and dramatic her solitary prayer was. Her enunciation and rhythm could have easily been a part of an independent film. She sighed, feeling embarrassed, certain Zia could now read her every thought from the other side.

  As Claire passed through the doorway she heard a crash, followed by a scream. It was coming from the back bedroom and it was definitely Rachel. Claire ran toward the back of the house and through the doorway. Rachel was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding her heart.

  “Oh my God, Rachel, what happene
d? Are you okay?”

  Rachel took a deep breath and began babbling, “In all my years, my entire life being in New York, I’ve lived entirely unscathed by indigents. How in the world does this happen in the country? I’m glad you’re moving in with me, the city is safer.”

  Claire wanted to laugh, but decided her timing would be disastrous. She knew now where she inherited her histrionic side.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “A man came up to the back window when I was looking for Jesus. He knocked and I panicked, so I pulled this old crutch out of the closet and raised it at him. He tried to bust open the window while he made strange gesture with his hands, so I swung the crutch and knocked the lamp over. I hope it wasn’t valuable.”

  “Where’s the guy?”

  “I think he took off.”

  Claire opened the front window curtain facing the road and noticed a small truck outside, “Rachel, I think we’re okay, but you probably scared the hell out of the landscaper guy. I’m going to go grab a bag to pick up broken lamp pieces.”

  Claire returned to find Rachel still sitting on the bed. She crouched down and started grabbing the biggest pieces first. She inspected the floor carefully and noticed one large piece that had strayed from the others, sitting solitarily by a large antique bookcase. Claire reached to grab it and noticed something shiny in her peripheral vision. On the very bottom shelf, pushed all the way to the very back, was a statue of Jesus in an elaborate velvet robe adorned with small, shiny beads. Claire picked up the statue and reminisced briefly before turning it over. The bottom of the statue had old, brown tape pieces and sticky residue on it, but there was no key.

  “Damn,” Claire said.

  “Honey, what is it?”

  “I thought I found the statue with the key. I thought maybe Zia set it all up for you to come in here, frighten the gardener and cause enough of a ruckus that I’d get down and look on this shelf.”

  “Well, feel around, maybe it fell off.”

  The bookshelf was too dark and deep for Claire to see anything, so she stuck her hand inside of the cubby and felt around.

  “I found it! I found the key, Rachel! Can you believe it?”

  Claire jumped up and down happily waving the key in her hand.

  “Yay! This is great Claire, but what does it open?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sarah and Skylar had gone through boxes of photos for most of the afternoon and had chosen a few dozen to scan and turn into a slide show for Zia’s life celebration. Earl walked in the back door as Sarah and Skylar sat down for a quick cup of tea before dinner. He kissed Sarah on the lips and Skylar on the cheek and smiled.

  “It’s nice to have you back here young lady,” Earl said, ruffling Skylar’s hair.

  “Thanks, Dad, it’s good to be home.”

  “So, do you want to sort out the last couple of weeks with your Mom and me or is this something better handled with Mom only?”

  “I don’t know, Dad, I guess I made some bad choices and didn’t really care what anybody thought about it. I’m sorry.”

  Skylar felt like there was nothing left to say. If her parents wanted to lock her up in her room until she turned eighteen, they had the right to do that.

  Earl pulled out the chair next to Skylar at the table and sat down, “You need to know if Felicia were a twenty-four year old guy, he… she… whatever, would be in very big trouble with me. I just have to keep reminding myself that you’re going through something I don’t understand, but I’m trying, honey.”

  Sarah couldn’t help but get a little choked up with the way Earl was talking to his daughter. He was so sweet and empathetic, it was touching.

  “I know, Dad, I don’t understand it, either. I feel angry, alone, misplaced and abnormal. I don’t feel that way when I’m around Felicia.”

  “Well, then, we just have to do what it takes to support you until those feelings go away, but moving in with Felicia is not going to happen, dear.”

  Skylar slinked down in her chair and stared at her teacup. Sarah and Earl couldn’t have been any more understanding, yet she wanted to bolt out the door never to return. Clearly, she thought, she never wanted to leave home until Felicia turned up in her life. She couldn’t decipher what she thought about things and what Felicia thought she should think about things. And on top of it all, Skylar wondered what Claire had said about Felicia manipulating things, like leaving her cell phone behind and telling her mother she was leaving town, was true.

  “I’m just trying to figure out who I am,” Skylar said quietly.

  “Yes, honey, you and every other teenager. I know it’s different for you, but every kid has his or her own challenges. Don’t make us the enemy. We want you to be a happy and healthy, well-adjusted lesbian,” Earl said with a smile.

  Then he added, “Is that what you’re calling yourself these days?”

  Skylar had to chuckle. Her dad was trying so hard to make sense of the situation.

  “God, Dad, I don’t know. It’s all new to me, too. But I’ll let you know once I figure it out, whether I like lesbian or gay or… no label… you could just call me Skye, like always.”

  In that moment, Skylar thought about how much it mattered to her to be out. She wasn’t going to hide it, but she wasn’t sure if she needed to make a statement with her sexual identity. Maybe that’s what Felicia was pushing on her… her idea of what it meant to be out or express one’s sexuality. Skylar wanted to do it her way in her own time. She was finally relieved to have admitted to herself she wasn’t attracted to boys. It felt so good to be free in New York and express herself with another woman, but she had to start focusing on other things.

  Skylar Sinclair was more than just gay and she was ready to take on the world.

  Earl smiled and patted Skylar on the back the way he had done more than a thousand timed in her life, “Sounds good, sweetheart, I can do that. You know, your mother and I are here for you… and we want you to find yourself, but be smart about it.”

  “Don’t worry, Dad,” Skylar said, “this talk really helped and I think it’s time I pulled myself together. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting, sorry I made you worry.”

  Felicia knocked on the back door before entering the kitchen. She waited for Sarah to wave her in.

  “Hi, Sarah, how are you?” Felicia asked, somewhat subdued.

  “I’m better now that my daughter is home and safe.”

  Earl chimed in, “This is where I will take my leave and let Sarah talk over the details of the situation… unless you want me to stay.”

  Sarah waved her hand toward the door and smiled, “No, Earl, I think we’re good here. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Sarah tried to think of her best approach for dealing with Felicia. She thought Skylar seemed noticeably calmer and less angst-ridden since she came home, but Sarah wasn’t sure what might set her off. And she wasn’t sure how Felicia’s presence in the immediate situation would affect Skylar’s attitude. In many ways, Sarah thought the entire situation was bullshit and she really wanted to knock Felicia down a few pegs, but there would be nothing constructive about going in that direction. She had to trust that she had raised Skylar with enough sense to make the right decisions for herself. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about her getting pregnant.

  “So,” Felicia said, breaking the silence, “sorry about everything that’s happened… I really appreciate you inviting me up here for… I’m sorry, I can’t remember the name of your Aunt….”

  “Regina,” Sarah snapped, “Aunt Regina… but we all call her Zia.”

  “Oh, yeah, she’s Italian, that’s right,” Felicia said.

  “She was Italian,” Sarah smiled as she spoke. Skylar kicked Sarah’s leg under the table. She hoped Sarah could keep it together long enough to get through the next couple of days without too much drama. Because deep down, Skylar knew, the protective mother bear was on the verge of striking.

  “Oh, well, sorry for
your loss,” Felicia said.

  “Thank you,” Sarah said, detached.

  The sound of Claire’s heavy footsteps coming up the back stairs put Sarah at ease. She smiled thinking how she was going to miss that sound. For whatever reason, Claire was a heavy walker, deliberate in each step as though each one had distinct purpose. Sarah used to tease her about it when she was younger and tell her the whole world was going to hear her coming one day. Sarah welcomed a new conversation that would put her in a more compassionate space and she couldn’t wait to hear about the day over at Regina’s house.

  Sarah was trying hard to be open-minded about Felicia, but was having a particularly hard time. She couldn’t put her finger on it… but she thought it was mostly about the way Felicia had convinced Skylar that she and Earl were the enemy and she had stirred up something inside of Skylar’s normally sweet sensibility to be over reactive, accusatory and unkind. She had spent four pregnancies reading about developmental psychology, psycho-social development, and learning theories to be well-versed in recognizing what her daughters needed. She resented Felicia for manipulating Skylar into thinking she had to run away to find herself, solve her problems or work through her budding sexuality alone, without the help of her mother. And there wasn’t anything she could say. She wasn’t going to stir anything up; it simply would have made her look bad, even if she were right. Sarah couldn’t wait for Claire and Rachel to break the ice beginning to form in the kitchen.

  “Hey, everyone! We’re back!” Claire said as she stormed into the kitchen.

  Sarah got up from the table and gave Claire a hug, “So, you’re okay? How’d it go?”

  “Well,” Rachel said, “it went just fine, but we need to catch you up on the details of things. We should talk before tomorrow morning, honey.”

  “Um,” Skylar said, “Felicia and I want some alone time anyway. I’m going up to my room, if that’s alright.”

  “Sure, honey, think about what you want for dinner.”

  Sarah watched as Skylar and Felicia headed upstairs and listened for the bedroom door to shut. She sighed and put some water on the stove for tea and put her hand over her heart in an attempt to be certain her heart rate was beginning to stabilize. Sarah felt as though she kept her cool, but she had lingering doubts about the situation, Felicia and what Skylar’s move to New York would bring. She knew Skylar had a good head on her shoulders. Once she settled into her newfound identity, Sarah hoped she’d find a nice girl closer to her own age. In the meantime, she’d do her best to keep her antennae up.