Twenty-Five Years Ago Today (3 page)

Kris raised a skeptical brow. The question
had flown off her sister's tongue too easily. "I get by with
naps."

"You should avoid napping. It's important to
establish a regular pattern at night." Holly spoke in her Dr.
Know-It-All voice. She worked in the hospital where their physician
mother oversaw the Women's Pavilion. Holly, also a MD, rode the
helicopter to the site of bad accidents and stabilized victims
until they reached the medical center. During transport situations
from one facility to another, she went along in case of
emergency.

In other words, that qualified her as an
expert on every medical issue. Gritting her teeth, Kris scanned the
list of specials. "A pattern is no good when you keep waking
up."

"Have you cut down on caffeine?"

"Eliminated it."

"You don't exercise right before bed, do
you?"

"I work out in the afternoon."

"How about warm milk?"

Kris rolled her eyes. "Try wine. Sometimes I
even kick back with a few beers. Why don't you report that to Mom?
She sent you to pump me, didn't she?"

Blushing, Holly opened her menu and feigned
interest in the selections. "I'm worried your new job will make
sleeping harder. You must be wired when you get home. You're not
taking sleeping pills again, are you?"

Ah, the underlying reason for the
inquisition. Kris clenched a wadded napkin in her lap. Her senior
year in college, she'd abused sleeping medication. Once the pills
stopped working, she weaned herself off them. Occasionally she
experimented, but the medication lost its effectiveness after a
month.

"Not in a long time," she said. "They're
useless."

Holly shot her a glance over the menu. "Mom's
put you through every medical test and they've come out fine. Maybe
you should see a therapist. It must be some type of anxiety
disorder."

"Look, Holly, I don't need a counselor. All I
needed was to work different hours. Thanks for your concern, but
I've got everything under control." Kris appreciated the change in
topic as the freckled teenage waitress arrived with a notepad.

Holly ordered a fruit cup and bagel without
cream cheese. Kris pointed to the Lumberjack Special. "This comes
with pancakes, bacon and eggs, right?"

Her sister’s eyes bulged. "You’re not really
getting that, are you? Do you know how unhealthy that is?"

"Yeah, I may as well go all out. Could I have
a side of hash browns, too? Thanks." Kris handed the menu to the
waitress. Her sister would be salivating in the ER all afternoon.
Despite her rabbit food dieting, Holly liked bacon and eggs as much
as the common folk.

Shaking her head, Holly poured a packet of
Sweet ‘N Low into her coffee. "Anyway, Mom wants us both to come
for dinner tomorrow. You'll have guaranteed entertainment. R.J. and
I got our wedding albums back two days ago, and she's already
bugging us about grandchildren."

"If she wanted to invite me, why didn't she
ask me herself?"

"She was busy and knew I'd see you."

Yeah, right. Kris tightened her grip around
her glass. Her mother was avoiding her. What else was new? "It’s
pretty short notice, isn’t it?"

Holly sipped from her steaming mug. "You
don’t have a boyfriend. I guess she assumed you wouldn’t have
plans. You need a man, Kris."

"Huh?"

"You're twenty-six years old. You spend too
much time alone. No wonder you're depressed."

"I'm
not
depressed," Kris said. "I
like my privacy."

"I'll say. You withdrew from your friends in
high school. You spent college in the library. I thought moving to
New York would be good for you, but you must've been a loner there,
too. You've never mentioned anyone."

"Just because you drone about yourself
doesn't mean we're all that way."

Holly flushed as the waitress delivered their
orders. She glared into her miniscule fruit cup and sneaked a
longing look at the Lumberjack Special.

Suppressing a smirk, Kris drizzled maple
syrup over her mound of golden brown pancakes. She gestured to her
crisp bacon strips as a peace offering. "Want some? I can’t eat all
this."

"See, I knew you shouldn’t have ordered
that." Holly grabbed two pieces and crunched one between her
teeth.

"Listen, I'm sorry for snapping at you
before," Kris said. "You were just pushing me too hard. If you want
me to open up, ask me about my job. I love it."

"You love writing obits?" A smile hovered on
Holly's lips. Kris hoped it was a bacon high and not amusement over
her career choice.

"I do other things, like researching stories
on the microfilm. Yesterday, I came across a twenty-five-year-old
unsolved murder. A girl was found dead in the woods near Fremont
State and they never caught her killer. She was twenty-one."

"No offense, but that sounds as depressing as
obituaries. That reminds me, I heard from Aunt Susan the other
night. She sounded lonely."

Frowning, Kris sliced into a pancake. She
called Aunt Susan a few times per year and sent gifts for holidays.
Her aunt never made the first move herself. Kris figured she
probably didn’t want to be a burden. Why was she contacting
Holly?

"She adopted another stray cat," Holly went
on. "What is it now? Six? Seven?"

"Maybe she needs someone to take care of,"
Kris said.

Aunt Susan couldn't resist the skinny felines
that wandered to her front step as if the scent of tuna had left a
permanent imprint. Kris, too, liked having a furry companion
snuggle on her bed. She had adopted a stray cat after moving into
her new apartment. Her aunt, though, took it to the extreme.

"Yeah, but seven meowing someones?" Holly
asked. "This one is even worse. She says it looks like Marmalade.
Isn't that spooky?"

"If you were in Aunt Susan's boat, you might
have a tough time adjusting, too. Nicole was her world."

"It's been fourteen years since Nicole died.
Uncle Neal got on with his life. Aunt Susan should, too. I wish she
and Mom would start talking again. They didn't even acknowledge
each other at my wedding."

"You know Mom," Kris said. "She's
judgmental."

"Aunt Susan's stubborn."

Holly moved onto another subject, her new
home. Kris didn't bring up Nicole again. Maybe the dead had it
easy. It was the living who went through hell.

***

Kris trudged down the hallway of her rambling
19th century apartment building. The Greek Revival-style house
boasted a gabled roofline, wide columns fronting the porch and
elongated windows. She unlocked her door, and Chipmunk scurried
through the living room, a chocolate blur with a thick swishing
tail. He spent most days shedding over the carpet and batting
Tender Vittles across the kitchen floor, but Kris didn't mind. She
liked the warm welcome. She could have used a cat in New York.

She carried the purring Chipmunk into her
bedroom and sprawled onto the quilt for a nap. The room satisfied
her eyes, filled with the furniture of her childhood, knickknacks
and books.

Kris gazed at the silver-framed picture of
Nicole on her bureau. Flaxen braids pressed against her cousin's
ears, freckles dotted her cheeks. Nicole hadn't taken off her
horn-rimmed glasses as she usually did for photos. How she'd hated
those glasses, thick wide ones she insisted made her look like an
owl.

Born three months apart, Kris and Nicole had
grown up in the same neighborhood. Kris tried picturing the happy
times, like kindergarten. She'd been shy back then and would
whisper in Nicole's ear. Another cookie, more crayons, whatever she
wanted, she counted on Nicole to be her voice.

After school, Aunt Susan would fix snacks as
Kris, Holly and Nicole entertained themselves. They'd space kitchen
chairs into rows and play Airline. Holly took the pilot seat while
Kris and Nicole served each other baggies of peanuts.

Unbidden, the memories were replaced with the
image of Nicole in her beige crepe casket, high-necked blue velvet
dress covering the rope grooves.

Kris had stared at the mahogany coffin, numb,
afraid there might have been a mistake. What if Nicole wasn't dead,
but in a deep sleep. What if she were buried alive? Kris had stood
against the Pepto-Bismol pink wall of the funeral home, praying
Nicole would sit up in the casket. She promised God that she'd be a
good person if only Nicole would awaken.

Her head had fogged at the sickly sweet
perfume of orchids. Nicole would have hated the cloying scent. She
couldn't pass a flower garden without triggering her allergies. Her
nose would twitch and she'd give three muffled sneezes, quiet as a
kitten.

But Nicole didn't sneeze. Allergies would
never bother her again.

Kris had run out of the funeral parlor and
hugged her knees on the front step. Her mother followed and crossed
her arms over her black dress. "I told you not to come. I went to
my mother's wake when I was four, and it was no place for a
child."

Holly had stayed home for the calling hours.
Kris begged her father to attend, and he convinced her mother. She
needed to tell Nicole goodbye in person, to apologize for the
secret she could never reveal, not even to her parents.

Kris shivered. The memory rolled toward her
like an icy wave, numbing her insides. She couldn't hold it back.
She could never hold it back.

***

Kris looked up at the gray stormclouds,
hoping she and Nicole would make it home before the rain. The last
bus pulled out of the school parking lot and disappeared around the
corner.

It would've been nice if she and Nicole lived
on the bus route, but they had to walk three blocks, except for the
times Aunt Susan took pity and played chauffeur in her station
wagon. Aunt Susan had gone out with a friend, leaving her and
Nicole to fend for themselves.

Meredith Ames crossed the road in her denim
jacket and miniskirt. She sidled up to them on the sidewalk, her
auburn curls bobbing. "Hi, Nikki."

Her Texas drawl reminded Kris of melted
butter, smooth, the kind of voice that never stammered. Kris
scuffed her sneakers in the dirt. She never knew what to say around
Meredith, the most popular girl in seventh grade. Meredith had
moved to town six months ago.

Beaming, Nicole shifted her bookbag to her
other shoulder. "Hi, Meredith."

"I'm having a birthday party next Friday
night. My mom's letting me have boys over. Can you come?"

Nicole's big hazel eyes magnified behind her
glasses. "I'd love to. Thanks."

Kris's breathing quickened. Nicole must have
forgotten the plan for next Friday, Chinese food with their
parents, then a movie. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out,
her tongue dry as sandpaper.

"Cool," Meredith said. "Donnie Hastings will
be there."

"Donnie Hastings? He's cute."

"I know. I'm gonna play music so we can
dance." Meredith examined the braids that fell to Nicole's
shoulders. "The girls are sleeping over afterwards. Could I curl
your hair? I'll bet it would look good."

"That'd be great. I'm tired of braids."

Meredith clapped. "A makeover. How fun." She
turned to Kris. "You're invited to my party, too."

Heat rushed to Kris's face. She couldn't
dance with boys. She’d look like a female Pinocchio bouncing around
with her strings pulled.

"I ... I can't make it," Kris mumbled.

"Oh, that's too bad. Well, I've got to get
home, y'all. See you, Nicole." Meredith strolled in the opposite
direction.

Nicole waited until she was out of earshot,
then placed her hands on her hips. "Meredith must think you're a
snob. Why would you say no?"

Kris stepped back, startled by her cousin's
bitterness. "She didn’t seem upset."

"Then you’re lucky. You didn't even give her
an excuse. You could've thanked her for the invitation."

"I'm sorry. I froze. But you know I can't go
to a party with dancing and boys."

"We can't play 'Pin the Tail on the Donkey'
forever. We're gonna be in eighth grade next year."

"What about the movies next Friday?"

Nicole rolled her eyes. "We can go out with
our parents anytime. Why can't you be more like Holly? She says I
shouldn't feel guilty about wanting to do my own thing, and that
you and I don't always have to be together."

They had talked about her? Holly and Nicole?
Kris's ears burned. She'd noticed her sister and cousin hanging
around more often.

"Yeah, well, Holly told me that she feels
sorry for you." Kris blurted out the words before she could stop
herself. "She feels bad that you have to wear ugly glasses and that
your mother makes you wear stupid braids, like a mountain
girl."

"You're making that up. Holly and I are
friends. We might go roller skating with Nancy and Shannon
Welles."

Nancy was Holly's best friend. Her younger
sister, Shannon, was in Kris's grade and belonged to the "in
crowd."

"She's with Nancy and Shannon right now,"
Kris said. "They walked to Ice Cream Cove after school. If you guys
are so close, why don't you go?"

"I can't just show up. Holly didn't invite
me."

"If you're as chummy as you say, she'll be
happy to see you."

"But it's gonna rain," Nicole said.

Relief flooded over Kris. Good, Nicole
wouldn't accept the challenge. What was she thinking, making up
that story? Holly and Nancy were at the library, researching a
science project. It would be mean to have Nicole sit at Ice Cream
Cove, waiting for them. Still, she couldn’t resist saying, "Fine,
chicken out."

"I'm not chickening out. I'm going."

"What?"

"I'll prove Holly doesn't think I'm a stupid
kid. If my mom's looking for me, tell her where I went."

Nicole strode down the sidewalk.

Kris hesitated.

Her cousin would be okay. Nicole would walk a
half-mile, order a chocolate cone, then call her mother for a ride.
Aunt Susan would be home by then. Maybe Kris could worm her way out
of it, pretend she had misunderstood Holly's plans.