***
“Ari! You made it!” Banks, my little sister, shrieked as I pulled into the driveway of our massive farm house that sits on several acres of uncultivated farm land. Mama fell in love with the house and had to have it.
“Hey B,” I waved out the window. I climbed out of my Jeep, swinging a bag over my shoulder.
“Gracious Arizona, could you stop walking around like a trucker?” she smiled as I cam closer to the front step. “Hey baby girl. Welcome home. I’ll get your brother to grab your bags.”
Our Mama named me after the great state of Arizona, where I was born in a windstorm. Banks got saddled with Mama’s maiden name. Being only six, she hadn’t learned to hate her name yet. She wandered back into the house clutching a doll.
“I can get them, Mama.”
“No, no, no. Russ will get them. C’mon, I want to show you your surprise,” she said, leading the way into the foyer. The smell of artificial cinnamon and carpet cleaning powder hit me in the face once I crossed the threshold, both of which my Mama is obsessed with.
Russ was lounged on a sofa in the den at the back of the house, the television blaring the sounds of Tennessee football, “Rocky Top” blaring from the speakers. Russ waved without turning around. Russ and I always had an interesting relationship. He’s not really my brother, or even related to me at all. Had he been my mother’s son, he would have had a name like Pierre or Cobra. Our parents met and got together when we went to the same high school.
In fact, he took me to junior prom and I lost my virginity to him that night. Russ is a really good-looking guy, broad shoulders, dark hair, dark eyes. His wild streak turned girls on in our little town, and I thought that’s what I wanted. He drove a motorcycle and worked on cars in high school; I assume he’s doing more of the same in his mid-twenties. I have only seen him the few times I made the trek home for holidays in the last six years, a rarity because of school, work, and the ex-fiance.
“I put you in your old room, but I fancied it up for you,” Mama said, still leading the way. She babbled on about paint choices and duvet covers as we made our way up the second staircase. Swinging the door open with a smirk, she threw her arm out like Vanna White. My neon pink wall where I had displayed all my high school memories was painted over with a nice eggshell paint that upon closer inspection proved to have light gold stenciled designs painted on them. She had always hated that wall, said that the daughter of an interior designer needed better taste. She finally conceded to keeping it after I claimed it expressed my innate individuality. I only did it to make her angry during my senior year in high school, hoping to make her as angry as she made me.
The ceiling was pitched to make a cozy feeling room. It was also the furthest room from anyone and anything, which is why I picked it when we moved in my junior year. She had replaced my bed too. Gone was the twin bed covered in floral print; it was replaced with a queen bed covered in a white bedspread with gold trim and tons of throw pillows in navy, gold, and royal purple. It was beautiful, and something I never would’ve picked for myself, with all those throw pillows to put back on the bed everyday. Not a detail was missing from curtains to carpet.
I had paused for too long.
“You don’t like it?” Mama asked.
“It’s beautiful,” I answered placatingly. “It looks like magazine spread.”
My mother beamed. “It is, honey! It’ll be in House and Gardens next month! Well, I will let you get settled. I’m ordering Indian for dinner. Do you still like the coconut curry?”
I nodded and she made her way out the door. I threw myself onto the perfect bed making all the pillows go flying as tears rolled down my face.
A small knock tapped on the door. Swiping at my face, I yelled “Come in.” I was still laying in the mass of pillows when the door opened and Banks walked in carrying her doll. She climbed into the lofted bed with me a cuddled in close, kissing my tears before she closed her eyes and wrapping her arms around me. I slept soundly then for the first time in weeks.
***
Banks was gone when I woke up in the morning to the sound of an engine roar. Fully clothed, someone had removed my shoes and wrapped me in a blanket. I was starting to sweat as the sun hit me from the windows.
Flipping the blanket off, I went in search of more clothes. The ones I had on were stained with bad voodoo, not how I wanted to start my phase. All my bags and boxes were in my room, stacked neatly in the corner. I’d have to remember to thank Russ when I saw him.
Striping down to naked and leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor, I walked into the attached bathroom and flipping on the water. A shower was just what I needed to push the restart button on my life. I washed my hair with more diligence than was necessary, letting the lather run over my breasts and back in rivulets.
Hungry, I realized, as my stomach rumbled. After the water started getting cold, I jumped out and wrapped a towel around my body and walked back into my room to rummage through my boxes. He was there, sitting on my bed.
“Good morning, sis,” Russ grinned, not bothering to look away.
“Wha-? Gah - what are you doing?”
“It’s my room Russ.”
“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he joked sardonically, then a serious look washed over his face. “Ari, I just wanted to check on you.”
“Well, you checked. Now leave me alone.”
He stood up and walked over to me, towering over my small five-foot-two frame, and stared into my eyes. “I’ll kill him,” he said, dead-pan serious.
“No need.”
“Why? You do it yourself?”
“Of course not,” I answered. “But karma’s a bitch.”
He snorted. His arms went around me and I stiffened and grabbed at my towel. Too close. Much too close. He picked up on my cold response and let me go.
“Okay, Ari. I get it. Let me know when you want to talk about it... or for me to kill him.” He kissed my forehead and strode out without a backward glance.
The smells of coffee and and bacon wrapped their way around me, and I realized that Russ brought me a plate of breakfast.
Everyone needs to stop being nice.
