“Mommy?” Alison said after a few seconds. Then, “Hi, Mommy. It’s me, Ali Kat.”
Smiling, Meg walked into the kitchen and began unpacking the bags of groceries and goodies she’d picked up today. Stuff she hadn’t bought in years—Frosted Flakes, Pop-Tarts, Oreo cookies—and stuff she’d never seen before, like juice that came in silver bags and mix-your-own yogurt. The most important purchase was an activity book for children. She intended to make this a week Alison wouldn’t forget.
“She wants to talk to you, Aunt Meg,” Alison said, bouncing into the kitchen.
“Thanks.” Meg took the phone, said, “Hello?”
“Hey, big sis, how’s it going? Has she stopped talking yet?”
Meg laughed. “Not even when she’s eating.”
“That’s my Ali.”
Alison tugged on Meg’s pant leg. “Mommy said the sand is like sugar. Sugar. Can I have some cookies?”
Meg handed her an Oreo. “Only one before bed,” she said to her niece. To Claire, she said, “I need a margarita.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“I know. It makes me think.…”
“What?” Claire asked softly.
“About us. You. Sometimes I look at Ali and all I can see is us.”
“Then, she’ll love you, Meg.”
Meg closed her eyes. It felt so good to talk to Claire this way, as true sisters who had something more than a sordid childhood in common. “She misses you.”
“Bedtime might be hard. You’ll need to read her a story.” Claire laughed. “I warn you, she has quite an attention span.”
“I’ll try Moby-Dick. You’d have to be on speed to stay awake for that.”
Alison grabbed her pant leg again. “I think I’m gonna be—” And she puked all over Meg’s shoes.
“I need to go, Claire. Have a great trip. We’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
She hung up the phone and set it on the counter.
Alison looked up at her, giggling. “Oops.”
“Maybe the double banana split was a bad idea.” She eased out of her shoes and scooped Alison into her arms and carried her to the bathroom.
Alison looked so tiny in the big marble tub.
“This is like a swimming pool,” she said, sucking up a mouthful of water and spitting it on the tile wall.
“Let’s not drink our own bathwater, shall we? It’s one of the things that separates us from the lesser primates. Like men.”
“Grandpa lets me.”
“My point exactly. Now come here, let me wash your hair.” She reached for the brand-new baby shampoo. The scent made her smile. “I used to wash your mom’s hair with this shampoo.”
“You’re getting it in my eyes.”
“That’s what she used to say.” Meghann was still smiling when she rinsed Alison’s hair and helped her out of the tub. She dried off the little girl, dressed her in pink flannel pajamas, and carried her into the guest room.
“It’s a big bed,” Alison said, frowning.
“That’s because it’s for princesses only.”
“Am I a princess?”
“You are.” Meghann curtsied. “Milady,” she said in a solemn voice. “What command have you for me?”
Alison giggled and climbed under the covers. “Read me a story. I want … Professor Wormbog in Search of the Zipperump-a-Zoo.”
Meg dug through the toys and books in the suitcase, found the right one, and started to read.
“You gotta be on the bed,” Alison said.
“Oh.” Meghann climbed onto the bed and settled in comfortably. Alison immediately snuggled in beside her, resting her cheek on the precious wubbie.
Meg started to read again.
An hour and six books later, Alison was finally asleep. Meg kissed her niece’s sweet pink cheek and left the room, careful to leave the door open.
Afraid to turn on the television or the stereo—she didn’t want to wake Alison—she tried to read a magazine. Within minutes she was falling asleep, so she padded into her bedroom, changed into her Seahawks nightshirt, brushed her teeth, and got into bed.
Closing her eyes, she thought of all the things she had to do tomorrow. There was no way she’d fall asleep tonight.
Woodland Park Zoo.
The BFG at the Children’s Theater.
GameWorks.
F.A.O. Schwarz.
Fun Forest at Seattle Center.
Her mind skipped from Fun Forest to National Forest to Hayden to Joe.
Joe.
He’d kissed her good-bye so gently on that last morning they were together. It had made her feel inexplicably vulnerable.
She wanted to see him. And not just for sex.
For what, then?
She’d chosen him in the first place for his unavailability. What had been his first words to her, or practically the first?
I won’t take you home with me.
Or something like that. Right off the bat he’d declared his unavailability.
And so she’d gone for him. But where could they go beyond the bedroom? He was a small-town mechanic who still cried over his divorce.
There was no future for them.
Still … when she closed her eyes he was there, waiting to kiss her in the darkness of her own mind.
“Aunt Meg?”