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Climbing in, I could hear my luggage bags thumping loudly as she threw them in the trunk without a care. What a great bestie. She wasn’t kidding, she had all the bells and whistles on this thing. It was the total package, complete with a large screen and a vocal computerized assistant. It carried an expensive smell, much like the Ted Baker heels I bought—the ones still pristine in the box and cost a whole paycheck. Even the perfect sunroof laid above our heads as I dropped my seat back.
From there, we roared onward. The crisp morning sun exposed entire farmlands and perfectly placed hordes of forest trees. I see nothing has changed, then again, what could I expect? But, it was home.
All of these decades, Eve was practically a sister to me. We were the only children within our families and have known one another since we were in diapers — our moms were best friends since kindergarten. You couldn’t get more small-town than that.
It was always my father, Eve, and I together, enjoying late night dinners. Eve lived at my house about four to five times a week, since her parents were workaholics who couldn’t stand the sight of each other but had to uphold their marriage due to traditional values.
My dad didn’t mind so much, though, since her and I kept one another company. It allowed him more time to himself, I think. Mom passed when I was in first grade.
Pancreatic cancer.
I don’t remember everything that happened, but every once in a while, I would see those last tragic moments when I looked into Dad’s sunken eyes.
One of my fondest memories of my mother was her voice and how she would sing for any and every occasion. Being back here reminded me of her. I could still hear the mental echoes of her own Broadway renditions.
She always wanted to visit New York, to see a show, to see people sing. I missed that and loved that about her. I couldn’t blame her for implanting the dream of the glorious city I now lived in along with its charm. All of that was instilled by her. Young brains are so impressionable, mine was no different. I’ll never forget one of the last gifts she got me, a large picture book called “Seasons of the City.” We would sit for hours looking at tall architectural buildings and the small hidden shops within them, planning our future trip with a point of my finger. I believed she would be the only one to understand why I left. I really missed her.
Eve occasionally turned in conversation to gaze in my direction, seeking my reaction about the latest lives she graciously saved until she decided to pass the talking baton. “How’s Robbie doing anyway?” The quick subject change was a whiplash I didn’t see coming.
“Ugh, I rather not talk about him right now.” He was the furthest person from my mind. This was my vacation away from him. God damn it, what bride-to-be would even think that a week before their wedding? Most brides had jitters or insomnia over how anxious they were about their approaching big day. Me? I was not exactly in that phase, nor did I plan to be. Sometimes our relationship or this wedding felt like an obligation to Robbie and his parents who, much like Eve’s, placed major importance on tradition. They may be New York City moguls, but having their beloved only son living with his girlfriend wasn’t appropriate.
“Still a shithead, then? All right, maybe it’s time…”
“Stop.” I cut her off because I didn’t want to think about Robbie or hear about how he’s a shithead from Eve. “I just can’t talk about him right now. Can we please just change the subject? Music, boys, anything?”
Eve rolled her eyes and sighed, sliding in her *NSYNC CD.
3
Julia
Aloud obnoxious snort tooted out of me because of how ridiculous Eve sounded as she sang at the top of her lungs. Her arms swayed in a dance, almost popping her ass out of the window — thanks Justin Timberlake for being the last man I’d hear before we crashed.
Shit, even my abs were in literal pain by the time we made it inside her home. That would be my work out for the day, I didn’t give a damn what anyone else would think.
We stepped inside her house, and I glanced around Eve’s kitchen as she talked about how awful her cooking skills still were. I mean, the girl couldn’t put cereal together to save her life, let alone turn on the stove top. Let’s just say blonde jokes were invented because of her, but I loved her anyway.
Peering around her house, I noticed it was as colorful as her larger-than-life personality. Bold pinks and yellows splayed on various walls, reminding me of our childhood. She never grew out of her nineties phase, which was totally ok with me. Deep down I hadn’t outgrown it either.
In the living room, I noticed a familiar obsession. I picked up one of her plush toys, “Beanie babies? You do know these are worthless now right? Not the retirement fund we thought we’d cash out on.” Eve hopped off the couch to slap my hand.
“Don’t touch Chocolate. You’ll hurt his feelings,” she snatched the moose out of my hand, petting his nose and antlers as she baby talked to the stuffed animal. Again, a stuffed animal!
“Sorry.” I scanned the rest of the collection and spot my old camel. “Humphrey! I didn’t know you still kept the entire collection.” I pet back his short plush material as if it were real fur. “And Patti’s here too. You kept them all? Can’t say I’m surprised, I suppose.”
My mother gave me Patti when I was younger, and after she had passed, I gave up my collection. It was sort of our thing.
Eve’s shoulders slumped down when she moved closer towards me to get a better look. “Yup, these babies aren’t going anywhere, even if they’re worth millions one day.” She paused to admire the pink platypus. “I distinctly remember you giving me the box saying you didn’t want them because,” Eve mocked with air quotes, “they meant nothing to you. But at least they meant something to me, and every time I see them, I imagine how much better life was when we were younger. So uncomplicated and innocent.” I squeezed Eve’s hand over her admission.
Her happy smile faded as she picked up Chocolate once more. The moose was a special one, I remembered. Story was Eve’s mother picked one up for her on her way home from work one day, which I assumed was from the airport. The woman traveled about seventy percent of the time for work. Eve was elated to start her collection, and Chocolate was her first, the one to kick off her obsession; that was Eve’s quirk.
After that, most of the morning we lounged around, throwing popcorn into one another’s mouth. Except I would purposefully miss Eve’s mouth to annoy her — she hated butter touching her perfect face.
“Will you grow up, Julia? Seriously.” She huffed and crossed her arms. She fell for the same trick each time. The same one I’d been playing on her since we were kids. Some people just don’t learn.
“You make it too easy, and I won’t apologize for it.” I stuck my tongue out at her.
Our backs sat up against the foot of her bed, our heads propped on a pillow. The TV buzzed in the background with romantic comedies, and in between catching up, drooling over hot guys on Instagram, and snacking, we would hear the occasional one-liner that had us rolling on our bellies laughing.
