Chapter 5 - Five to Ate

Rest did not settle in eagerly or easily though. Inner ear swings and swoops around what I assumed were parked cars and the edges of narrow roads tempted me to release a reflected, silver eye on Lacy, in the hopes she might ease some of her rapid twirling of the wheel, as though dodging around imagined icebergs. Faith, have faith.

In my heart, I knew where her lack of confidence was first formed, the original grit that should've birthed a radiant pearl. Her mother, my aunt, Riona. The purest distillation of all our Irish blood and the one foe Lacy could never strike with sharpened words or a tightened fist.

And she knew it. I forget whether mother or daughter started their war. But clearly little Lacy had no idea that her words were aimed at a life-long vendetta, while Riona knew exactly what she was doing. For years, grandma privately fretted that her daughter was inflicting Munchausen syndrome by proxy on Lacy.

Lacy could never do anything right and always got sick with the worst, most unspecified diseases. By her mother's own prediction, she was going to die young. In the worst years, her father would send her over to the old house to stay with grandma and grandpa. Whenever Riona stomped over to retrieve her, grandma would make it clear that poor little Lacy needed her rest.

Same as her, I would seek refuge from my father's vicious gaze and biting words in that old house. I was at the cusp of an age where I thought it was gross that Lacy clung to me with such an intense, desperate fervor that it felt like a preview of how the banana had etched her all across me. At the same time, I kindled daydreams of whisking her off to a fantasy land of our own design.

I would protect her, and she could dance and adventure as far as she wished. We never gave it a name, but it was clearly inspired by the frozen antiques in the attic. The kingdom spread from a mechanical, clockwork castle as its central hub.

Time was a rainbow there. At the front of the castle, bakers puttered about in their morning routine with fresh loaves, children scampered off to play, and farmers doffed their hats to the warmth of the wakening day. Just a few streets over, noontime activity swelled with songs and cheerful lunches. Evening gathered its way back home just a little further and night cloaked the far swath of the castle in a restful eternity.

But time couldn't be a static place, especially in that moment as we worked our way back. Only once we returned to slower, familiar streets around the old house did Lacy's racing, twisting motions settle into easy, tiny shifts of the wheel. Caravans of squealing, scampering children were already making the rounds.

As Lacy jumped the same curb I had bounced over but in reverse, she released a breath that she didn't even seem to know she was holding as she slipped the truck back into the same nook beside the screen door.

After she'd dipped her head back against the worn leather of the bench, I reflected a quick smile on her and pronounced, "You did it. Better than I could've."

She bent her eyebrow up in a match-like waver of doubt before sighing softly through her nose. "I suppose. But we're here. Sorry about delaying your supper. You head on in, so you can eat."

Aiming skeptically at the door, my feet found Lacy's purse. I had so many questions. Do I just act like I'm her? Did she want both of us to go in together? What about all this prelude? And the lights? The clothes? Everything?

Rotating her head, Lacy smiled and said only, "I'll follow your lead."

She let me take her purse in. Or rather, she heaved her purse onto my shoulder like a weighty sash. It wasn't far removed fundamentally from the packs and messenger bags I used in college, but I could vividly feel the weight on top of everything. The purse that completed my look as Lacy.

I felt flush with a dull ache. Getting out of the truck cab took careful consideration of all the things that could snag. Once safely down on the pavement, I had to spin around to slam the door closed. Before I could gather up the courage to approach the screen door, Lacy had hopped around and given me half of what we'd brought back to hold on the other side from her purse. I felt like a bell-shaped, quivering pendulum.

My load included mainly the new clothes and a few other things I wasn't certain about. Lacy held portions of the clothing and the banana singles.

Feeling as girly as I could imagine, a paw-like press of air whispered around my altered forehead and stilled the nervous, swarming heat. The door was never really locked on this side, so it was just a matter of bumping the screen door open with Lacy's butt without tangling up the purse and just pushing the rest through.

My cousin bent against the wall next to the door and waited as I entered. It didn't take long for grandmother to creep with concern to the threshold of the kitchen and inquire, "You alright, hon? Where's John?"

It felt so rough to lie to her kind, gentle face, but I balanced it with the best smile, "It's been quite a day, but I'm back. John wanted to...take me shopping. As thanks. He wanted to get you a nice pumpkin too, but I told him it was alright. Sorry we spent so much time. He'll take care of everything in a minute, and I am sooo hungry. Chicken?"

Spreading out Lacy's words across several breaths felt like gingerly striding across an icy lake where numerous cracks awaited me with a single misstep. But I made it to the end or at least a place to pause and catch my breath.

Grandma dipped her head towards me and offered to relieve me of a few of the bags. I couldn't see Lacy out of the corner of my eye, but I also tried not to draw grandma's attention to that end of the room.

As myself, letting her take some bags was a courtesy but as Lacy, my arms felt like they wanted to slough off my body. Removing the purse was especially a relief. Grandma focused on the clothes and made certain that John paid for them. I would, eventually. Lacy would be reimbursed. I'd figure it out.

She had the chicken warmed up and ready for me nearby. I surrounded that bird and grabbed a John-sized portion, along with a heaping of sides. Drool flooded my mouth at the sight and aroma of the potatoes.

"Is John outside now? I wanna make sure he's alright." Grandma drifted towards the screen door, close enough she was sure to soon see Lacy hiding.

"Wait! He's...not there."

As grandma turned back, I could see a sliver of Lacy's hand flailing for the door. "How come, honey?" Grandma folded her hands with concern. At least I had her attention.

Gesturing to the other end of the house, I tried to lead her eyes away from the door as much as possible. "He had some troubles. We had some troubles and...it's the scratchers. I'm so embarrassed that we both forgot to get them for grandpa and he's just down the street at the market taking care of that for us. That's the trouble. Not a big trouble, but he wanted to make sure."

I couldn't remember if we'd even gotten the scratchers at the Walmart, but if I forgot and grandma saw them, I could just blame my memory. At least grandma would have no reason to look. But she glanced at the truck through the heavy, green drapes around the window, their pretty, white fringe lifting them so slightly to let the dipping sunlight through.

She was looking for me, but I was standing beside her. I really wanted to eat and the smell was potent, especially with Lacy's unfamiliar senses. At the same time, the real Lacy needed to get inside and....then what? She hadn't been exactly clear on what was on her mind.

We couldn't wiggle out of this with her staying upstairs and trading off roles. And I wasn't up for sneaking into the attic for the duration of however long this took to resolve.

Turning over a small, concerned noise, grandma was at the screen door, with it open before I could think of some other excuse to plop down in front of her. And she found no one just outside. I wanted to motion for Lacy to bolt for safety but, even with her tired eyes, there was no way grandma would miss her. I still couldn't even see where Lacy was hiding, if she was hiding at all.

I clung to my breath as grandma turned and looked back at me. The breath released when she didn't glance to the basement. Good work, Lacy, wherever you're hiding.

"You're sure he'll be back soon? It doesn't matter about the silly scratchers. I want to see the little ones all dressed up in their clever little outfits. Oh, you go eat, dear."

Not much was gonna pull her from this area. Although...

"Can we talk?" I hoped my serious intonation carried through Lacy's voice. Approaching, grandma finally laid her full attention on me.

I amended, "Not here. Umm...somewhere else, for a minute."

She puzzled over where might be better. I had a swift idea: The master bedroom on the first floor. I'd seen Lacy and grandma share some heart-to-hearts with a closed door and tears. Grandpa would be far enough away that Lacy could get out by following my lead.

But how to pass along my intentions to her? I raised Lacy's voice slightly and noted, "Can we have one of our chats...our private chats...on the other side of the house?" Hopefully, Lacy took the hint and could hear through the brick.

My plate sadly had to go into the microwave and patience had to reign in my heart.

Grandma lingered close and held Lacy's shoulder. As much as I may have been curious about what happened behind closed doors, I really didn't want to be a part of it. I intimately knew enough about my cousin in just a few hours to fill long conversations I didn't want to have with anyone, let alone my grandmother.

The bed was, as always, immaculate. It had grassy plains and farmland with chickens and sheep and idyllic places with inspirational text. Tassels covered everything. You had to dig through at least three layers of throw pillows to get to the bed ones. It was easy to slide onto the bed but impossible to figure out where to set Lacy's legs in a way that didn't feel weird or socially wrong.

At some point, I had taken those shoes off. Ultimately, I found myself feeling best about being basically on the edge of the bed but with a side-saddle stretch. Grandma sat down normally and gave me enough space.

"What's bothering you, honey? Is it about John? Or is it about your body?"

John, a hundred times more than trying to talk body stuff about Lacy. "It's John. I know he feels awful that he hasn't visited more often this year. He has such a flexible schedule because of tutoring too. I also know he always dreamed about having more time to see you and grandpa with that kind of schedule and, despite the fact he still lives so close, that just hasn't happened."

Bending closer, grandma touched me on the knee through that orange skirt. "Oh, honey. I know he means a lot to you. He means a lot to us all. I wonder sometimes if you should've been brother and sister or him the sister and you the brother...not to get you all blushing. And I assume he's very happy where he is right now."

Uhh...not exactly right now. I tried not to let anything show but heaven knows how good Lacy's poker face looked with me as the puppeteer. And Lacy wanted to be in my position? Oh....ohhhhh. And upstairs were my clothes and she had half a dozen supernatural bananas. Assuming she even needed my clothes for however this worked.