Live and Let Die

by Bianca Sloane

  Phillip nodded absentmindedly then opened and closed his mouth, seeming to struggle with what to say.

  “Listen, I know you think we rushed into this—”

  Sondra held up her hand. “Do you love my sister?”

  Phillip nodded. “More than I can say.”

  “Then that’s it. As long as you love and take care of her, that’s it.”

  Phillip pursed his lips together into a grateful smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll always take care of your sister.”

  •

  The reception had run well into the night and Sondra was exhausted. She had a seven a.m. flight back to New York, and Tracy and Phillip would be leaving for their honeymoon in Jamaica on Sunday afternoon, so Sondra wanted to make sure she said goodbye to Tracy before the limo took her back to her hotel in the city. She was leaning against the doorjamb of the front door watching as Tracy hugged the last guest, the straps of her rhinestone sandals slung around her wrist. She waved brightly to them until they climbed into their car and drove away. Tracy’s shoulders slumped a little and she looked over at Sondra.

  “So, a year, huh?” she said as she walked over to join Sondra in the entryway.

  Sondra nodded. “Yup. Will I be an aunt by the time I get back?”

  Tracy winked. “I have a pretty good feeling you will.”

  Sondra’s head flipped up. “You’re not—”

  Tracy giggled. “Oh, God no. No, no, but we’ve talked about starting a family in the next year or so.” Tracy hugged herself and closed her eyes. “I can’t wait.”

  Sondra looked down at the front walk in front of her, tracing a pattern with her toe.

  “You’ll be a great mom.” She looked up and smiled. “I can’t wait for you either.”

  Tracy’s face grew somber as she looked at Sondra. “You just make sure you come back.”

  Sondra held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  “Didn’t you get kicked out of Girl Scouts?”

  “Yeah, because I flashed my party pants at a Cub Scout.”

  Tracy playfully pinched Sondra’s arm, who went to put her sister in a headlock. The two women stopped laughing long enough to give each other a long, lingering hug.

  “I love you, baby girl,” Sondra said.

  “Back at ya, Sonny.” Tracy smiled. “I’ll see you soon.”

  TWO

  All ten of Sondra’s fingers were red, ragged messes. She’d been flying all day and night and unable to smoke, had nearly chewed each digit to the bone. The pilot announced their initial descent into Chicago and if she could have parachuted in, she would have.

  As the plane descended, Sondra flattened her forehead against the window of the plane, searching for the landscape of the city hidden beneath the white swell of clouds, frantic to land, to know…

  Finally, the plane taxied to the gate and Sondra ripped her seatbelt from across her slender waist, waiting for the doors to open. The aisles filled with passengers hauling down luggage, turning on cell phones to check messages and chatting away about emails, business meetings and what restaurants they would dine at while visiting Chicago. Going on with their lives as normal.

  Sondra went to turn her own phone back on, before remembering it had died just as she boarded. She balled her hand into a fist and bit her knuckle in a futile attempt to give her decimated fingers a rest. She wondered how long it would take the air marshal to catch her if she tried to shove past all these people.

  The traffic began to inch forward. The tip of Sondra’s tongue caught the saltiness from the perspiration on her upper lip as she folded her lanky frame over the seat in front of her, waiting for her turn in line. Clutching her one carry-on bag, she shuffled her way into the aisle before finally reaching the door.

  She tried to keep her cool as she went through customs. She kept a level gaze on the gate agent as he queried her about her time overseas and what she would be doing while in the U.S.

  She had to force the tears to stay inside while answering him.

  As soon as she was free of customs, she broke into a run, her smoker’s lungs protesting the whole time. The soles of her flips-slops slapped against the shiny tile like lit firecrackers as the crowds of arrivals and departures parted once they heard her pound towards them. She knew her feet would freeze, but she didn’t care. Tears stung Sondra’s eyes and she swatted at them as if they were errant gnats buzzing around her face as she scanned the boards overhead for directions to ground transportation.

  Panting, sweating, and nearly hacking up a lung, Sondra found the door leading to the taxis. The doors slid open and the blast of arctic air almost knocked her to the salt-stained sidewalk. Shivering in her thin sweatshirt, Sondra ran her trembling, blood-crusted fingers through her wavy, black tresses as she darted to the taxi stand. She hopped from one foot to the other to keep warm as she waited for yet another slow line to move forward. The fat black dispatcher, dwarfed beneath a dusty black down coat and furry earmuffs, gave her the once over.

  “What happened to your coat, young lady? You know this is Chicago in January,” he laughed, his breath billowing out from beneath jagged, yellow buckteeth to mock her.

  Sondra ignored him and ran to the orange Wolley cab he indicated. She jumped in and gave the driver the address, blowing breath into her hands to revive them. She was about to fish out her cigarettes when she noticed the “No Smoking” sign taped to the back of the seat. She groaned to herself and sat on her hands, rocking back and forth in a feeble attempt to keep herself calm.

  The gray and grit of the city looked repulsive to her on this frigid afternoon. She didn’t hear the low murmur of NPR—the universal radio station of cab drivers—as she stared unseeing out the window while smiling billboards sheathed under the sludge of winter, decaying buildings and grimy El trains hissed past her in a haze. After an eternity, the cab turned down her sister’s North side street and came to a stop in front of her house. Sondra threw a wad of crumpled twenties at the driver and flung the door open, not bothering to close it. She didn’t hear the cabbie yelling after her as she bounded up the front steps of the house and slammed herself against the door to make it open.

  The first thing she heard was her mother’s pained cries. The first thing she saw was her father’s face, and the shake of his head.

  Sondra’s knees buckled and she crumpled into a pile on the gleaming hardwood floor.

  THREE

  The ensuing days were draped in heavy fog. Tracy had gone jogging and before she left, had talked to Phillip, out of town for a pharmacy convention, mentioning that if the promised snowstorm didn’t materialize, she was going to stop at the store on the way home for a few things and would call him when she returned.

  He never heard from her.

  Her body had been discovered along the lakefront, her face bashed in. Her empty wallet was found a few feet away and the police ruled it to be a mugging gone wrong, but had no leads. Phillip took on the gruesome task of IDing the body. Tracy had requested cremation and Sondra was thrust into the role of trying to comfort her parents and be strong for Phillip. Her mother, Mimi, never stopped crying, while Phillip and her father, Gordon, cycled between stoic strength and jagged sobs.

  Tracy’s memorial service brimmed with people from all corners of the country. Sondra, unable to read the poem her mother had requested, broke down mid-stanza. Phillip rushed to her side and with one reedy arm planted around Sondra’s shoulders, finished reading it for her, his own voice quivering with corked tears.

  In the end, it had all been too much for Mimi who, after the service, fled in a taxi back to her hotel downtown, leaving Gordon, Sondra, and Phillip to accept the well-meaning platitudes, and stifle their own tears. Sondra wished she could have hopped a ride with her mother, because truth be told, all she wanted to do was lay down on the floor, curl up in a ball and cry herself tearless. When people didn’t think she could hear them, they would tut-tut about how terrible it was to outlive your children.

  Sondra was start
ing to think it was pretty shitty to outlive your younger sister.

  It took the better part of five hours to clear the house of mourners, people reluctant, it seemed, to leave, as if the simple act of departing Tracy’s house would mean they really would have to say goodbye. They lingered long into the night until Sondra had finally started to hint it had been a long day.

  Exhausted, Sondra flopped into the couch in the living room, watching the promised flurries float across the night sky. She heard a noise and tilted her head to see Phillip come in. He too seemed mesmerized by the fat, juicy flakes drifting to the frozen ground. She noticed he was clutching Tracy’s burgundy cardigan sweater.

  “When it finally hit me that she was missing, I found myself carrying this sweater around, wondering if she was cold and just wishing I could wrap her up in it.” He sighed. “And it smells like her.”

  Sondra sniffed and turned her attention back to the snow. “I wondered the same thing. If she was cold, I mean.”

  Phillip came over and sat down on the couch next to Sondra. For several minutes, neither of them spoke.

  “You know she called me a few days before… I was right in the middle of something and I told her I’d call her back and then I forgot… ” Sondra said, her voice trailing off.

  “Don’t blame yourself, Sondra. It’s not worth it.”

  Sondra sighed, shaking her head and they both fell silent again.

  “Was she happy?” Sondra asked to break the silence.

  “What?”

  “I mean… was she happy? The last few months… ” Sondra was unable to keep her eyes dry.

  Phillip sighed. “Yeah, I mean… she loved her job, her friends, we were talking about starting a family in a year or so… she… God… that last time we talked, she told me how much she loved me… ”

  Phillip cried as he remembered his last conversation with his wife. “We just didn’t have enough time. We were supposed to have our whole lives together.” Phillip stopped and looked down at his hands, rolled together like balls of yarn.

  “At least she was happy,” Sondra murmured, the tears streaming down her cheeks. “That’s something at least… ”

  “Without her, I just… ” Phillip’s voice cracked as another tidal wave of tears washed over him. Sondra reached out her arms and drew him into them and they sobbed together.

  FOUR

  Phillip closed the door and walked over to the picture window to watch the cab ferry Sondra to the airport and back to India to finish work on her documentary. He stood rooted in his spot for at least five minutes, wanting to be sure she didn’t come back for some forgotten book or blow dryer. It had been brutal to have them all there, fawning all over him, offering their condolences and memories. He’d wanted to run screaming from the house and counted the minutes until he was free of all well-wishers, grieving friends, and in-laws.

  Satisfied, he turned and went in search of his phone, dialing the number from memory.

  “I’m on my way. Be ready for me when I get there.”

  He clicked the phone off and walked over to a picture of Tracy and him on their wedding day. He let his finger trail down her cheek before he picked it up and kissed the image.

  “Sometimes, we do what we have to do.”

  He lingered over the picture for a few more minutes before he grabbed his coat and keys and left.

  FIVE

  Sondra stood in front of the bakery window, captivated by the display of enormous yellow cupcakes obscured beneath fluffy white frosting, rainbow sprinkles nestled in the crevices. Sondra stubbed out her cigarette, went into the bakery and bought one of the cupcakes along with a cup of coffee.

  They even gave her a candle.

  She found an empty table along the back wall and gingerly set the cupcake down in front of her, swirling her finger along the edge, catching a glob of frosting on the tip. She licked it and groaned, savoring the gritty sweetness. She lit the candle and closed her eyes for a moment before blowing it out. Sighing, she leaned back in her chair, watching passersby outside as she ran a hand through her wavy black hair.

  About a year and a half had passed since Tracy’s brutal death and today was her sister’s birthday. Sondra continued to pick at the cupcake and after eating barely half of it, tossed it and her empty coffee cup in the trash. As she headed back to her hotel, she fumbled around the bottom of her large bag for her cigarettes. Locating them, she rapped the box in the palm of her hand, making several definitive thwack, thwack, thwacks. As she went to light up, her phone jangled from somewhere in her bag.

  “Damn,” she muttered when she saw who it was and dropped the cigarettes back in her bag. Sondra knew even through the phone, Mimi would be able to tell she was puffing away.

  “Hi, Mommy.”

  “I’m sorry I missed you earlier. I was coming back from Sacramento. You’re okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m good,” Sondra said as she navigated the throngs of people on Broadway. “I’m on my way back from the doctor now. He ran every test known to man, and he expects I’ll have a clean bill of health.”

  “Well, you know I worry. I just don’t want… ”

  Sondra looked up to see the Times Square Jumbotron telling her to watch ABC Thursday nights at nine, and mentally completed her mother’s unspoken words.

  I just don’t want to lose another daughter.

  “Mommy, I promise, I’m fine. I would tell you if I weren’t.”

  From California, Sondra swore she could hear her mother close her eyes and send a silent ‘thank you’ to God.

  “I know; I’m just overreacting… ” Mimi’s faint German accent halted a bit before trailing off. There was a quiet moment between mother and daughter.

  “I stopped at a bakery a few minutes ago and had a cupcake. You know the yellow ones with all the frosting? They even gave me a candle.”

  Sondra could hear Mimi sniffle. “She always loved white frosting on her cupcakes. She never wanted anything on her birthday but yellow cupcakes with white frosting, even when she was little.”

  “I still can’t believe she’s gone.”

  “She would have been thirty-five. So young.”

  “I know, Mommy.”

  “I catch myself thinking about her at the strangest times. Like yesterday, I was getting in the car and was remembering when I was teaching her how to drive. I sat in the driveway crying for twenty minutes.”

  “I know, Mommy. It’s hard.”

  “Then Mrs. Pinkus came over knocking on the window, yammering on about her dog being hit by a car last year. Like you can compare the two.”

  “In her mind, you can.”

  “Sonny, I don’t think it’ll ever stop hurting.”

  Sondra shook her head, tears now welling in her eyes. “I know,” she said. “I know.”

  “I sent a box of her things over to your apartment. Mindy said she would keep it for you until you got back. I thought you would want them. I just… I tried to go through it, but… I just couldn’t… ”

  “Yeah, Mindy told me. I won’t be back in the apartment for a few weeks, so I’ll go through everything… at some point.” She paused. “How’s Daddy?”

  “He’s good, good. Working on a new book, so he’s down in L.A. for a few days doing some research.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s this one about?”

  “He mumbled something about the movies. You know how he gets when he’s in the zone.”

  Sondra chuckled and wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “That I do.”

  “Oh, oh, speaking of, that’s daddy on the other line. I’ve got to go.”

  “Tell him I said hey.”

  “Okay, sweetie.” Mimi paused. “I’m so glad you’re home. Safe and sound.”

  Sondra closed her eyes and sighed at the sadness in her mother’s voice. “I know. Bye, Mommy.”

  Sondra hung up and continued down Broadway towards The W where she was staying for a few weeks. She retrieved her cigarettes once more and lit up, sighing with satis
faction as the nicotine flooded through her. As Sondra took drags off her cigarette, she found herself lost in thoughts about Tracy.

  It was a warm April day in Manhattan, but the image of her sister lying alone and bloody beneath the blowing and drifting snow of a vicious Chicago winter made Sondra shiver, just like she had that day in India when her mother had called to tell her Tracy was missing. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, much to the ire of New Yorkers trying to steer around her. Sondra trembled again and wrapped her arms around her waist.

  Her cigarette had burned down to a nub and she jumped as the ash stung her finger. She dropped the cigarette on the sidewalk and resumed walking, Tracy’s face spinning in her head.

  SIX

  Sondra put on her sunglasses as she glided through the lobby of her apartment building on her way outside. The burly new doorman swung the revolving door for her.

  “Good morning, Ms. Ellis. Need a cab?”

  Sondra smiled. “Please, call me Sondra and no, it’s such a nice day out, I’m going to walk. Besides, I need the fresh air,” she said, winking at him as she waved her newly extracted cigarette in his direction.

  “Have a good day,” he laughed.

  After a year and a half of criss-crossing the globe for her latest documentary on women’s beauty rituals, Sondra had moved back into her apartment a few weeks earlier and had been working nonstop on post-production ever since. Yesterday had been a seventeen-hour day and today promised to be yet another marathon session. She lit up and had just taken her first inhale when she saw a tall, handsome black guy in an obviously expensive suit walking towards her, talking on his cell phone. She stopped dead in her tracks, not believing it was him. He saw her and did a double-take as well.