Twist of Fate

by Sheri L. Brown

  “Hey, Claire, do you wanna go back to my place with the band?” Abigail asked.

  “Um, sure,” Claire had no idea what time it was. She decided tonight would be her night to be free and maybe break her curfew… a little. She pulled her phone out of her pocket. It was just shy of eleven.

  “I can totally go to your house, Abigail, I don’t have to be home for like two hours.”

  Claire piled in the back of the van with the band while Smitty drove and Abigail sat up front. One of the guys lit a joint and passed it around. Claire puffed on it and handed it over to the drummer. They arrived at Abigail’s house within minutes. Claire felt her phone vibrate as she jumped out of the van.

  Hey, thinking of you. How’d it go today? Xoxo

  A wave of guilt washed through Claire’s body. She stood still long enough for everyone to notice.

  “Claire, are you coming in or what?” Smitty yelled as he walked up to the door.

  “Yeah, I’m coming!”

  Ryan was sweet for checking on her, but she was having way too much fun and it was exactly what Claire needed after the last few days. Claire thought about texting her mother to let her know she was staying at her friend’s house for the night, but it would seem entirely presumptuous and uncool to invite herself over.

  “Hey, you all right?” Abigail asked as Claire came in the front door.

  “Yeah, I’m great!”

  “Do you wanna stay over?”

  “I was just thinking that….”

  Abigail’s house was an old Victorian home, not too far from Claire’s house. She had remodeled it beautifully. The walls were painted in jewel tones and funky art hung on the walls. There was a life-size statue of a naked man and woman in one corner, molded out of a piece of screen. Abigail had a separate light fixture for it that shined though its holes.

  “Wow,” Claire was stunned. It was beautiful, edgy and creative all at once.

  “Yeah, cool, huh? It’s not the sculpture the artist wants you to see, it’s the silhouette the screen makes on the wall.”

  Claire stood and stared at every line the screen people and lighting made together on the wall. She thought about Candy and her artwork while she outlined the details of the shadow with her finger.

  “Hey, Claire, come sit on the couch with us!”

  Claire looked up and saw Abigail and Smitty sitting next to one another on the couch. He patted his hand on the cushion indicating where she should go. Claire ran over to the couch and jumped in between them.

  “Hey, Abigail, I have an artist friend in Greenwich Village that has really cool stuff. We should go down there and see if there’s anything that turns you on,” Claire said, giggling.

  A couple of the guys pulled out their guitars and a single drum and started playing and singing softly. It was beginning to feel like a religious experience for Claire. The lyrics and the soft touch on each instrument made her feel and think things she never knew existed. She leaned back into the couch and thought about the smile that wouldn’t leave her face.

  “I know something that would really turn Abigail on….” Smitty said with a smile.

  He reached over to Abigail and pulled her over Claire before kissing her deeply. Abigail giggled and Claire was unfazed. She thought it must have been the mushrooms or the beer or the pot, but this kind of behavior would normally be overwhelming for Claire, but instead she was feeling… content.

  “Hey, Smitty,” Claire said, “I can’t do it with you guys, if that’s what you’re saying.”

  Abigail sat back on the couch and put her hand on Claire’s leg, “Honey, he was just teasing.”

  “Look, I would be totally into it if….”

  Claire was interrupted by Smitty kissing her. It was sensual and gentle. She felt herself starting to melt into the couch and she didn’t want to move. Claire desperately wanted one, single, rational thought to pass through her mind and shake her out of the moment, but she couldn’t find one. She kissed Smitty back and let Abigail rub her back while she did it. The boys in the band kept playing and it was as though it was no big deal. Claire lost track of time until Smitty asked if they would take it upstairs.

  Claire had the feeling again that she had with Ryan. It was as though she had to go through with it because her body and hormones were shouting at the top of her lungs that she needed to have sex. She never come down from her hormonal high if she didn’t just do it. Her internal dialogue about someone being vagina-worthy went out the window. Her thoughts about cheating on Ryan didn’t matter in the moment. She was going to go upstairs and have a ménage à trois and lose her virginity. The music stopped. Claire looked up at everyone in the room. The boys were still playing, but suddenly nothing seemed the same. Claire was coming down off her high or perhaps just coming to her senses.

  “Hey,” Claire said, “you two are awesome and sexy and nice and cool… and a lot of things, but I was saving myself for one person for my first time. I mean, not anyone in particular… necessarily, I just don’t want a threesome to be that memory for me.”

  “Can she be any more adorable?” Abigail asked.

  “No,” Smitty said, “I have to agree with you, she can’t be any more adorable. Maybe we can take a raincheck... in like ten years, when you’re ready to sow some of those oats.”

  Smitty wrapped his arms around Claire and gave her a big hug. Abigail joined in. Claire’s heart was happy. She was glad they understood and she had a lot of fun in the meantime.

  Abigail dropped Claire off just before one and gave her a big kiss on the lips before she got out of the van.

  “It was so nice meeting you and partying with you,” Abigail said.

  “It was. Next time I’m up this way let’s get together or maybe meet in the city?”

  “Sounds good, girlfriend, you have my number, love you.”

  And with that, Abigail drove off into the night. Claire couldn’t wait to get into her pajamas and into bed.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  No one bothered to wake Claire up the following morning. She wondered if her mother knew she came in late. She rolled over and looked at the time on her phone. It was almost ten o’clock. Skylar’s bed was still made from the day before. Claire sighed, feeling sorry for herself and the temporary loss of her sister to Felicia. She wondered if Skylar were here if she would tell her about her wild experience with Abigail and Smitty the night before. She certainly didn’t want to brag or one-up her sister and all of her sexual escapades as of late. Claire decided she was glad she was alone. She didn’t have to decide what she would or wouldn’t confide in that moment and it gave her a moment alone to call Ryan.

  She dialed his number and waited for the ring. It was seven in the morning west coast time. It was a little crazy to call Ryan this early on a Sunday. It was probably his only day off he had from baseball.

  “Hello?”

  The voice on the other end of the phone was not Ryan.

  “I’m sorry,” Claire said, “I must have the wrong number. I’m trying to find Ryan….”

  “No, this is his number, but he’s in the shower. Can I give him a message?”

  “Uh,” Claire could feel herself unable to breathe, “no, I’ll call back later.”

  Claire hung up her phone and sat on the edge of her bed. A girl had just answered his phone and said he was in the shower… at seven in the morning California-time. Claire didn’t want to think about or conjure up any images of Ryan with another girl. She could have been a woman, for all Claire knew. She pictured a tall, lanky blonde in a spandex dress and a lot of plastic surgery.

  She lay back down on her bed and let a tear roll out of her eye. The summer they had spent together had become a dream. The sad part about the whole scenario was Claire had technically cheated on Ryan the night before. She couldn’t pinpoint her empty feelings. It was an amalgam of guilt mixed with regret, jealousy and sorrow. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet, but they had naturally moved on with their lives. Claire wondered if everyt
hing in life were that temporal. She heard a knock at her door.

  “Come in,” Claire said.

  “Hey, honey, are you ready to search for the box?”

  It was Rachel. She was possibly more excited than anyone about the key and the box and Claire’s newfound psychic abilities. Claire lifted her head only slightly off the pillow.

  “Honey, what’s got you down?”

  “I just called Ryan and a girl answered his phone.”

  “Ohhhh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

  “I mean, I know we’re young and we agreed to stay in touch, but we never really said anything about seeing other people….”

  “Well, you still have a friendship with this boy. Keep the lines of communication open, honey. But I think you’re smart not to commit. You’re young, you should be experiencing life.”

  “Well, I have a feeling I’m going to get very good at that… experiencing life… especially in New York with you.”

  Rachel put her arm around Claire as she sat up in bed and laughed, “Well, I’m happy to be the one to be a part of it. Now let’s go find that box.”

  Claire was feeling surprisingly good despite her antics from the night before. She opted not to shower, but throw on some old jeans and a T-shirt. She headed downstairs and poured the remaining coffee from breakfast into a mug. She added a dash of cream and sat down at the table. Sarah walked in moments later.

  “Good morning, Clairebear, have you seen Skye this morning?”

  “No,” Claire said, “I assumed she was staying at Felicia’s, so I’m guessing she’s there now. She didn’t sleep here last night.”

  Sarah sighed, “I knew she wasn’t coming home last night… did she ever work out the story of her cell phone going missing or ask Felicia about the note she left her mother?”

  “I don’t know, Mom. Skye and I haven’t had much time to reconnect since I found her… and I’ve had other things on my mind.”

  “Of course you have, dear. Have you heard from Ryan?”

  Claire didn’t feel like talking about Ryan or anything else, for that matter. She had to consider looking at her life through a different lens. Instead of acting like the girl who was cheated on, she needed to think about what she ended up doing the night before. She thought about the mushrooms and the band and the time at Abigail’s. She got a chill up her spine when she thought about making out with Abigail and Smitty.

  “Why are you smiling like that, Claire?”

  “Oh, just thinking about my romp on the town last night. I went out to see Abigail’s boyfriend play with his band.”

  “It looks like you had a good time judging by the smile on your face.”

  “It was fun.”

  Claire heard her phone chime and looked down to see who was texting her.

  Can we talk when you have a chance? Xo

  Claire needed a break from Ryan. She wondered why he was signing his text with an ‘xo’ considering he slept with another woman the night before. It made the most sense for her to lighten up and enjoy life. She grabbed her hoodie and headed toward her car.

  “My delay in getting back to him will give Ryan and his new lover a chance to have breakfast together.”

  “Claire? Who are you talking to?” Rachel asked as she approached the car.

  “Oh, no one… myself. I’m talking to myself about Ryan. He just texted me and wants to talk.”

  “Make him sweat a little, honey.”

  Claire turned and looked at Rachel. She had no interest in manipulating a boy or making him sweat. She’d talk to him once she was settled in and alone, maybe after dinner. Besides, Rachel’s outfit was way more interesting than rehashing the Ryan scenario or figuring out a ‘strategy’ to handle him. Claire’s grandmother had a tendency to wear monochromatic outfits, unless she decided on something more Emilio Pucci-esque, like the outfit from Claire’s birthday party. Today might have been the epitome of same-color ensembles, Claire thought. Rachel was dressed in yellow from head to toe. It was admittedly a classic, pale yellow, thank God, Claire thought, not bumble bee yellow—high-rise palazzo pants, a chiffon blouse, belt, shoes, earrings and pill-box hat—all yellow and all for going to dig around in Zia’s house for the missing box. Claire was certain no one else could pull off the look.

  “Wow, Rachel, you look great. But you know we’re just going to be digging through stuff to look for the mystery box.”

  “Well, honey, you know I dress for everything. Let’s go.”

  Rachel asked Claire if she heard anything from Zia lately as they rode over to her house.

  “Not a word.”

  When they arrived a car was parked in front of Zia’s house. The front door was askew. Claire jumped out of the car and ran inside. She couldn’t think of anyone who would be there or anyone other than immediate family who would have a key to Zia’s house. Claire barreled through the partially open front door and stopped in the living room. She surveyed everything and nothing appeared to be out of place.

  “Hello?” Claire called out.

  “Claire, is anyone here?” Rachel came in seconds later.

  “No, maybe we should call the police,” Claire said, “I heard about this. You run an obituary and people read them, you find the person’s address on the internet and bam! You’ve been robbed blind.”

  “Well, I suppose that can happen,” Rachel said, “but up here in the middle of nowhere?”

  “Rachel, I know you’d like to think….”

  Claire was interrupted by a voice that was headed her way. A small woman, just a hair taller than four and a half feet, was coming out of Zia’s bedroom with a leather duffle bag and a grocery bag filled with things.

  “Baldi??” Claire said.

  “What are you two doing here?”

  “That’s none of your business,” Rachel snapped, “what the hell are you doing here? This is private property.”

  “Oh, there were a couple things Regina wanted me to have. I have a key, you know. I didn’t just break in here.”

  “There’s a will attached to this house and the belongings it contains. You need to leave that stuff here,” Rachel said.

  Claire was impressed. Her grandmother sounded so important. She sounded intimidating and way too smart to have the wool pulled over her eyes. And the truth of the matter was that neither Claire nor anyone else in the family had any idea of what Zia had collected over the years. As far as Claire was concerned and in light of the cross being so valuable, anything in Zia’s house could be a potential gold mine. It was important that she and Rachel paid attention to who was going in and out of the house. What the hell was Baldi doing there, Claire wondered. Sure, they were friends at the Italian Club, but Claire really didn’t know her all that well.

  “Leave the bags right there, ma’am,” Rachel spoke again in a confident, monotone voice.

  “Look, we were friends and through the years, she would say… oh, if I die you should take that or if anything happens to me, you have to have that.”

  “Regina’s will can iron that all out for us, but for now, you’re leaving empty-handed. We’ll be in touch if you’ve been left anything.”

  Baldi shrugged and dropped the bags on the floor.

  “Oh, and if you have a house key, you can give that to me,” Rachel said, holding out her hand.

  “Oh, yes, here it is… this is not what it looks like, you know,” Baldi said, “we were friends.”

  Claire couldn’t tell if Baldi was sincerely grieving her buddy or if it was a little bit of a ruse.

  “I’ll call you, Baldi, if Zia left you anything or when the time comes to sell the house and pack everything up. I’m sure there are things Zia wanted you to have.”

  “Thank you, Claire, and yes, call me if you need help with anything.”

  Claire and Rachel watched as Baldi got in her car and drove away.

  “Everyone comes out to get something from a dead person’s house. Is it about the connection with that person or do they just want something mat
erial?” Claire asked.

  “Well, it might be sentimental… or valuable,” Rachel said as she pulled a jewelry box from the leather bag.

  “Well, open it,” Claire said, “let’s see what’s inside.”

  Rachel tugged on the lid of the box and couldn’t open it. She handed it to Claire. Claire tried to pull it open without success.

  “Is this the box Zia was talking about?”

  “It has a keyhole,” Rachel said.

  Claire pulled the key from her pocket and slid it into the keyhole. The box opened on the first turn of the key.

  “Thank you, Baldi,” Claire said.

  “Thank you my ass,” Rachel said, “that woman had no right coming in here.”

  “No, but she did save us a lot of time searching for this thing... and now that I think about it, I don’t ever remember seeing this box anywhere. Strange how Baldi knew where it was.”

  “None of it makes sense then, Claire,” Rachel said, “Why would Zia insist on you finding the box to the secret key hidden under the statue if it were a secret that she evidently shared with Baldi and not us.”

  “Maybe Zia didn’t think I’d make a psychic friend so soon after her passing. I mean, what if all of this happened for a reason. Skylar runs away and I go to find her. She shacks up with a woman who lives across the hall from a psychic who tells me about a secret key in Zia’s house… this is crazy, right?”

  It was crazy, Rachel had to admit. She had forgotten what it was like to be around someone young, with a good memory, a vivid imagination and the sensibility that everything unfolding around her was magical or fateful. It was refreshing. Rachel needed to let Claire know what a breath of fresh air she truly was.

  Claire brought the box into the living room and set it on the coffee table. She and Rachel sat down and opened it. There were several pieces of jewelry, a copy of her last will and testament and at least twenty small books that looked like journals Zia had written over the years. Its musty pages were yellowed with age. The bottom of the box was lined with old photographs.