#7 A Twist of Fate

by Laurie Friedman

“She’s a grown woman,” my mom reminded her older sister. “You can’t just make her do something she’s already told you she doesn’t want to do.”

  When the microwave beeped, my mom and aunts all looked at me. “Is your tea ready?” Mom asked.

  “Almost,” I said as I slowly took the teabag out of the box and got the milk from the refrigerator and the honey out of the pantry. Mom gave me a hurry-up look but then went back to the conversation with her sisters.

  “She trusts Dr. Green, and she knows how she wants to handle this,” said Mom in a low voice. “I think we need to respect that.”

  “Well, I disagree with how she’s handling it,” said Aunt Lilly. Her voice was anything but low. It was obvious she was agitated that Mom wasn’t in agreement with her.

  “What about the trip?” asked Aunt Lila. “We haven’t even discussed it. Mom really wants us to all go.”

  “If we all stick together on this and say we’re not going, it will force her to cancel the trip,” said Aunt Lilly.

  “Like a boycott?” I asked. I hadn’t meant to interject, but it just slipped out.

  My mom and aunts all looked at me. “April, take your tea and pizza into the other room,” Mom said.

  Stalling was no longer an option, so I went into the family room and watched SpongeBob with my sisters while I ate. When we finished, the conversation in the kitchen was still going strong.

  I took the dinner plates into the kitchen and started to wash them in the sink. As a card-carrying member of this family, I felt I had the right to know what was being said, but apparently Mom disagreed. “April, leave the plates on the counter, please, and go do your homework, and make sure May and June do theirs too.” Her voice was all business.

  I started my homework, but I had a hard time focusing on the biological behavior of plants when I was a whole lot more interested in the behavior that was going on in the kitchen between my mother and her sisters. Their voices were elevated, which meant they weren’t in agreement on what was being discussed. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but from what I’d heard earlier, Aunt Lilly wants to get a second opinion and definitely not go on the trip. Mom wants to respect what Gaga wants, and if I had to guess, Aunt Lila hasn’t made her mind up about how she feels. It sounds like she’s more Team Mom than Team Aunt Lilly, but I’m not sure.

  When I heard the front door shut a few minutes ago, I looked at my watch. My aunts were already at my house when I got home at 5:45, and they left at 9:02. That means they talked for at least three hours and seventeen minutes, maybe longer.

  So I know how long they were talking . . . but what I really want to know is what was said.

  Tuesday, March 3, 1:45 p.m.

  Study Hall

  Today I found out what was going on last night between my mom and my aunts, but now I have something new to wonder about.

  I ate lunch with Harry and Sophie, and Harry told us that his mom was really upset when she got home last night. He said he heard her telling his dad that she thinks my mom and Aunt Lila are ganging up on her. She said that they all agreed to be on the same page, but she thinks it’s crazy to let Gaga go on a trip when she’s sick, and my mom and Aunt Lila think we should all respect Gaga’s wishes.

  “I didn’t know grown-ups could gang up on one another,” I said.

  “Anyone can gang up,” said Harry. “But I’m glad they did. Amanda and I agree with Aunt Flora and Aunt Lila. Not just because we want to go skiing. We think Gaga should get to choose what she wants to do. It’s not like she’s a child.”

  “I totally agree,” I said between bites of my tuna wrap. Harry and I both looked at Sophie for her to weigh in. I was sure she was going to agree with us. She’s usually the poster child for letting people have free choice.

  “Huh?” Sophie looked like she hadn’t been paying any attention to what we were talking about. I repeated the details of the debate between the sisters. But when I finished, Sophie had this weird, blank look like she hadn’t heard a word I’d said.

  I waved my hands in front of her face. “Earth to Sophie.”

  “Oh, sorry,” she said like she just realized her lack of interest was obvious. Then she muttered something about having a test and left.

  “That was weird,” I said.

  “Yeah,” said Harry. “A lot of weird things are going on in our family lately.”

  I had to agree. Gaga is sick. Mom and her sisters are fighting, and Sophie is suddenly all loopy and distracted. I don’t usually think of Harry as a particularly good barometer of human emotion, but today I’d say he was spot on.

  Wednesday, March 4, 5:58 p.m.

  When I got home from dance, there was a note from Mom saying that she was at Aunt Lila’s, Dad was at the diner, and there was meatloaf and green beans for May, June, and me in the oven.

  Translation: Mom and her sisters are back at it.

  10:42 p.m.

  Leo just called, which was good because it made me stop listening to the conversation that was going on across the hall in Mom and Dad’s room, about the fact that Aunt Lilly is now officially not talking to Mom or Aunt Lila. Listening to Mom tell Dad what was going on was making me feel sick. It’s bad enough that Gaga has cancer, but it just seems like completely the wrong time for my mom and her sisters to be fighting, when they have always been close.

  “April, you’re kind of quiet,” Leo said a few minutes into our conversation. “I find it odd you have no comment on the fact that the highly esteemed university I go to is no longer offering ham or turkey as fillings at the make-your-own omelet station.”

  I couldn’t help but giggle. Leo knows me well enough to know I would normally have a lot to say on a topic like that. “Sorry,” I said. “I guess my mind was elsewhere.”

  “Care to share?” asked Leo.

  I’d already told him about Gaga’s cancer, but this latest dramatic development was new news.

  “Hmmm,” said Leo when I was done talking. I gave him time to think.

  “There’s a political principle called majority rule,” he said when he finally spoke. “It’s a system that gives the majority, usually constituted by fifty-one percent of an organized group, the power to make decisions binding upon the whole.”

  “You sound like a dictionary,” I said.

  “Thanks,” said Leo, like there was no higher compliment. “It might help matters if your mom and Aunt Lila acquaint your Aunt Lilly with this principle.”

  “You’re a genius,” I said to Leo.

  “Not really,” said Leo. “A genius wouldn’t have told you about this principle, because if it works, it means you’ll be off skiing in Utah when I return to Faraway for spring break.”

  He had a point there. But honestly, Aunt Lilly can be pretty stubborn, and it’s going to take a lot more than some fancy principle to get her to change her mind.

  Friday, March 6, 8:15 p.m.

  It’s official

  My family is all in. We’re going to Park City, Utah, to go skiing.

  But it was NOT an easy decision. There was a lot of debate all week about what to do. Aunt Lilly wanted everyone to say they wouldn’t go on the trip, in hopes that Gaga would cancel it and stay home and see more doctors.

  Aunt Lilly finally gave in and went along with Mom and Aunt Lila, who both felt Gaga should get to decide what she wants to do. But it wasn’t Leo’s majority rule principle that swayed her. Harry and Amanda did the trick. They both told Aunt Lilly they feel strongly that at age eighty, Gaga should get to make her own decisions.

  Gaga is thrilled that we’re all going, but now she’s stressed. She’s knitting ski caps for all of us. That’s seventeen caps in two weeks, which Gaga says is a lot, even for a super-knitter like herself. I’ve seen the wool she’s using, and it’s neon orange. When I told her it’s kind of bright, she said it’ll make us easy to spot in a snowstorm. No doubt she’s right.

  Aunt Lilly tried to convince Gaga not to knit the caps. She said it would exhaust her. But Gaga sa
id that knitting matching ski caps for her family is the second item on her bucket list, and then she laughed like she thought that was hysterically funny.

  So in two weeks, my whole weird, opinionated, soon-to-be-neon-orange-capped family is going to Utah to go skiing.

  Park City, get ready.

  The true mystery of the world is

  the visible, not the invisible.

  —Oscar Wilde

  Sunday, March 8, 4:45 p.m.

  What’s up with Sophie?

  Whatever’s going on with Sophie is a big mystery. I know she doesn’t have chicken pox, the flu, or scarlet fever. But something’s up, and I have no idea what it is.

  This afternoon, Sophie and I were trying to do some online shopping for ski clothes. But I was the only one shopping. Sophie was off in la-la land. I had to ask her at least six times to pay attention, but even that didn’t work.

  Finally I said, “Sophie, I’m counting on you to make good choices.” I pointed to the two of us. “You and me. We’re both heading to Utah in less than two weeks, and you’re the head shopper here. Help me, help us!” I tried to say it in a funny way. She knows I trust her taste in clothes more than I trust my own. I thought it would make her laugh and focus, but it didn’t.

  She just sat there staring at the screen, even though she wasn’t paying any attention to what was on it. I kept showing her different ski pants and jackets, and no matter what I showed her, she said it was cute. Finally as a test, I showed her a picture of a frog and said, “Do you like these ski pants?”

  “Cute,” she said.

  I closed my laptop. “You just said a frog is cute. Is there something you’re not telling me?” I asked.

  Sophie gave me this weird, blank look. I have no clue what it meant. Then she reached over and opened my laptop. “Let’s just shop, OK?”

  “Sure,” I said. But it was pretty obvious her heart wasn’t in it.

  8:02 p.m.

  Talked to Mom

  All night I’ve been thinking about Sophie and how spaced out she was this afternoon. And it wasn’t the first time it happened. I thought back to the other day at lunch when Harry and I were talking about whether we should go on the trip, and Sophie didn’t even have an opinion. It’s so not like Sophie. She’s usually chatty and upbeat, and she always has a pithy (vocab word) comment to make about whatever subject we’re talking about.

  So tonight as I was helping Mom wash the dishes after dinner, I decided to see if she had any insight into what’s going on. “Hey, Mom,” I said as I dried a casserole dish, “Has Emma talked to you lately about Sophie?”

  My mom and Emma have gotten closer since Sophie and Emma moved in with Gaga and Willy. So I figured if something was up with Sophie, Emma would tell Mom.

  But Mom just shook her head. “Emma hasn’t mentioned a thing. Did Sophie do something unusual?”

  I told Mom how Sophie was zoned out when we were ordering things online this afternoon and about what happened at lunch with Harry.

  “Hmm,” said Mom when I finished. “I wouldn’t read much into two isolated incidents.”

  I dried my hands on a dishtowel. “You’re probably right,” I said.

  But . . . what if she isn’t?

  10:22 p.m.

  Talked to Leo

  When Leo called, I told him what’s been going on with Sophie. “Mom doesn’t think it’s anything,” I said. “But I’m not so sure.” I asked if he thought it sounded like two isolated incidents.

  “As opposed to what? A pattern?” asked Leo.

  I hadn’t really thought about it like that. “I guess,” I said.

  “In that case, I agree with your mom. Two incidents, albeit ones that are indicative of a brain being elsewhere, don’t form a consistent pattern.”

  “How many incidents does it take to make a pattern?” I asked.

  “Good question,” said Leo. “Unfortunately, I don’t have an answer.

  “That’s the best you can do?” I asked.

  Leo paused for a minute, like he was thinking. “I think you’ll know a pattern when you see one.”

  “What if I don’t want to see a pattern? What I want is for Sophie to snap out of whatever funk she’s in and start acting like herself again.”

  “In that case,” said Leo, “why not hope for the best?”

  “Sure,” I said. But it begs the question: Do I need to prepare for the worst?

  Wednesday, March 11

  Talked to Billy

  Billy just called me with his own weird story about Sophie. “Student Government is doing a skit at the assembly the Friday before spring break,” he said. “Today, we were in the middle of rehearsal, and Sophie left.”

  “Where’d she go?” I asked.

  “To take a phone call.”

  I had to laugh. Billy made it sound like Sophie was an important business executive, and the image of her in a suit and heels was kind of silly.

  “It wasn’t funny,” said Billy. “Sophie has the lead role in the skit. There are nine other people in the skit who couldn’t continue rehearsing without her,” he said. When he told me she was gone for fifteen minutes, I realized it really wasn’t funny. Student Government is so important to Sophie, and I know she wouldn’t just walk out of a rehearsal and make everyone else wait for her.

  “Who do you think she was talking to?” I asked Billy.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “When we were done, I asked her, and she wouldn’t tell me. So I asked if something was wrong.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “She said she didn’t want to talk about it,” said Billy.

  “What do you think that means?” I asked.

  Billy let out a breath into the phone. “That means something’s wrong.”

  Leo had said I’ll know a pattern when I see one. I think I see one.

  Friday the 13th, 6:15 p.m.

  At home

  The ski clothes we ordered online arrived today, and for sure, someone put a hex on the items in the box. “You look like a stuffed panda,” June said when I tried on the puffy jacket and pants. Sophie had obviously been off her game when we shopped online.

  “Maybe it will look better if you roll up the pants,” said May.

  I shook my head.

  “What if you tuck the jacket into the pants?” she asked.

  “No one tucks their jacket into their pants.” I know May was trying to be helpful, but I didn’t think I should have to tell her that.

  When Mom saw me, she bit her lip like she was trying not to laugh. The sad truth was that no amount of rolling or tucking was going to make my ski pants look any better.

  And apparently, I’m not the only member of my family who had online shopping troubles. Everyone ordered stuff, and no one was satisfied with everything they got.

  So tomorrow, my whole family is taking a road trip to Mobile to go shopping for ski clothes. It was Gaga’s idea. She says she never thought the online shopping thing was going to work and that she has everything “under control.” When I asked Gaga what she meant by that, she said I’d have to wait and see.

  I’m waiting. But something tells me I’m not going to like what I see.

  I am still determined to be cheerful and to be happy in whatever situation I may be.

  —Martha Washington

  Saturday, March, 14, 5:59 p.m.

  Back from Mobile

  NEWSFLASH: My parents allowed me to ride in a car driven by Harry from Faraway to Mobile. He’s seventeen, so in my opinion, that makes him perfectly qualified to drive the fifty-five minutes it takes to get from Faraway to Mobile. But he doesn’t have a lot of experience on the highway, so when he said he was driving Amanda and asked if Sophie and I could go with them, I was pretty shocked when Emma and my mom both said yes.

  Emma is normally really protective of Sophie. So when Sophie said she wanted to ride with Harry, I thought for sure Emma was going to say something about how Harry is an inexperienced driver or that it would be nice if she
and Sophie rode together with Gaga and Willy. But Emma just said OK, almost as if it was a battle she was choosing not to fight.

  It didn’t leave Mom with much of a choice when Harry asked if it was OK if I rode with them too. “Sure,” she said. But I was pretty sure she only said it because she didn’t want to make it seem like she was the only one who didn’t trust Harry.

  As Amanda, Sophie, Harry, and I drove from Faraway to Mobile, we talked about all sorts of things.

  We tried to guess what the surprise would be that Gaga promised she had waiting for all of us when we get to the store. We placed bets on how many days during the trip my mom, Aunt Lilly, and Aunt Lila would wear matching ski sweaters. And we joked around about how funny our parents would look in their long underwear. When Harry started describing what each of the grown-ups would look like, Amanda and I were cracking up, but Sophie was quiet. She was busy texting.

  “Are you texting your boyfriend?” Amanda asked Sophie. When Sophie didn’t respond, Amanda reached over and plucked Sophie’s phone from her hand. “Ooh! Whatever you’re writing must be juicy!” she said.

  Amanda probably shouldn’t have taken Sophie’s phone, but it was clear from her tone that she was just messing around. Unfortunately, Sophie didn’t see it that way.

  She snatched her phone from Amanda and shoved it into her pocket. “It’s none of your business who I’m texting!” Her voice had a sharp edge to it. She turned toward the window like she’d rather look at the fields of cows we were passing than anyone else in the car. A long silence settled over the four of us.

  Amanda finally broke it. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “No big deal,” Sophie mumbled. But she just continued to stare out the window. Clearly, whoever she was texting with and whatever she was texting about was a bigger deal than she was letting on.

  As we pulled into the parking lot of the ski store, I thought about trying to talk to Sophie, but it would have been hard to have a heart-to-heart then and there. Plus, as soon as we walked into the store, Gaga said it was time for our surprise. “Larry, we’re here!” she shouted as we walked inside.

  Larry, the manager, magically materialized. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said.