by Kate Brian
Teagan barely heard her. She stood, placed the jewelry box inside her purse, and put it down on the chair. Now that she knew who the girl was, there was no looking away. Teagan stepped over in front of her and took in her beautiful blue eyes and smooth skin. She had Karen's hair and nose and her dad's mouth. Teagan knew if she saw the girl smile, she would see a replica of her very own grin. Although with the ill-fitting black sweater and baggy black pants, she clearly hadn't inherited Teagan's sense of style.
"I can't believe I have a sister," she said.
"Can we go now?" the little girl asked suddenly. "I hate this."
Teagan's face fell.
"Have some respect for your sister," Karen scolded.
197
The girl crossed her arms. "She hated me," she said. "She was so mean to me."
"Honey--was
"No! Seriously, Mom. Don't you even know that's why I always hide in my room when she comes over?" she said. "She was scary."
"Ugh!" Teagan cried, indignant.
"No, it's true," the ghost told her. "I was like hell on wheels around her. Around everyone, actually."
"But I've always wanted a sister," Teagan said, stunned. "How could I possibly treat her that badly?"
"Because by the time she was old enough to know you, it was your only way," the ghost said. "You never appreciated her."
"She never acted like I was her sister," the girl said sadly. "She only ever acted like I was some freak who irritated her and--was
"Tree! That's enough!" Karen whisper-yelled.
Teagan flinched. "They named her Tree?"
"I know," the ghost said, rolling her eyes.
"I'm gonna wait in the car," Tree said, grabbing her bag and stalking out.
Teagan watched her go, devastated. She should have been best friends with that girl. She should have taken her shopping and gone for facials with her and hosted sleepovers. Instead the girl clearly hated her with every fiber of her being.
"This sucks," Teagan said.
"Tell me about it," the ghost replied, glancing at her own corpse.
"I guess we should go too," Teagan's father said, looking around the deserted room. "It doesn't look like anyone else is going to show up."
Teagan took in the emptiness of the place for the first time
198
and shivered. "No one came?" she asked, her voice a near whimper.
"Who was going to come? All the people I've bitch- slapped over the years?" the ghost asked.
"This isn't funny!" Teagan shouted. "You're dead! We're dead! And everyone hates us! We were an awful, horrible, sad, mean person. No one even came to our funeral!"
Teagan's father pushed himself shakily out of his chair and Karen slid her arm through his.
Desperation shook Teagan from the inside out. She felt to the very core of her soul that she couldn't let her father leave this room. That she couldn't let him go. Yet there was nothing she could do about it. It was over. He was alive and she was dead and clearly neither of them had ever said a word to each other. Neither of them had ever made their feelings clear.
"Dad! No!" Teagan shouted, tears spilling over. "Don't leave me here! I need you. I ... I love you, Dad. I don't want to be dead!"
He and Karen approached the casket slowly and Teagan watched as her father leaned forward, squeezed his eyes shut, and kissed the cold forehead of his daughter.
"Good-bye, my sweet girl," he said, tears wetting the corners of his eyes.
"Dad! No! Come on!" Teagan cried. "Don't say good-bye. Take me home, Dad! Please! Don't leave me here! I just want to go home!"
Her father turned his back on her, slipped his arm around Karen's shoulders, and walked out.
"Dad! Daddy!" Teagan wailed. "Dad! Come back!"
"Teagan -- was the ghost said.
199
"Shut up!" Teagan shouted, near hysterics. "I want him back! This isn't fair! Dad!"
But he was gone. Teagan deflated completely. She collapsed over the end of her own casket and bawled uncontrollably, her chest heaving up and down. Her fingertips clawed at the slick silver surface of the box, making awful squealing noises as they gripped and slipped.
"This can't be it," she said through her tears. Her heart was racked with pain. "This can't be how I end up. I'm supposed to have a future! I can't die like this! I can't be all alone!"
She felt a hand on her back and looked up into her own eyes. The ghost's face was wet with tears. She handed over Teagan's purse.
"Teagan," the ghost said regretfully. "It's time to go."
"Go? Go where?" Teagan asked.
"It's gonna get worse before it gets better," the ghost told her.
"Worse?" Teagan croaked. "How can it possibly get worse than this?"
The ghost touched Teagan's shoulder grimly, her eyes filled with sorrow. "This time, you'll have to go alone. . . .was
200
201
Upcoming Sweet Sixteen Party
Transcript 4, cont'd.
Reporter: Melissa Bradshaw, Senior Editor, Rosewood Prep Sentinel
MB: So, you mentioned presents. Anything specific you're hoping to unwrap that night?
TP: You're not really going there, are you? I mean, you did listen to the other kid's tape by now.
MB: Let me rephrase. What material goods might you like to take home that night? What's on Teagan Phillips's wish list?
TP: Wow. Got a few hours?
MB: (laughs) How about a top five?
TP: Okay, let's see. I want the new Dior bag-- the one that's supposedly not available until the fall but that I know certain friends of my father are able to acquire. I need those new Seven leather jeans with the studding down the seam. So cute. I've gotta get a whole new set of skis, poles, boots--the works--for Vail next year. My stuff is so last year.
MB: I don't mean to interrupt, but I thought
202
you said real women don't do sports or something.
TP: Skiing doesn't really count. Does it?
MB: I'm sure the Olympic ski team would beg to differ.
TP: Oh. Right. Touche.
MB: I think you have two more top-five gifts.
TP: Two more? All right. I want a sixty-inch plasma screen for my room so my friends and I can have proper movie screenings without any of the staff traipsing through. And I definitely need a bigger bathroom. You barely have room to properly blow-dry in there.
MB: I'm sorry, you want someone to give you a new bathroom?
TP: Well, half my dad's friends are in construction.
MB: (under her breath) At least you're not asking for your own helicopter.
TP: Oh! That would be so cool! Can I change my answer?
203
Teagan found herself standing, alone and trembling, in a very familiar room. She wiped at her eyes and took a few shaky steps away from the wall to place her hands on the back of a dining room chair. She knew every corner of this room as if she had never left it.
"Oh God," she said aloud, her breath quickening. "This is my . . . house." The house she and her father had moved out of after her mother had died.
She looked around for the ghost, but she wasn't there. Why hadn't she come along? Didn't she want to see this?
Hugging herself, Teagan slowly looked around, taking it all in. She saw the sideboard full of her grandmother's Tiffany china. The Mission-style table and chairs her father and mother had picked up on a trip to North Carolina. The stain on the woven rug where she had spilled grape juice as a child. The thick green curtains she had hidden behind for her father's surprise thirty-fifth birthday party. She could see the
204
nose and fingerprints on the windowpanes where she used to press her face and hands, looking out to the street, waiting for her father to come home from work.
The dining room was decorated for a party. A pink-and- white paper tablecloth covered the table, and pink Barbie plates were set up at every chair. There were pink plastic knives and forks, clear plastic cups, and t
ons and tons of confetti. Streamers clung to the light fixture at the center of the room and draped across to every corner, secured with Scotch tape. There were pink and white balloons tied to every chair. At the head of the table, two place settings were topped by two gold crowns. One for Teagan. One for Emily.
"Mommy! Mommy!"
Teagan's heart seized and she whirled around. Across the entryway in the living room, hundreds and hundreds of ribbons curled down from hundreds and hundreds of balloons. A dozen or more kids sat in a circle where the coffee table would normally be, sifting through crumpled wrapping paper and boxes of toys. Parents milled about with drinks and cameras, looking on with amused pride. There was laughter, screeching, talking, and some kind of kiddie music playing in the background.
Suddenly Teagan saw herself around age six run across the open doorway, brown curls streaming behind her, and disappear on the other side. The little girl was followed seconds later by a tall boy with choppy brown hair. Emily's brother, Gary, around age eight.
Teagan's pulse started to rush so loudly in her ears, it was deafening. This couldn't be the year she thought it was. This couldn't be happening. She had wished for it so many times over the past ten years, the very thought that she was about to
205
see what she thought she was about to see made her quake from the tips of her ears all the way down to her toes.
Somehow, she had no idea how, Teagan made herself move. She stepped, barefoot, onto the cool, smooth wood surface of the entryway and instantly remembered sliding across it in socked feet for hours with Emily, slamming sideways into the door and laughing the whole way. She glanced at the coatrack next to the window and saw her father's old trench hanging there next to her mother's white rain jacket. Her heart pounded more and more frantically with each step. It seemed like an eternity passed before she was standing at the doorway to the living room. But then she was there and time stopped.
"Mom," Teagan whispered, all of her breath leaving her.
Her mother was there. Right there. Sitting in the chair and a half, surrounded by ribbon curls that bounced around her shoulders. Her blond hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and she wore a light green sweater with beading all around the collar. Her green eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled at the crazy present opening that was happening at her feet. Her face was thinner than Teagan remembered, but what was most overwhelming was how very much she looked like Teagan did today. The same high cheekbones. The same wide forehead. The same pointy chin. The chin that Teagan would adore from here on out. She had never realized she had gotten that from her mom.
I can't take this, Teagan thought. Her heart actually felt like it was going to burst.
"Mom?" Teagan said, her voice cracking as she stepped into the room. Her mother didn't look up, but that didn't stop Teagan. God, she had imagined this moment so many times. What she would say if she had one more chance. Now that it
206
was here, all she wanted to do was crawl into her mother's lap and hug her. All she wanted to do was sob all over her mother's shoulder. If she could just touch her. Just once . . .
"Mommy! Look!"
Little Teagan jumped up from the circle of kids, a hot pink boa from a dress-up set she had received as a gift wrapped around her neck. She raced right past Teagan and hurled herself into her mother's lap. Her mother let out an "oof" but laughed and gathered the little girl into her arms. Gary quickly followed, hovering near the arm of the chair and saying nothing.
As her mother smothered little giggling Teagan with kisses and hugs, Teagan's heart welled up with envy. That was her mother. Those were her hugs. That kid in her lap was so clueless. She didn't even know the woman was about to die. But Teagan had been waiting for this moment for ten years. She deserved this moment.
"Lauren?"
Teagan's mother looked up and Teagan followed her gaze. Her father was standing in the opposite doorway, the one that led to the kitchen. He looked almost exactly the same, just a little less wrinkled around the eyes. He and Teagan's mother exchanged a silent look of understanding and then Teagan's mom placed little Teagan on the floor. She was wearing a light blue T-shirt with daisies embroidered around the neckline and a matching skirt with a daisy trim. Classic mom-picked outfit. The lady did love Teagan in blue.
"Why don't you and Emily go get your picture taken with Barbie?" her mother suggested, whispering in little Teagan's right ear.
Teagan felt a shiver go down her right side at the very thought of her mom being that close to her.
207
"'Kay. Emily!" little Teagan shouted.
Up popped six-year-old Emily, braids, freckles, and all, from the floor, where she was busy playing with a Crayola arts set. She wore pink overalls, a pink-and-white-striped shirt, and pink sneakers. Little Teagan held out her hand and Emily took it. Together they picked their way over boxes and bows to the teenager standing in the corner, dressed up as Genie Barbie, posing with little Jennifer Robbins for parental photos. Gary, of course, trailed behind.
Jennifer stepped away from Barbie and in stepped Teagan and Emily to pose with the impersonator. Teagan still had that picture somewhere. At least she thought she might.
Teagan could not for the life of her figure out what she was doing here. The ghost had told her it was going to get worse before it got better, but this was great. Maybe she couldn't hug or talk to her mother, but she was right there in the flesh. Teagan's lifelong wish was coming true. The one thing she wanted more than all the material crap on her birthday list combined. How could this be bad?
Teagan's mother got up and crossed the room to her dad. Teagan pushed herself away from the wall and followed the couple as her father slipped his arm around her mom's shoulders and held her tight. They walked through the little entryway to the kitchen, past the pantry and the door to the basement.
"Are you sure you're up to this?" Teagan's father whispered.
"I'm sure," her mom replied.
Then they all stepped into the kitchen together. Two parents and their invisible future daughter. Sitting at the table on the far side of the kitchen, hunched over and in tears, was Marcia Lupe, Teagan's nanny.
208
"I sorry, Miss Phillips," Marcia said, shredding a soaked tissue all over the table. "I so, so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you or Mr. Phillips."
"What's going on?" Teagan asked. Of course, no one answered.
Teagan's mother sighed and sat down diagonally across from Marcia. She placed her thin, frail hand on top of Marcia's healthier one. Teagan's mom attempted to look into the older lady's eyes, but she ducked her head so far down it was impossible.
"We're not angry, Marcia," Teagan's mother said in a soothing voice. "I just want you to talk to me. What happened? Why did you take the money?"
Teagan blinked. Money? What money?
"I know it's only for emergencies," Marcia said, sniffling. "But I thought I'd be able to pay it right back."
"What happened, Marcia?" Teagan's mother asked patiently.
"It's Tomas's school," Marcia said, wiping her eyes. "They took part of his scholarship away. He didn't do anything wrong," she said quickly. "They said there were budget cuts. He needed five hundred dollars for rest of semester or he couldn't come back next year. Senior year! I only had three hundred. I took the money for the other two."
Teagan's mother and father looked at each other. There was so much empathy in her mother's eyes that Teagan welled up all over again. She couldn't believe this. She couldn't believe that Marcia had stolen from her parents. Part of her was waiting for them to freak out all over the place, but another part of her was wishing and hoping they wouldn't. This was Marcia. She needed Marcia.
209
"I get a second job to pay you back, but the first paycheck won't come for two weeks," Marcia said, tearing up all over again. "I'm so sorry; I know you will have to fire me."
Teagan's mother squeezed Marcia's hand. "Oh, Marcia. We're not going to fire you," she
said.
"What?" Marcia asked, shocked.
"I just don't understand why you didn't come to us instead of taking the cookie jar money," Teagan's mom said. "You know I would have given you an advance. Especially if you needed something for Tomas. I'm a mother too, you know," she added with a smile.
Marcia smiled back. She stood up and the two women hugged.
"Next time just talk to us, okay?" Teagan's mother said to her. "I understand how hard things can get. And Teagan loves you. You can't leave us. Especially not now."
"Teagan is a lucky girl to have a mother who loves her so much."
Teagan's mother bit her lip. She was clearly fighting back tears. "Thank you."
Marcia's eyes welled with tears for Teagan's mother. "Thank you. Both of you. I won't forget."
As Marcia left the room, Teagan's dad enveloped her mother in his arms. He kissed her forehead and looked down into her eyes. There was no mistaking his expression--total and complete love.
Teagan's mother smiled in reply just as the doorbell rang. "I'll get that," her father said. Then he gave his wife another kiss and walked out.
Teagan's mother took a deep breath and started for the living
210
room. She was just passing by Teagan and the ghost when she suddenly wavered and her knees seemed to give out.
"Mom!" Teagan shouted, petrified. She lunged for her mother, but her mom slapped her hands into the wall, stopping herself before she could fall to the ground.
"Mommy?" Teagan heard herself say, tears stinging her eyes.
Slowly Teagan's mother turned her head. She stood up and looked right at Teagan. They were the exact same height. Teagan was looking directly into her mother's green eyes.
"Omigod, Mom. You see me," Teagan said, a tear slipping down her cheek.
Then her mother's brow creased in confusion and she shook her head. Smoothing her sweater down, she turned around and walked back into the living room. Teagan, with nothing left to do, leaned against the wall and sank down to the floor in tears, dropping her purse on the tile. The pain in her chest was unbearable. If she could have ripped her own heart out to stop it, she would have.
"Okay, I get it now," Teagan said, pressing the heel of her hand into her forehead as she sobbed. "You're trying to show me that Mom was a good person who didn't fire people and I'm just an asshole, right? Because I got Emily's aunt fired."
