Angie’s timer dinged. She walked across the front lawn, which was manicured to a golf-green perfection. Picking the blades of grass off her shoes Angie knocked on the door. It was immediately answered.
“Angie!” Lucy called.
“May I come in?”
“Please do,” Lucy said, and Angie stepped inside.
Two skinny floor rugs lay side by side in the hallway. Angie stood by the door. She could see into the living room, where matching white armchairs were pushed against the far wall. Both rooms were without coffee mugs or newspapers or anything accidental. It did not look like anyone lived there. It looked like an advertisement.
“Can you take your shoes off?” Lucy asked.
“Um …”
“Please.”
“Give me a minute,” Angie said. She sat on the floor and lifted her feet into the air.
“Come on, Angie, you’re a big girl now.”
“Obviously you’ve never been pregnant.”
“It’s not too late,” Lucy said. She crossed her arms. Angie kept her feet in the air. The effort strained her stomach muscles.
“If you want them off you’ll have to do it,” Angie said.
“So, what? You never take your shoes off?”
“It’s just hard.”
“You sleep in those shoes?”
“You can’t just help me out here?”
“Not if you can’t help yourself!”
“Fine,” Angie yelled. She wedged off her left shoe with her right foot. It flew into the air and landed upside down on the left rug. She did the same with the other shoe, which landed on the right rug. Lucy collected both shoes. She set them inside the hall closet, next to her own. Then she reached out her hand and helped Angie to her feet.
“The hard part is getting them back on.”
“Well, maybe I can help you with that,” Lucy said.
The two sisters walked into the living room. Lucy sat in the left armchair. Angie lowered herself into the other one. She watched her sister, knowing that Lucy would be trying to predict what she was about to say. Angie waited some moments. She waited a few more. Then she just came out with it.
“I went to see the Shark!” Angie said. This was the name the Weird siblings routinely used when referring to their grandmother.
“Good God why?”
“Didn’t expect that, did you?”
“No. I did not.”
“She says that she’s on her deathbed.”
“Again?”
“I know, I know.”
“Is she still on Blake Street?”
“No. She’s in the hospital. Vancouver and District. Room 4-206.”
“Do tell.”
“Don’t get excited. She doesn’t seem sick at all. She does however claim that she will die on her birthday.”
“Very dramatic.”
“She was pretty convincing, Lucy.”
“You’re the only one who still falls for the bleeding nose thing.”
“She also claims—”
“It’s not as if we all couldn’t do it. So handy for getting out of phys. ed., remember?”
“She also claims that she gave us all special powers when we were born.”
“Beautiful.”
“At the time she thought they were blessings. But now she realizes that they were curses.”
“Blursings!”
“Let me finish—”
“What did you get?”
“Listen to me!”
“What does she claim to have given you?”
“I can always forgive.”
“And me?”
“You’re never lost.”
“She always liked you better.”