When We Were Sisters. Emilie Richards

at least one of my children would board a school bus today and not require a personal chauffeur.

      Except that, of course, that would mean Nik would be here alone after I left with Pet. Could I trust my increasingly rebellious son to get to his bus stop on time. Or at all? I really didn’t know.

      “What do you want for breakfast?” I asked on my way out of his room.

      “What I always have.”

      “And that would be?”

      “What Mom fixes.”

      “Then I’ll fix whatever I feel like fixing unless you give me a better clue.”

      “Waffles.”

      Robin had pointed out the frozen waffles in our freezer. “You want sausage or bacon?”

      “I don’t eat pork. Do you know what pig farms do to the environment?”

      “You can tell me all about it some other time.”

      Downstairs I found the waffles, read the directions and slid them into the toaster. I took out cereal and milk, bananas and berries, juice. I located the syrup and butter, and had everything on the counter by the time Pet arrived wearing something that stretched to her ankles under the skirt. I hoped she didn’t strip off whatever it was as soon as she was out of sight.

      As I got bowls and plates my cell phone buzzed. Pet had already informed me she liked toast and strawberry jam with her cereal, so I had popped out Nik’s waffles to replace them with bread.

      “Can you pencil in a breakfast meeting first thing?” Buff said without the usual pleasantries. He named three other attorneys on our floor and a local coffee shop. “Everybody else can be there.”

      I did calculations in my head. I had to dress and drive Pet to school. I had to figure out what to do about Nik and whether I could safely leave him here to do what he was supposed to. Then I had to drive into work. Since that would be later than usual, I would be hampered by rush hour.

      Trying to do the impossible wouldn’t win me points with Buff, because clearly I would fail. And in any law office, it’s all about results.

      I told him the truth, then I finished with, “But I’ll try to get there by the end of the meeting and someone can catch me up.”

      “Robin left this morning?”

      “It may take a day or two to get into the swing of our new schedule.”

      “We’ll do what we can without you today.”

      I didn’t miss the slight emphasis on “today.”

      I called upstairs to Nik, who didn’t answer.

      “He’s always slow,” Pet said through a mouthful of toast. “Sometimes Mommy has to go up and shoo him downstairs.”

      “Does your mother leave him here to catch his bus if she has to take you to school?”

      “I don’t know. She always makes sure I’m on time for my bus.”

      “You’re old enough to take on that responsibility, Pet. You can set your alarm.”

      “Like you set yours this morning?” She cocked her head in question.

      “Let’s just pretend that once upon a time you missed the bus. Let’s say you fell and skinned your knee, and by the time it was all washed and bandaged and you had changed your clothes, the bus had left without you.”

      She waited.

      “Now your mom has to take you to school, right?”

      She shrugged.

      “So, would she leave Nik here to finish getting breakfast and out to the bus on time?”

      “Are you kidding?”

      I had been afraid of that. I tried to sound sure of myself, responsible, in control. “Everybody’s going to have to pull their own weight from now on.”

      “You mean like deciding what we can wear to school and stuff?”

      Pet had always been so much easier to parent than Nik that I don’t think I’d ever noticed that under that sweet smile a demon was lurking.

      Nik slouched down the stairs just as Pet finished her cereal and went to brush her teeth.

      “I’m going to drive your sister to school. Then I’ll come back and make sure you’re all set,” I told him.

      He put his hand over his heart and widened his eyes. “Gee, you’ll trust me for the what, twenty minutes it takes to get there and back?”

      Since I didn’t trust myself to answer, I left him to eat alone, and went upstairs to shave and dress for what was clearly going to be a very long day.

11

      Robin

      Late to work. Sorry you didn’t get me up before you left. I assume Pet’s not allowed to wear a short skirt over bare legs. K

      As love notes go, Kris’s email sucked. I slipped my cell phone in the pocket of my jeans in case more recriminations were on the way. There was no telling what Kris was really sorry about on this first morning of our new life. That we hadn’t said a fond goodbye? That he had overslept and wanted me to take responsibility for that as well as everything else?

      And Pet? The handwriting was already on that wall. Our daughter was testing her father. I doubted this morning would be the last time.

      Switching gears from loyal wife to career photographer, I felt disoriented, and I stopped to regroup. I think I’ve forgotten how overwhelming an airport can be. I should remember. In college I chased internships and visited Cecilia wherever she happened to be. After graduation I took a job with a charitable foundation that required me to travel internationally to photograph good works and horrifying tragedies.

      These days I rarely fly without family. A few times I’ve visited Cecilia on my own, but mostly when I leave town my children are with me and we’re heading off on vacation. Kris joins us when and if he can, but I can’t remember the last time the two of us went somewhere by ourselves.

      Newark Liberty International Airport reminds me of a science fiction space station or Tomorrowland at Disney World. Glass and lights, sky-high ceilings floating overhead and shining terrazzo floors underfoot. As I walked toward the gate where I was to meet Cecilia and everyone flying with us, I pretended I was on my way to accept a new command: six earth years exploring outer space with the crew of the Starship Enterprise. When we were growing up Cecilia and I watched Star Trek: The Next Generation whenever we were allowed to. Space catastrophes are often more palatable than real life.

      I had been surprised to find I would be flying to Newark to meet the others before continuing on to Pittsburgh, and then to Uniontown for the night. Tomorrow we drive from there to Randolph Furnace in Fayette County, south of the city, which is Cecilia’s birthplace. I’m not sure why I wasn’t booked directly to Pittsburgh, but I’m sure this trip will be filled with surprises.

      The usual number of people were milling at the gate when I arrived, camera bag hanging from my shoulder and backpack carefully balanced. I’m an out-of-practice sherpa, so I was happy to take a seat and set everything on the floor in front of me.

      I was adjusting my load when a man took the seat beside me. I was so glad to be temporarily free of paraphernalia that I didn’t pay attention until he spoke.

      “Cecilia sent me your bio. You’re Robin Lenhart, aren’t you?”

      I realized Mick Bollard himself was sitting beside me. I smiled and offered my hand. “I’m such a groupie—I know who you are.”

      His hand was broad and warm. “It looks like we’re the first ones here.”

      “I had no idea you’d be on this