"Then what's the rest of the secret?" When she didn't answer, I apologized. "You don't have to tell me. I didn't mean to press you."
"I have to think about the rest some more. Like you said, I have to make a choice."
We were nearing the exit. I offered Karen silence and she took it. I knew this was a tough problem for her to face. While her feelings for Mary Ellen were mixed, I sensed she felt an obligation to the friendless girl. I turned a familiar corner and we arrived at my childhood home.
Suzie and husband Ben greeted us with their usual enthusiasm and we chitchatted our way through a lunch. My sister and I spent the afternoon showing Karen all the old haunts and highlights of our growing-up neighborhood and town. My daughter reveled in our laughs and stories and wanted details of every place we pointed out. She wasn't bored by our what-ever-happened-to-so-and-so questions, and instead locked on our conversation with rapt interest.
We went out for a supper pizza at a remembered haunt. After the meal Ben asked who was ready for ice-cream. Neither Suzie nor I felt it went well with the beer we'd consumed so Karen and Ben left alone, in search of the perfect banana split.
Back at the house Suzie and I continued to reduce an ample supply of beer while we reminisced. It was fun to sit with my sister, resurrecting long forgotten memories, awoken from a twenty-year burial.
"We had great times here, didn't we?" I asked.
"We turned out pretty damn well, little sister."
"God, I do love you," I said. "I always have, always will. We know each other so well it scares me."
"You're the first person I ever remember, even before mom and dad, you were there, in the next bed."
"Or the same bed when there was thunder and lightning!" I answered with a smile.
"Why did we stop talking like this?" Suzie replied. "I miss it to tears. We used to be able to tell each other everything, things we never, ever would mention to anyone else in our wildest dreams. God! When I think of the intimate things I used to tell you! What made us stop?"
"I did. What I did to Ma . . . or didn't do. That's why I feel like such a shit; for not being there when she needed me."
Suzie let the comment stand as an acknowledged truth. She turned to me.
"You were a shit, and we both know it. You should have had the guts to toss your bastard husband out the door, but it's history now. I don't love you a bit less for it but it kills me to see guilt tearing you apart." She hugged me in a bear hug.