part 3

The gloriousness of the following morning was only highlighted by the delightful combo of chintz and porcelain cats that typified the spirit of the bed and breakfast we spent the night in. Equally glorious was my sister fully dressed in her "casual" attire- dark rinse straight leg jeans (do not get her started on skinny jeans which are in her opinion for tween gay boys and skanks), a floaty cream top,a charcoal cardigan accented with pink ribbon, ever present pearl earrings- a gift from our parents when she got into Oxford and patent leather fuchsia pumps.
"I don't know what is more terrifying all the chintz or that you think that outfit is Colorado appropriate. Also buddy lets turn down the intensity of your expression by like eighty percent." I say turning around to get more sleep.
Marcia snatches up the blankets away from me "No can do buddy" she stresses the Americanism with a horrible approximation of an American accent "I just got off the phone with Kevin. We have to go pick up the keys, rent a car, buy some crap to make the house liveable, enrol you in whatever sub par secondary school they have in this town. We have to leave now because I want to get all this done so we can be in our new house and have a nice cup of tea before bed" As she speaks she opens my suitcase and pulls out my clothes, shoves a towel at me and not so gently ushers me to the bathroom.
"It's called a high school" I mutter as she shuts the door.
I shower quickly and get dressed into the outfit Marcia picked for me knowing better than to argue with her when she has that look in her eyes.
"How are we going to get to all these places?" I ask meekly accepting the cup of coffee and bran muffin she hurriedly passes me as we exit the hotel. I am not sure how she got them.
"There" she brushes the hair off her face and nods at a cab parked in front. We enter the cab and I watch as Marcia pulls out her dreaded purple Asprey organizer. Typical first born type A personality my sister has never met a problem she couldn't organize into a manageable size. There are no problems in her world only opportunities for lists. If I sound bitter it is because she also becomes unbearably condascending when that thing is in her hand.
"Okay, I was thinking we should just get try to settle on what we want the house to look like once we get into the space- clean quick decisions. What do you think?" she asks briefly looking up from the list she is making. The cab is already headed to Kevin's house. I smile as i look away from the window.
She rolls her eyes at my expression "What?".
"I was just thinking you sound like Mum- which is why I let you handle her when she was re-decorating"
"Oh God- remember when she re did the kitchen after Daddy took that job without telling her?"
"You mean the time when the granite tops had to be changed seven times- I really was very impressed with her clinical decision making" I joke nodding solemnly.
Marcia chokes out her laugh and when I look over she has tears in her eyes. We have been avoiding speaking about our parents in anything but the most abstract terms since the funeral. I look away since I know that comforting her would only set her off.
"I think we will be much more decisive- we keep whatever granite tops are in the house now. Even if they are absolutely hideous. There. One decision down. Tick it off your list please" I command with an imperious wave of my hand. She rolls her eyes as she does and the moment is diffused.
The taxi first stops at the car rental office. We quickly install ourselves in a hybrid toyota (my penance for being driven around in my parent's range rover). Kevin's office is nearby and he helpfully points out some of the town's landmarks as we head over to the house. It becomes clear that getting lost in Everwood will never be that much of a problem. There is a Main Street with shops, restaurants and offices, a train station, a city hall and a small shopping arcade. 5 minutes away from main street Kevin pulls up the drive way of an adorable colonial house. It is white with green shutters and sits on a little slope with a huge oak tree in the front yard. Nothing could be further away from the town house in Belgravia and country home in Dorset where we grew up.
"Wow- it is really American" I comment and begin to hum the theme song to "Seventh Heaven" as we exit the car and enter the house.
"I'm sorry, I have another appointment I have to rush to. Here are your keys. Please don't hesitate to call if you need anything. Here is a celebratory fruit basket. Welcome home."
"No problem. We should be thanking you- for this amazing house and the fruit. Where would you recommend for shopping for furniture and linen and that sort of thing?" Marcia asks as she follows him to the door.
"There is a giant mall with an Ikea, bed, bath and beyond- cherry creek it's on the outskirts of Denver and should be on your GPS. Good luck with everything!"
The next few hours are a blur. We drop off my transcripts and a utility bill and after a very cursory interview with the headmaster I am enrolled at school and due to start in a week's time. We drive to the mall which is the biggest thing I have EVER shopped in. I have to give credit to Marcia and her list it included where to buy nice sheets and towels but cheap and cheerful cutlery and crockery. The only point of contention had been the couch- our mother had been devoted to a very English sensibility which meant beige and quiet understatement I thought that a departure from this with a bold eggplant corner sofa unit was in order which we could then accent with splashes of colour with bold print armchairs. Marcia laughed at my idea. A ten minute squabble ensued. Eventually we compromised on a cream corner sofa with dozens of insane throw pillows completing flaunting my mother's philosophy of less is more. We got a rug to place in front of the fireplace.
It was nearly three o'clock and we had been moving non stop since we woke up. I was starving "Hey Marcia- can we get something to eat and call it a day? I am exhausted and we have all the essentials and we should be home when all the stuff gets delivered."
"I'm surprised you lasted this long", she smiles understandingly she knows how much I hate shopping "let's head home".
Marcia and I have always had a fluid understanding of home. Although my father's work for the foreign office had kept us based in London for the past five years when we were younger we had moved around more. We had lived in Lisbon, Cairo, Nairobi, Brussels and finally Paris before settling back to my father's home town of London. My parent's owe a lot to my father's work in the diplomatic service they only met because my father was posted to my mother's home town of Nairobi. She had just returned home after graduating from Radcliffe and she thought she was back for good but she fell in love with my Dad and hitched her wagon to his.
Once we get back to the house I check my email and decide to change my location on facebook to Everwood, Colorado and reply to a few messages from friends accusing my sister and I of insanity. The tone of these messages ranges from incredulous to hurt. I close my laptop after composing a few cheery responses. There is no way to explain it to them. They take it personally that we are leaving but we just couldn't stay. Not when everything reminded us of them. Not when the ridiculous amount of tragedy threatened to suck us down and never let us up. They don't get it but leaving was all that we could do at a time when inaction would have been disastrous. The only way to take charge was to change everything.
I snap myself out of it. A few years ago I spent some time in the hospital and it was then I realised that self pity is really self destructive and boring. I go outside for a walk. Two houses down I notice that another family is moving in. Their house is slightly larger and older. The woman directing the traffic flow of boxes and furniture notices my staring.
"Hi neighbour!" she calls out. Her voice is friendly and I am drawn to how motherly she seems.
"Hi", I reply as soon as I am close enough to talk without yelling "How is the unpacking going?"
"You know how it is- we lived in our old house for 15 years so we should be settled here in about..say fifteen years." She laughs.
"I sympathise- actually we moved in yesterday, just two doors down" I gesture to our house.
"Really? Where from?"
"London, how about you?"
"Minnesota. My husband Gary, My two sons and me. Actually they are about your age- How old are you?"
"Sixteen. And I live with my sister Marcia. I'm Aisha" I introduce myself extending my arm.
"Tina. Nice to meet you."
I can tell she is needed to supervise the unpacking so I begin to extricate myself from the conversation. "Lovely to meet you too but I don't want to keep you from unpacking so I'll just go."
I begin heading down the driveway.
"Wait" I stop waiting to hear what she wants "Could you do me a favour?" She asks I can tell she is nervous.
"Of course- What do you need?"
"It's my son. He needs to be occupied while we set up the house. He's well, he's blind and maybe you could go hang out for a bit. No pressure but it would really help me out. He's your age...." she trails off uncertainly.
"Sure- I haven't met anyone my age here yet I would love to hang. Does he want to be set up on a play date by his mum though?" I am extremely intrigued and have nothing else to do.
"Probably not so we could just keep that between us" She winks.
I smile "Where is he?"