The Pretty One: A Novel About Sisters Read online

  “Right. Excuse me,” said Olympia, rising from the table.

  Each of her legs seemed to weigh a thousand pounds as she mounted the stairs. Closing the door to the kids’ bathroom, she sat down on the toilet seat, pulled an emergency pack of American Spirits out of her handbag, yanked open the window (so Sadie’s and Aiden’s monogrammed towels wouldn’t reek), and then, her hands trembling, lit up. Surely she was just being paranoid. Lola and Jeff looked nothing alike. Or did they? Flipping from one disturbing thought to another, she thought of Patrick and wondered what he was doing just then and if he ever thought about her, ever missed her, ever realized the heartache he’d caused her. She also thought of Perri and how crazy she was to be throwing away this life of bounty, this life that Olympia actually wanted. There, she’d finally admitted it to herself. She was tired of going it alone, tired of pretending to be brave and sleek and free of neediness, like some honey trap in one of her beloved John le Carré spy novels. She was getting too old to keep up the act. Her eyes filled with tears, but she kept them at bay for as long as she could. Then she couldn’t anymore and began to weep—not loudly, but apparently loudly enough for Mike to hear.

  Whether he was worried and had come to check on her, or just happened to be walking by, she never knew. But there was a knock on the door. “I’m in here,” Olympia called out in a thin voice, as she instinctively stood up, lifted the toilet seat, and pitched her cigarette into the bowl. As if she were a teenager about to be grounded, even though, while she was growing up, Bob and Carol regularly pretended not to notice the smoke that billowed out of Gus’s bedroom and hers. (Even in middle school, Perri was violently antismoking.)

  “Pia?” came the tentative response. “You okay?”

  By then she was crying too hard to answer.

  Mike cracked the door, peered at her in silence for a few moments, then took a step in and closed the door behind him. From there, he slowly walked over to where she now sat, slumped on the floor beneath the window. “Hey,” he said. Squatting before her, he laid a tentative hand on her upper arm.

  “I’m okay—thanks,” Olympia finally choked out, both embarrassed to have been discovered in such a pathetic state and, in truth, thankful for the sympathy. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. A fluttery breeze danced in circles over their heads.

  “You don’t look okay.” He handed her a tissue.

  “I’m just—it’s nothing,” she said, blotting her nose and eyes.

  Mike stood up, slipped his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, and appeared to examine a bottle of scented moisturizer on the glass shelf over the toilet. Then he let out an acid chuckle, and said, “I thought I was the one who was supposed to be crying.”

  “Go ahead,” said Olympia, laughing herself now, if secretly disappointed that he’d already turned the conversation back to himself. Why were men always doing that?!

  “Nah, I’m done with that part,” he said, turning to lean his backside into the edge of the sink, one sneaker foot lifted onto its toe. “To be honest, a part of me is kind of enjoying this in some sick way.”

  “You are?” said Olympia, startled by the admission and furrowing her brow.

  “I don’t know”—Mike shrugged—“maybe everyone wants what they don’t have.”

  “Maybe,” she said, unsure what he was getting at.

  A few more moments of silence passed between them. Then he glanced sideways at her, visibly swallowed, his Adam’s apple shooting up and down his neck like a pinball that couldn’t break through to the next corridor. “What about you?” he said in a strange voice. “What do you want, Pia?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, sensing a new intention.

  Suddenly he was right next to her, kneeling before her, as if he were about to pray to Mecca. But he wasn’t. He was looking right at her, looking at her longingly and clutching her upper arms with his caveman hands. He was so close that Olympia could see the little lines that ran up and down his lips. She could smell him, too. And he smelled like pepperoni and aftershave and beer. And he was warm. She could tell that from his hands alone, tell that he was an ideal furnace to be wrapped around on cold nights in January. “Pia,” he whispered. “You’re so beautiful. I never felt I could tell you that before now.” And his chest was going in and out. And his words felt like the prick of a pin. Olympia winced in pain or pleasure—she could no longer tell the difference. All she knew was that this wasn’t supposed to be happening.

  Except it was. And in that moment, she wanted so badly to reciprocate, to fall into Mike Sims’s chest and let him have her. It had been so long since she’d felt desired. And she felt so comfortable with him. As if they’d known each other their whole lives. (In a way, she supposed, they had.) She trusted him, too; however ironically, he felt like a safe bet. Plus, there was no denying the comfort of his words, familiar words that she still needed to hear, that still made her feel special, even as she acknowledged the hollowness of an accolade that was slipping further and further out of reach.

  But she couldn’t do it, couldn’t do that to her sister. Even if Perri didn’t want him anymore, that didn’t mean she wanted Olympia to have him. Olympia couldn’t bear the thought of incurring Perri’s eternal wrath. She had pride, too. And she hated the idea of Perri imagining that Olympia had spent the previous thirty-eight years coveting what her older sister had already achieved, trying to be just like her. Also, she didn’t want to prove Gus right again; she could still hear her younger sister the night of Carol’s accident, saying she’d “always been into married guys.” “Mike—stop!” she squeaked in a puny voice, standing up to escape his clutches.

  But he stood up, too. Their bodies were inches apart, their groins nearly touching, his beer breath on her neck. “Pia,” he said again, his chest cratering. “Let me kiss you—”

  She felt so torn—and also, in that moment, so starved for love. Why should she be the only one in the family without it? And Mike wanted her so badly. How could she deny him? Men had their needs. Well, so did women. And it could be just one time. As he moved closer, she felt powerless to everything that came next. She closed her eyes and felt his lips brushing against hers, her breasts melding into his volcanic chest, his crotch hardening against her thigh…

  “Mommy?” came a tiny voice from outside the door.

  Lola!! Olympia felt as if she’d touched an electrified fence and jumped away from Mike as fast as she could. “Coming, sweetie,” she trilled. She wiped her lips against the back of her hand, tucked her hair behind her ears, and exited the bathroom, failing to close the door behind her.

  “Mommy, have you been crying?” asked Lola. Gus stood next to her, looking probingly at Olympia, then at Mike, who was now standing by the window, his back turned, his head down.

  Then she looked at Olympia again.

  “No, sweetie, just allergies,” said Olympia, taking her daughter into her arms and doing her best to ignore her sister’s suspicious glances. Except she couldn’t. “What?!” she said accusingly, turning to Gus.

  “Nothing!” cried Gus. “Lola was just looking for you, that’s all.”

  “Well, here I am.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. Why?”

  “Sadie says we can have popcorn,” said Lola. “But Aunt Gus and I can’t find it. And Grandpa doesn’t know where it is.”

  “Well, let’s go look for it,” said Olympia, shuttling her daughter and sister back down the hall and trying to pretend that what had just happened never had.

  This time it was Olympia who lay awake long into the night, trying to make sense of what had happened. In her mind’s eye, she could see Perri and Mike walking down the aisle at Lyndhurst Castle, while Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight” played in the background, both of them beaming and round-faced. She also saw herself and Perri as children playing “ship” in their bunk bed. Perri, on the top bunk, was directing Olympia to raise the ladder before the pirates could climb a
board, then berating her for having done it too slowly and at the wrong angle and then placing it on the wrong side of the bed. It wasn’t just that Perri was bossy. It was that she seemed to need Olympia to fuck everything up. And Olympia was no longer willing to play the role. It followed that, the more convinced Perri became that she had all the right answers, the more loath Olympia was to reveal any doubts or questions about her life whatsoever, including those surrounding her decision to have a child on her own.

  Olympia had also learned her lesson. In her twenties, following a breakup and leave of absence from yet another graduate school, Olympia had admitted to Perri that she felt aimless and depressed. In response, Perri had suggested that Olympia consider an inpatient treatment program for insane people. That, or she should lower her expectations and get a minimum-wage job as a toll taker at the Tappan Zee Bridge. Or maybe Perri hadn’t actually said those things. Yet that had been the message with which Olympia had come away. She’d felt judged rather than supported.

  Still, she didn’t hate Perri. On some level, yes, she was jealous of her older sister’s professional success. She also considered Perri to be a semi-absurd figure. At the same time, Olympia had always taken a strange sort of pride in having a sister like her. She even recalled feeling tickled when Perri had married at a relatively young age. It had made Olympia feel grown-up by association. It had also felt like further permission to stray and to fail. Only now Perri had called in sick, and Olympia was being offered a chance to play her sister’s understudy. Was that what was happening here? Or did this have nothing to do with Perri? Had Mike been secretly enamored of Olympia all these years? Olympia did a quick mental vetting of their interactions over the last ten years of Hellinger family functions. Sometimes he’d look at her sideways and make provocative, even suggestive comments. But he did that with everyone, didn’t he?

  Olympia felt confused and agitated. All night, she waited for Mike to appear in the living room. What had happened between them felt like one step removed from incest. Mike was practically her brother! At the same time, she longed for him to climb under her blanket and smother her with kisses…

  He never did.

  And in the light of early morning, she was glad that he hadn’t. The same scenario that had kept her up half the night seemed ill-advised, even absurd. She longed to flee the premises—and her crazy urges—as soon as possible. Unfortunately, she’d already promised Sadie and Lola that she’d take them ice-skating in the morning. So there was no chance of a graceful exit until the afternoon. At breakfast, Olympia avoided all communication and even eye contact with her brother-in-law, who kept his own distance as well, directing all his conversation at the kids (and Bob).

  The skating expedition was yet another exercise in frustration. Sadie had taken lessons and even knew how to skate backward. But Lola was so petrified by the sensation of unsteady ground that, even with Olympia holding her in a full body lock, she refused to let her skates touch the ice. Instead, she lifted her bent knees into the air, and panted, “No, no, no!” while Olympia cried, “Ohmygod, do you have to be such a wimp?” Ten minutes later, her back and brain aching from the strain, Olympia gave up hope and accompanied Lola off the ice.

  Back at the house, Olympia quickly stuffed her and Lola’s belongings into an overnight bag, while Lola and Sadie played with Sadie’s Littlest Pet Shop collection. “Sweetie,” Olympia said in a low voice. “I’m afraid we have to go back to the city now.”

  “No!” cried Lola. “I want to stay with Sadie.”

  “I know, sweetie. But I have stuff I need to take care of at home. I promise we’ll see Sadie again soon.”

  Lola folded her lower lip over her chin. It was a face that Olympia had seen before, on someone else. But who? “We haven’t even had the funeral yet,” she said.

  “Funeral?” asked Olympia.

  “The walrus died.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “You’re not sorry.”

  “I am. But we have to go.”

  “I’m not leaving!” announced Lola.

  “You are leaving,” said Olympia, struggling to keep her cool.

  “Am not.”

  “Are so.”

  “Am not.”

  Her patience worn thin, Olympia grabbed Lola by the elbow and began to drag her toward the door, Lola moaning in revolt. That was when Olympia caught sight of Bob. Embarrassed by both her display of aggression and the fact that she was leaving already, she quickly released Lola. She’d seen her father lose his temper only once, decades ago, after a family of Italian tourists cut them in the line to buy tickets to the laser light show at the Hayden Planetarium. “Excuse me, you fascist sympathizers, but we were here first!” Bob had said. “So SHOVE IT!” At the time, Olympia had been mortified. But during the years that followed, “Shove it, you fascist sympathizers” had become yet another oft-repeated joke-phrase in the Hellinger family.

  “Leaving already?” asked Bob. The sight of Olympia’s overnight bag in the middle of the living room must have given her away.

  “Unfortunately, I have some work stuff I need to take care of,” said Olympia.

  “Well, that’s a real shame because I just got word that Mom’s being released this afternoon,” said Bob. “I know she’d be thrilled if you were part of the welcoming party.”

  Olympia’s guilt metastasized. “Wow, I forgot she was getting out so soon,” she said, lamenting the timing, even as she was thrilled and relieved to think that her mother was on the mend. It occurred suddenly to Olympia that Hastings via Yonkers was as good an “escape route” as any other. Plus, she couldn’t very well leave Mike to deal with getting her parents home from the hospital. “You know what—I can let work slide for a day or so,” she said. Never mind that she didn’t actually know if she had any work waiting for her next week. “Why don’t we go over to Yonkers with you right now and get Mom. Then all four of us can go back to Hastings together. Lola and I will spend the night. The museum is dark on Monday, anyway.”

  “What a wonderful idea!” declared Bob. “It will be a real homecoming for Mom.”

  No sooner had Olympia made the offer, however, than she began to regret having done so. Sleeping in her childhood bed always made her feel as if she were nine inches tall. But it was too late. Olympia helped her father pack up his two pairs of pants and rusted beard trimming kit.

  Lola was still whimpering when the taxi honked.

  Olympia kissed her niece and nephews good-bye. She and her brother-in-law exchanged no such formalities. “Good having you, Bob—and let me know if you need help at the hospital,” Mike announced while gripping his father-in-law’s hand.

  “Will do,” Bob replied. “And if you don’t mind me saying, you have some handshake there! My right hand feels as if it were just mauled by a brown bear.”

  “All those years of football training.” Mike smiled congenially. Then he turned to Lola, and said, “See you later, Deep Sea Diver.”

  “Bye, Uncle Mikey,” she said lugubriously. Then “Bye, Sadie. I love you.”

  Sadie didn’t answer. Olympia tried not to take it personally.

  The three of them walked to the waiting taxi. Mike and the kids stood on the front step, watching them go. “Bye, Grandpa,” Aiden called out.

  “Remember, kiddo, develop knights toward the center!” Bob called out the window. As the car snaked down the driveway, Olympia glanced out the window and thought she saw Mike mouth the words “I love you.” A roiling, nauseated feeling overtook her gut. Or was she projecting? Maybe he was just telling Aiden to put some shoes on. And why was it that, throughout Olympia’s life, all the men to whom she was most attracted were unavailable? Was it possible that what made them attractive to her was the fact that they weren’t in a position to reciprocate? Olympia tried not to think about it.

  Bob, Olympia, and Lola walked into Carol’s hospital room just as Carol was signing release forms. She still had a cast on her leg, albeit a smaller one. She was going t
o be on crutches, it seemed, for three more weeks. She’d also lost what appeared to be a considerable amount of weight, especially in the bosom. Her favorite plum chenille sweater hung off her like a scarecrow’s plaid shirt. Olympia didn’t notice the excess fabric until her mother turned around and said, “Pia, what a lovely surprise!”

  Olympia was suddenly pleased she’d made the effort. (Everyone liked to play the Dutiful Daughter sometimes.) “Wouldn’t miss your homecoming,” she said.

  “And Lola, too,” Carol went on. “Hello, sugarplum. Did you come to see your grandma home?”

  “Look, Mommy!” cried Lola, who was excitedly pressing the button that made the bed go up and down.

  “Grandma’s talking to you!” said Olympia, wishing that Lola had said something charming in reply to Carol’s question. Then again, she and Lola were both here, and her other children and grandchildren weren’t. Maybe that was enough. “Here, let me put these in a bag,” Olympia said, as she began to stuff novels, socks, and a sodden-looking bag of yogurt-covered pretzels into a large brown Bloomie’s bag.

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” said Carol, waving her hand.

  “But I want to.”

  “Well, then, I won’t stop you.”

  As they started toward the door, a plump Filipino nurse whose name tag read CINDY said, “We’re all going to miss you, Mrs. Hellinger.”

  “Forgive me for saying that the feeling is not mutual!” said Carol. “Six weeks in captivity was long enough.”

  “Mom!” cried Olympia, aghast if not entirely surprised. Gus had been going on lately about how much “nicer” their mother had gotten since the accident. (Olympia and her sisters regularly dissected Carol’s personality with all the squeamish fascination of a seventh-grade science class dismembering a fetal pig.) In any case, Carol was apparently back to her feisty old self. Which was comforting news in its own way.

  “It’s okay,” said the nurse, chuckling. “You’re not supposed to miss us.”

  “Well, I’ll be delighted if and when I run into you in the frozen food aisle at ShopRite,” said Carol. “How’s that?”