One night after dinner, Kiki came into my room, closed my door, and sat at the end of my bed. “Do you think it would kill Mom if I told her I didn’t want to do the pageants anymore?”
I shook my head. I knew this was coming. “No, Keeks. I know I haven’t always been the best big sister, and I’ve never really given you any advice worth taking, but this I know for sure: You have to tell her. She can take it now. She’s different. Hell, she might even be happy about it. But you also have to find something to focus on. Maybe not right now, but eventually, when you’re in high school and stuff. Stick with the piano or play a sport or something.”
“No, I know. Cara Keller plays softball. I think I want to try that.”
I cringed inwardly at the thought of Kiki telling my mother she was swapping pageantry for softball, but at least my sister would learn teamwork, not superficial competition with, and hatred toward, other girls. “I think that’s a great idea. But give Mom another couple of months. Didn’t she cancel the upcoming pageants anyway?”
“Yeah.”
“Wait until she brings it up.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. Thanks, Penny.” She left my room and went to bed.
Later that night I went into my mom’s room, where I found her in the walk-in closet, sitting on the floor. She was clutching one of my dad’s shirts to her face, crying into it. I sat beside her and cried with her.
She started laughing and crying at the same time. “Remember when I was pregnant with Kiki and I made your dad drive all the way to Denver to that chocolatier I loved?”
“I remember. I went with him.”
“I was convinced it was the only thing that could make me happy.”
“Did it?”
“Yes, for about three hours.” We laughed. “You were an easygoing baby. Kiki gave me such a hard time. I never felt well while I was pregnant with her.”
“Well, you were older.”
“After I had her, I had postpartum depression. And I never told you. You were too young, anyway.” She was blinking up at the ceiling. “Kiki cried so much as a baby. I just couldn’t bond with her.”
I looked up at the ceiling, too. “I remember her crying.”
“I wanted to throw her in a trash can. I had visions of it.” Shocked by her candor, I was speechless as she went on. “I was in a very dark place, and your dad helped me out of it. He would have done anything for me.”
“I know, Mom.”
Minutes were strung on a clothesline of memories until she spoke again.
“That’s how Gavin is with you. He’d do anything for you.”
“Gavin has a girlfriend. He and I are just friends.”
“Lottie won’t last,” she mumbled.
Trying to change the subject, I said, “Is that why you gave Kiki so much attention?”
She paused, contemplative. “Yes. I’m sure part of it was guilt—later, relief that I had finally bonded with her.”
I put my arm around her awkwardly. My knee brace got in the way of everything. She held me back for a long time. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed her affection.
“Mom, Kiki doesn’t want to do the pageants anymore. I told her to hold off on telling you, but she came to me tonight. I just thought you should know.”
She wasn’t the least bit surprised. “I know. I was going to talk to her about it and let her know it’s all right with me. I’m still proud of her.”
“Me too.”
“And, Penny, I’m proud of you, too. You’re a college graduate and you’re a beautiful dancer. Your knee will heal. And you’ll get your chance again. I believe it.”
“I hope so.”
