Page 13 of Meet Me on Greenwood

She was standing at the top of the staircase in a robe that had seen better days, hair undone, looking like she hadn't slept. We locked eyes across the distance, and I felt the old familiar strangeness of it. It was like looking at someone who shared your features and seeing a stranger.

"Hi Bri."

She looked at me for a long moment. "You actually came."

"Did you think I wouldn't?"

She didn't answer, but she looked towards the monogrammed bag with my company’s logo in my hand and raised her eyebrow in judgment.

"You brought work?"

I shrugged. "I have some deadlines that can’t wait."

"Not even for our father’s funeral?"

We’d never been warm with each other, not really, but when our mother, Helen, died, something in Bri broke and never healed. I used to think that if I waited long enough, she'd find her way back to me. But after high school, several attempts at college and several odd jobs later, I'd mostly stopped waiting.

Lyla moved between us to smooth things over. "Bri, honey, why don't you go get dressed and I'll have someone bring up some tea."

Bri's eyes stayed on me a beat longer before she turned and disappeared down the hall.

Maise leaned close. "That's the twin?"

"That is the twin," I confirmed.

"You weren't kidding."

"I never do about Bri."

6

Gema

Colored Girls Win Honors in Mix School

Lyla was grieving. It was evident in the way that she ordered the staff to clean my father’s house from top to bottom, the calls she made to his colleagues and work friends, and the special attention to each meal she served us. She shifted through the house attending to Maise and I, even when I insisted she not. Now, she was fretting over the flowers.

It was surprising, as I never thought their relationship was a love match.

"Do you think white lilies, or should we mix in roses? I don’t want to do carnations. I’ve never liked them."

I opened my mouth to speak, but Bri spoke up from the corner. "Dad hated flowers. They’re not useful. I wouldn’t bother."

Lyla gave a tight, patient smile. "Of course he would want them. He always wanted the best, especially for you girls."

Bri scoffed. "I am too sober for this shit. I’m going to go find me a drink."

"Isn’t it early?" I asked. "It’s barely eleven."

Her face lit up. "Mimosas! Oh, I love a good mimosa," she said with a wink before leaving.

Lyla looked deflated. I touched her shoulder. "He’d want the very best, as you said. Go with the mix. It will look elegant."

Her eyes looked hopeful. "You think so? I just want everything to be perfect."

"It will be."

I helped Lyla make a few more last-minute decisions before heading to the indoor pool, where Bri was splayed out in a bathing suit, several empty mimosa glasses beside her. Her nose was deep in one of those pastel pink books with cartoon art on the cover.