Page 45 of Persephone's Curse
“We could go ice skating at Rockefeller Center!” Clara exclaimed.
“I’ve always wanted to try Magnolia Bakery,” Bernie added thoughtfully.
We all looked to Evelyn for her input. She had a funny expression on her face.
“What’s going on here?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” Bernie responded, because she was the best liar out of the three of us.
“Imean,” Evelyn said, tightening her grip on her wineglass, “this who-can-out-happy-the-hardest thing that’s happening.”
“I’m just happy,” Clara said. “Mostly. I mean, I’d like another sip of wine.”
Evelyn handed Clara her wineglass without looking at her. She was alternating between Bernadette and me, swiveling her eyes back and forth like she was scared of letting either one of us out of her sight.
“We all live in the same house,” Bernadette said. “We know something’s going on with Henry. We know something’s going on withyouand Henry. We’re trying to take your mind off it. It’s not some big conspiracy, Evie. We’re yoursisters. And we care about you. We don’t knowwhathappened to Henry, but we love you, okay?”
Evelyn was blinking rapidly, in the way a person blinks when they’re trying desperately not to cry. It made my heart ache to watch her, so I looked down at my hands, at the wineglass, at a piece of cracker that had fallen to the bottom of the boat.
“I don’t know where he went,” she said finally, her shoulders collapsing, her tiny frame folding in on itself. “He won’t come back.”
“It’s going to be okay,” Bernadette said, her voice decisive and strong. She handed me her wineglass and pulled Evelyn close to her. Evelyn collapsed into her lap and Bernadette wrapped her arms around her, holding her. “It’s going to be okay,” Bernadette said, but she was looking at me, and I got the impression that she was talking to me, too, staring directly into my eyes as I felt my bottom lip start to tremble. “It’s going to be okay,” she said again, for the third time, and it began to feel like an incantation, like a mantra, like a spell.
Next to me, Clara took a big gulp of Evelyn’s wine and then silently poured the rest of it over the side of the boat. She wasn’t looking at any of us; she was looking out of the boat, away into the city,north over the lake and back in the direction of our home. She was squinting her eyes so hard that her brow was wrinkled and I knew what she was thinking about because we were sisters and I always knew what all of us were thinking about.
“Do you know what it is?” I asked, as Bernadette continued to hold Evelyn and Clara continued to stare out at the city.
The painting.
Clara blinked a few times, then looked back at me. Her expression was thoughtful, patient. She nodded slightly and said, “Almost.”
We tried again.
We went skating at Rockefeller Center, drank frozen hot chocolates at Serendipity, waited in line to get up to the top of the Empire State Building. We saw our city through the eyes of tourists; we ate lunch in Chinatown and Little Italy and got desperately lost in SoHo trying to find Balthazar, where we ate the most expensive omelets I had ever encountered in my life. We took tours of St. Patrick’s Cathedral and Radio City Music Hall and the Apollo Theater.
And it seemed to be working.
October melted away into November and the days got colder and bitter and we went to Central Park the first time it snowed, standing in the middle of the Great Lawn (none of our favorite places, but nice for this purpose) and watching the grass turn white around us.
Aunt Bea came down for Thanksgiving, a holiday none of us really liked and didn’t celebrate in the traditional way, insteadalways opting to visit a local Chinese restaurant so we didn’t have to deal with the hassle of cooking and cleaning.
By then, Evelyn was mostly back to normal. It had been about a month since we’d last seen Henry and we’d kept every waking moment of her life busy with activities.
“She’s stopped knocking,” Bernadette said to me in the bathroom of the Chinese restaurant as she waited for me to finish washing my hands.
“She has?” I asked.
“Just this week,” Bernadette said quietly.
I shut off the water and stared into the mirror.
“We did the right thing?” I asked.
“I wasn’t sure,” she replied after a few moments. “For a long time, I wasn’t sure. But I think we might have.”
Bernadette grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and handed it to me. I dried my hands and we walked back to the table. Two servers were just arriving, carrying trays laden with food. I slipped back into my seat between Clara and Aunt Bea, who reached over and patted my leg, giving me a knowing smile I couldn’t guess the meaning behind.
Dad was in the middle of a long story about the TV remote (I’d missed the beginning and although I briefly tried tuning in, I had absolutely no idea what the point was), so I focused on filling my plate with a little bit of everything. Across the table, Evelyn was doing the same, and at one point we knocked hands reaching for the same serving spoon. She looked up at me and smiled happily, and for some reason it made me want to cry.
