Home > Heat Wave(23)

Heat Wave(23)
Author: Karina Halle

So with that in mind, Christmas was always a cold, joyless time.

In my dream, it was no different. Janice was there, as were my parents, Logan, Juliet, and myself. But instead of being in their house, it was held at my apartment. All of us were crammed in around my tiny kitchen table that Janice had decorated with fake snow. All of us were covered in it, white streaks down our faces. There was a Christmas tree in the corner but it was a palm tree, its fronds stretching out over the ceiling.

But even though the setting was different, everything else was the same.

My father, with his pinched nose and stern mouth, his grey suits and burgundy ties (always the same, my mother wouldn’t let him try another color), barely said two words, my mother dominating most of the conversation. Her face was doing that weird thing where sometimes she looked like Juliet and sometimes she looked like herself, always interchanging, but the conversation was word for word.

I know because I’ve never forgotten it.

Juliet asked for my father to pass her the bottle of red wine, wanting to top off her glass.

“No, darling,” my mother had said with that politician’s smile. “One glass is your limit these days.”

“Why?” I asked. Juliet loved wine.

Juliet and Logan exchanged a glance. My mother gave me a placating smile. “Because your sister is going to be married in the spring. As soon as it’s official, I expect they’ll be trying for a child. The last thing we want is a tainted child in this family. Juliet’s diet will be very strict. Mothers have to start months in advance to rid their bodies of all impurities.”

None of this was surprising to me. I had figured that they’d start having kids after getting married. Even so, there was something in my mother’s tone, some kind of pride that hinted that the conversation wasn’t over.

And it wasn’t.

“Oh,” I’d said and motioned for the bottle. If she wasn’t drinking it, I was going to.

As my father passed it over, my mother eyed it with disdain. “You know, Veronica,” my mother said, brushing back her blonde bangs from her face, “it would be nice if you followed in your sister’s footsteps. Found a man. Started getting things lined up. Your future. You’re not getting any younger. Your sister is already pressing her luck.”

The whole table went silent. What she said was never news to me. There’d always been talk about me trying to measure up to Juliet, to become just like her. But this was the first she’d mentioned it on such a personal level and in front of everyone, including Logan.

I busied myself with the wine while I thought of what to say. Something light to throw the whole conversation away. “Well, we can’t all be Juliet.” I even gave my sister a wink, to let her know I didn’t mean any harm by it.

And Juliet laughed. “No, you certainly can’t,” she said and she looked to my mother with a look of wry disbelief. “Mom, you know Veronica is going to end up one of those crazy cat ladies when she grows up. She has zero time for men.”

That startled me. “Cat lady? I don’t even like cats.”

“Oh relax,” Juliet said with a wicked laugh. “You’re always overreacting to everything I say. You should learn to take a joke. Maybe you won’t have a bunch of cats, but if you keep going at this rate, it’s just going to be you surrounded by plates of food. I’m all for taking your career seriously, but after a while you should probably start exploring your options.”

“See, that’s what I mean,” my mother said, jumping in. “You need to smile more. Become more diplomatic. More open. You won’t ever attract a man, the right man, if you don’t try and make yourself a little…nicer.”

“We care about you,” Juliet quickly added. “We don’t want to see you unhappy and alone.”

I was stunned in real life and I was as stunned in the dream. I still didn’t have a good comeback. I just stared up at the ceiling which turned into clouds, snow falling into my eyes.

“I don’t think Veronica has anything to worry about,” Logan said, speaking up, wiping the falling snow from his arms. I looked at him in surprise. He rarely said anything in these situations, often letting my mother and Juliet dominate. He gave me a light, quick smile, even though his eyes were burning with something more grave. It was hidden just beneath the surface, like he was angered by all of this. “In a few years she’ll have her own damn cooking show. I mean look at her. She’d be perfect for it. I know I’d tune in.”

Then he scooped mashed potatoes into his mouth, averting his eyes away from mine.

Damn. Logan had just gone to bat for me.

Silence fell over the table again. Finally, my father spoke up, “That’s not a bad idea, Logan. Ronnie, there’s a new goal for you. You could be the next Nigella Lawson or, what’s that woman’s name? The skinnier version of her? Either way, it’s better than working as an ordinary cook.”

And just like that, the conversation was dropped. I know my mother wanted to point out that if anyone should be on TV, it should be Juliet, but she didn’t. I’m also sure that was the first moment that really cemented in my mother’s mind that Logan was the enemy.

And he was marrying her precious daughter.

Then the dream melded into other dreams. Colorful flying chickens swooping down mountainsides, plates of ahi tuna, swimming in a pool full of floating luggage. Everything drifting off into blissful nonsense.

   
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