Saturday May 5, 2007
Trixie surveyed her empty house with a little trepidation, its unusual silence having a disturbing effect on her. In a few minutes her friends Honey and Diana would be arriving for an all-night celebration of her thirty-fifth birthday, the first sleep-over they had held for more than ten years.
I hope we remember how this is done, she mused.
A quick glance told her that everything was ready and she sank into a comfortable chair to wait. Moments later she sprang up again, unable to sit still even for a few minutes. She was saved, momentarily, by a knock at the back door.
Honey and Di emptied armloads of goods onto the kitchen counter, good-naturedly banishing Trixie from the room.
“Go put some music on,” Di prompted, handing her a bundle of CDs. “We’ll handle everything in here.”
Trixie smiled and thanked them. Even after all these years of living away from her parents, the kitchen was not her favourite place.
In the living room, Trixie quickly sorted through the music Di had given her.
“Celine Dion?” she asked herself. “No, I don’t think so. The Bee Gees? No. What’s this? ‘Love Songs for All Occasions.’”
From the kitchen she could hear the sounds of food reheating in the microwave but they were soon drowned out by the opening strains of ‘Could I Have This Dance?’ Over the music, the microwave dinged.
“A little too romantic for this occasion, don’t you think?” Honey commented, depositing dishes of food on the coffee table. “This is supposed to be a girl’s night. I thought you’d put on something up-beat.”
“I didn’t even mean to bring that one,” Di added, setting down plates, glasses and cutlery. “It is a bit too much for tonight.”
“I like romantic,” Trixie told them. “This song reminds me of the night we went to see ‘Little Shop of Horrors’ performed live.”
The other two laughed at this incongruous picture.
“What could this song possibly have in common with ‘Little Shop of Horrors’?” Di asked, baffled.
“Never you mind,” Trixie told her with a smirk.
After they had eaten, Honey brought out the gift that she and Di had prepared for Trixie.
“Before we get to the good stuff,” Honey began.
“She means dessert,” Di interrupted.
“Di and I have a present for you,” Honey finished.
Di retrieved a package from behind the sofa and placed it gently in Trixie’s lap. As she began to open it, Trixie sensed that the other two were watching her closely.
“Oh, thank you,” she cried when the paper was removed to reveal a photograph album, its cover inset with a picture of the three of them together. “It’s beautiful.”
“Aren’t you going to look inside?” Di prompted.
“There’s more?” Trixie asked with obvious interest. “Oh, look - it’s our first Bob-White photo.”
On the front page of the album was a casual shot of the six Bob-Whites at the edge of the Wheeler’s lake.
“Do you remember that day?” asked Honey. “I ate so much I thought I would burst.”
“And I was so smitten with Mart I barely ate a thing,” laughed Di. “I was trying to impress him, you know.”
“I remember something else about that day,” Trixie added with a giggle.
“Last one in’s a monkey’s uncle,” Trixie called to the others. She splashed into the lake, leaving most of the others still arranging their belongings. The other five soon joined her, splashing and ducking each other until Brian called for a cease-fire.
“Give me a break,” he pleaded. “I do need air.”
Honey, diplomatic as ever, suggested a race and Brian volunteered to man the finish line. After the required amount of bickering the racers were off. Honey quickly broke away from the group, her clean strokes pulling her far ahead.
Just as she was crossing the finish line there was a commotion behind her as some of the other racers collided. Afterwards, no-one was ever sure who had run into whom but the result of the collision was plainly obvious to Trixie.
“Gleeps!” she cried trying to get away from the group. “Honey, help!”
Honey’s arms moved swiftly through the water towards the stricken girl. Trixie’s arms were firmly crossed over her chest and she seemed to be having trouble keeping afloat.
“What’s the matter, Trixie?” she asked, concerned. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” said Trixie, her face now flushed red. She whispered to her friend, “My swimsuit got torn! What am I going to do?”
Honey quickly surveyed the damage, smothering the smile which threatened to cross her face. The torn suit left Trixie rather exposed.
“You’ll have to go back to shore,” Honey recommended. “Do you have something to put over this?”
“Gleeps, Honey,” Trixie exclaimed. “I can’t get out of the water! I’ll have to wait here until dark.”
“Of course you won’t,” Honey countered. “You’ll have your back to the boys. They won’t see a thing. And I think I saw a spare suit in the boathouse.”
After a few more minutes’ persuasion Honey convinced her to leave the water. The plan was working beautifully up until the point where Trixie had to cross from the water’s edge to the boathouse.
“Jeepers!” cried Trixie, breaking into a run. “There’s Regan!”
A moment later the two girls were inside the boathouse with the door slammed behind them.
“Oh, Honey,” Trixie wailed. “Do you think he saw me?”
“No, Trixie,” Honey replied. “I don’t think so.”
“Gleeps,” Trixie repeated. “If that ever happens to me again, I’m staying in the water until dark. I don’t care if I turn into a prune!”
“If it happened now,” Trixie laughed, “I wouldn’t care. They could look all they liked.”
The next photograph showed seven Bob-Whites in a winter scene.
“Oh, look at this one,” Honey cried as the page was turned. “It’s my favourite. Did you ever see a more delicious photo of my sweetie?”
“I didn’t think you agreed with me back then when I said he was cute,” Di teased.
“I’ve come to see his finer points,” Honey countered. “Ones I wouldn’t have known what to do with back then,” she added, drawing giggles from the others.
“Oh, I like this one,” Trixie commented, pointing to the next picture. “Is that the day we went through Moms’ record collection?”
“What are we going to do now?” asked Trixie disconsolately, as she gazed out the kitchen window. She, Honey and Di had planned to go to the clubhouse and tidy the goods stored there since several stacks were threatening to fall down. Just as they were about to leave Crabapple Farm it had started to sleet.
“I don’t like the look of that,” Honey said, looking up at the sky. “I think we’d better stay here.”
“Let’s put on some music,” suggested Di. “I think I saw a big pile of old records in the living room. Maybe there’s something we’d all like.”
“If it’s all right with Moms,” Trixie told her and turned to her mother. “Can we go through your new records?”
“The ones I saw weren’t new,” Di corrected.
“Trixie means ‘new to me,’” Mrs Belden smiled, “not ‘really new.’ A lot of people are getting rid of their record collections in favour of CDs and you can pick them up very cheaply at auction. You’re most welcome to go through them.”
Minutes later, the three girls were surrounded by LPs. Most of the albums dated from the early 1970s and were unfamiliar to the girls.
“Let’s put this one on,” Trixie suggested, picking up an album. Its cover showed two men and two women, outlandishly dressed. “Some of these songs have the weirdest names.”
“‘Waterloo.’ I know that one. ‘Sitting in a Palm Tree,’ ‘The King Kong Song,’” Di read. “Put it on. I’ve got to hear that one!”
Honey placed the record on the turntable and set the machine going. Seventies-style pop music filled the room. By the time they got to a song about rebelling with a boyfriend called ‘Fred’ the three girls were in a very silly mood.
“Oh, Fred,” Trixie paraphrased, striking a pose. “How could I ever live without you? Why should I waste my time on housework when I could be with you?”
“That song is exactly right for you,” laughed Honey, “except the boyfriend should be called ‘Jim.’”
Trixie flushed a dull red.
A blast of cold air indicated that the kitchen door had opened and a few moments later Brian walked past on his way upstairs. He had obviously made unsuccessful attempts to remove the snow from his clothes.
“Oh, look,” cried Trixie, still embarrassed by Honey’s joke. “It’s the abominable snowman!”
Brian stalked out of the room, his shoulders hunched and head bowed.
“Are you okay, Brian?” Honey called after him, her voice full of concern.
“Fine,” he returned curtly, not even pausing.
“Come and see,” Di exclaimed from a nearby window. “It’s no wonder he was so covered in snow. Just look.”
Outside, the sleet had turned into snow and, pushed by the swirling winds, was blotting out all but the nearest objects. In their hilarity the girls had not noticed the change in the weather.
“But he wouldn’t have got that way from the car to the house,” Trixie reasoned.
“Elementary, my dear Beatrix,” said Mart, entering the room. “Our elder sibling has been toiling arduously on the periphery of a thoroughfare to substitute an uninflated rotational device.”
Di’s violet eyes opened wide.
“He means they had a flat,” Trixie translated. “And what made Brian so snowy, while you have hardly a speck on you?”
“In plain English, please,” Honey asked as Mart gathered his thoughts.
“Moms didn’t let me in the house,” Mart said with a laugh. “I had to change in the laundry.”
“I think it’s time for dessert,” Honey said before Trixie could turn another page.
“Just wait until you see what she brought,” Di told Trixie. “Words cannot do justice.”
“What are we waiting for?” Trixie asked.
The three went out to the kitchen to retrieve the sweet treats.
“We got a bit confused,” Di explained. “We both thought we were bringing dessert, so there is a choice.”
“Option one,” continued Honey, “is the pecan pie, courtesy of Di’s kitchen.”
“Option two,” Di added, “is the triple mocha swirl cheesecake, courtesy of Honey’s resident culinary genius.”
“Option three,” deduced Trixie, “must be both.”
The three settled on ‘option three’ and, having dealt out generous serves, returned to the living room.
“Great pie, Di,” Honey told her.
“And this cheesecake is simply divine,” added Di.
“No-one can tell me it’s not sex on a plate,” Honey asserted. “Not that we did have sex on that particular plate,” she clarified.
“You put an entirely different meaning on that expression when you say it that way,” Trixie choked out.
“Not to mention a different meaning on the food,” Di added. “I’m not sure I want to eat it any more.”
“I’ll have it if you don’t want it,” Honey offered.
“You don’t have some happy news for us, do you Honey?” Di asked. “After all, you’ve been very hungry this evening.”
“I’m not going to tell you that,” Honey replied. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
Trixie turned another page.
“Oh, I love this photo,” she cried. “Di, isn’t this the time your great aunt visited?”
“I think so,” Di confirmed. She added to Honey, “I don’t think you were around that weekend. I was so afraid she’d find something embarrassing in my room.”
The telephone rang and Trixie yelled out that she would get it.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Trixie,” Di whispered. “Can you do me a favour?”
“Sure,” Trixie replied. She added softly, “Why are you whispering?”
“It’s got to be our secret, Trix,” Di continued. “Can you meet me outside in a bit?”
“Okay,” Trixie answered. “Whereabouts?”
Di described the place they would meet and the two girls hung up.
“Moms, I’m going out for a little while,” Trixie called, unsure whether anyone had heard her.
Shortly afterward she reached the appointed meeting place.
“Trixie,” Di hissed from under the shadow of an enormous evergreen. “Can you hide this for me, please?”
“Okay,” Trixie agreed. “What is it?”
“Better not ask,” muttered Di.
Trixie nodded and scooted out of sight.
Where am I going to put it? she asked herself. If Di doesn’t want it found in her house it can’t go in mine. How about the clubhouse? Or the boathouse?
She quickly settled on the boathouse since the weather was still too cold for water activities, but the ice was already melting.
If I put it up in the rafters maybe no-one will notice, she decided.
Trixie ducked inside the small building, having made sure that no-one was watching. Once inside she quickly decided on the hiding space, but reaching it posed a problem. Nothing presented itself as an ideal object to stand on.
I’ll just have to stand on this box, she thought. I hope it’s strong enough.
In her haste to dispose of the package, Trixie missed her footing and Diana’s package went flying from her hands. There was a tinkling sound like broken glass.
Oh, no, thought Trixie. What have I done?
Carefully, she retrieved the box. It rattled slightly as she picked it up, whereas previously it had seemed firmly packed. Opening the lid, Trixie was momentarily confused.
What is that thing? she asked herself. Inside the box were a number of small articles. On the right was a framed photograph, its glass shattered. The largest object on the left intrigued Trixie, though. It looks like a…
“O-o-o-o-oh,” Trixie said aloud. “No-o-o-o.”
“And what was it?” asked Honey, who had never heard this story.
“A vibrator, of course,” Di told her.
“I was so embarrassed,” Trixie admitted. “I could hardly look Di in the face for weeks, maybe months, afterwards.”
“But that wasn’t the end of it,” Di added.
“Trixie,” Di whispered down the phone line once again. “I can’t find it. I think she’s got it.”
“Found what?” asked Trixie, perplexed and rather uncomfortable. “Didn’t you put everything in the box?”
“Not everything,” Di clarified. “I hid some other things here; small things.”
“Are you sure you didn’t just forget where you hid it?” Trixie asked. “What are we talking about anyway?”
“The instruction sheet for, well, you know,” Di hedged.
Trixie felt herself turning red and, even though no-one could see her, felt even more embarrassed because of it.
“Why would she want that?” Trixie wondered aloud.
“She’s out to get me,” Di claimed, beginning to sound hysterical. “She’s trying to trap me. She wants to make me look bad in front of everyone.”
“Why don’t you go and have another look?” Trixie suggested. “Then if it’s really missing we’ll think of something together.”
“Okay, Trixie,” said Di. “I’ll call you back in ten minutes.”
Trixie waited impatiently by the telephone until finally it rang.
“It’s okay,” she heard Di say. “I found it.”
“And the funniest thing is,” Di added, “I found out later that her eyesight was so bad that she wouldn’t have been able to see what it was even if she did find it.”
“Oh, where did you get this?” Trixie cried, a few pages later. The shot she referred to showed the Bob-Whites in their early twenties, posed together as a group. “I looked everywhere for this one.”
“It took some doing,” admitted Di, “but we finally found the negative and had it reprinted.”
“Do you remember that day?” asked Honey quietly.
“How could I forget?” Trixie responded and Di nodded her agreement.
“I guess this is the end, then,” said Mart. “I don’t think I’ll see all of you before I leave.”
“Probably not,” agreed Dan. “But you’d better write.”
“We should all write to each other,” Di added.
“So I’ve got to write to my roomy?” Honey asked sweetly.
“I meant, to the ones we don’t see all the time,” Di corrected. “Though we could make an exception for you,” she added with a laugh.
“I think we should all get together when Mart gets back,” Trixie decided. “Maybe have a big party at Crabapple Farm.”
“Thanks, Trix,” he replied. “I’d like that.”
Trixie turned another page. They were almost halfway through the album now.
“I almost didn’t put this one in,” Di added, a bittersweet smile on her face. “It reminds me of sad times mostly.”
The picture she pointed to was printed on glossy paper, rather than photographic paper. It showed Trixie, Honey and Di sitting around a cafe table, drinks in front of them. Diana’s figure was shown in rather unflattering light.
“I think it belongs there,” Trixie told her softly. “It shows that you can survive, even if things don’t go your way. It shows us sticking together when things are tough.”
“And even if that relationship didn’t work out,” Honey added, “you still got a lot out of it that you wouldn’t otherwise have.”
“I think that’s what swayed me in the end,” Di told them, cheering up a little. “I am who I am now because of what happened then.”
The next few pages held a montage of happy memories, each with their own story. Trixie turned page after page and the three sat talking and reminiscing late into the night.
“What’s this?” Trixie asked finally. “No more photos.”
“It’s not like your life ends at 35,” Honey laughed. “You have to add the rest yourself, as they happen.”
“That’s right,” agreed Di. “After all, this is only the beginning.”
The End