Free What My Sister Remembered by Marilyn Sachs Page B

Jeff’s other weirdo friends, I didn’t expect to like her much either.
    Finally, I pulled myself up off the floor and looked in the mirror. My hair was all tangled up, and there was a big, red splotch on one of my cheeks. My shoulder ached as I picked up my hairbrush and started brushing my hair. Next week, for sure, I’d get it cut. Short.
    I could  hear the sounds of voices and  laughter, and I stopped to listen. Alex. It was Alex, not Jeff. Aunt Helene was saying something, and Alex was saying something, and my father’s voice wove itself in and out. I brushed my hair and tied it back into a ponytail. Then I smiled at myself in the mirror. It had felt so good knocking Beth around. My fists clenched. Maybe I’d have another chance before she left.
    I straightened my clothes and joined my family in the living room. Lisa was holding up some pink towels and smiling politely at Aunt Helene.
    “Thank you, Mrs. Lattimore,” she said, and Alex echoed it.
    “Oh please—call me Helene,” Aunt Helene said. “And now, here’s a little something for the baby. Of course, we don’t know whether it’s going to be a boy or a girl, so ...”
    “It’s going to be a boy,” Lisa said. “I’ve had to have two sonograms because I’m having a terrible pregnancy.”
    I turned around and walked out of the room. Lisa just went on and on about all the problems she was having. I’d heard them lots of times, and I didn’t need to hear them again. I moved into the kitchen, cooler now and wonderfully fragrant. The sauce was still cooking, and my mother had all of the other ingredients ready to be assembled.
    I sat down at the kitchen table and looked up at the open window. Funny how Beth kept looking at that window. Why? I wondered. It was just an ordinary little window that looked out into somebody else’s kitchen. What was special about that window?
    Something tinkled from the living room. Our apartment was so small that you could generally hear most noises from one end to the other. Lisa must have finished talking about her pregnancy. I stood up and returned to the living room.
    Lisa had unwrapped the other present—a little music box with a ballet dancer, standing up on one toe, and slowly revolving to a familiar melody.
    “I really wanted some kind of lullaby, but this one was the prettiest,” Aunt Helena said.
    “Just darling,” my mother said, “and you shouldn’t have ... ”
    “It’s cute.” Lisa examined it thoughtfully. “I guess it doesn’t really matter if it’s for a boy.”
    “Well, you could exchange it,” Aunt Helene suggested. “I bought it this morning in a little shop near the hotel. There was a cute circus-music box, and I think a little baseball one.”
    “Really?” Lisa looked interested, but Alex said, “No. I really like this one. And, hey, I used to go to the ballet. Remember, Mom? I loved the Nutcracker, and a couple of times I took Molly.”
    Now he was smiling at me. I moved over to him and leaned against him.
    “Well, we had a lot of names for a girl,” Lisa said, still holding the music box, “but it’s hard thinking of names for a boy. I like Stuart.”
    “Yuk,” I said, “that’s a sissy name. The kids would call him Stew. Nobody wants to be called Stew.”
    “I like it,” Lisa said. “My favorite uncle’s name was Stuart, and everybody called him Spike. Anyway, I like Stuart, and Alex likes Sam. I hate Sam.”
    I hate Sam too,” I said. “I hate Sam as much as I hate Stuart. ”
    “How about Frederick?" Beth suggested. “That’s a nice name, and he could be Freddy for short. That’s cute.”
    Lisa began wrapping up the music box, so I guessed she had decided to keep it. “Girls' names are easy,” she said. “Both of us like Amanda, and we also like Samantha. ”
    “They’d call her Sam,” I said. “That’s terrible for a girl to be Sam. ”
    “Anyway,” Aunt Helene smiled, “maybe you’ll have a girl next time.”
    “I don’t know if there will