Easter story.
Dec. 4th, 2007 11:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
icarusSo instead of doing what I'm supposed to be doing, I'm writing cathartic original fiction.
It took hours of practiced whining for Melinda and Kevin to convince their mom to buy Easter egg dye. Finally, Melinda tried a brilliant combination of logic and blackmail.
"But moooommmm, Andrea's coming over and she's coming over to dye Easter eggs and I can't tell her never mind because we don't have any dye!"
Kevin sat back with an expression of awe at that master stroke. Andrea's mother was one of their mom's harshest critics, who conveyed disapproval without a single word. Her eyes always crawled over their dusty furniture and unwashed dishes, lips pursed with disdain. Mom couldn't back out of inviting Andrea just because she didn't want to deal with a last-minute surprise; she'd already said yes.
Kevin of course knew that Andrea was less than enthusiastic about Easter eggs. "Oh. Okay," she'd said over the phone to Melinda's excited 'Let's dye Easter eggs!' earlier and Kevin privately thought Andrea was kind of dumb, and who cared about dying Easter eggs? He wanted to be at grandma's.
But his sister had hissed at him, "If we dye Easter eggs then we can have our own Easter egg hunt." Her eyebrows raised meaningfully. Oooooh. She smiled and hope sparkled between them.
He and his sister were missing the big Easter egg hunt at grandma's this year. Eight cousins, six dozen eggs and gleeful 20-year-old uncles who had no compunctions about unscrewing a light bulb to hide an egg in its place. Easter with their extended family was a happy, loud game of cunning and skill. But dad had traded Easter for Christmas with them because he was going skiing in Taos, a word he spoke with a faraway look, in tones like it rhymed with 'Oz.'
So Kevin used his big brown on eyes on mom, his softest voice. He was the favorite.
"Please, mom? We don't need Easter baskets." His sister shot him a quelling look. Well, they didn't want to ask too much! "We just want to dye Easter eggs."
"Andrea wants to dye Easter eggs," Melinda added. Just in case. She glared at her brother for almost-ruining her almost-lie.
But it was the big brown eyes that worked, and if he was humble enough just the mention of 'Easter baskets' might suggest to mom… anyway.
With a roll of her eyes, mom gave in, "But I don't promise you there's any dye left. Easter's tomorrow." She shook her head with a puzzled sniff. "I thought you two had outgrown all this."
Their step dad loomed in the background and agreed with a derisive snort. "Little children; age twelve and thirteen, going on seven."
Outgrown it? They'd done the 'big Easter egg hunt' every year since the divorce. They suspected Uncle Russ was the mastermind behind the Easter egg that had been taped, dangling in plain view, like a piece of glass from the chandelier. Not even the oldest of the cousins had found that one. It was so much fun they usually re-hid the eggs for hours afterwards till grandma called a halt for lunch, joking that if they hid them too well, she would find them -- in six months.
Trading Christmas for Easter had really just cancelled Easter.
It was late, Kevin sprawled out watching TV and the lights were all on. Andrea was already there and already bored with Melinda's stuffed toys ("let's listen to Shaun Cassidy records, okay?") when mom returned, eyes squinted in a cringe of apology as she set the bags on the counter. Melinda appeared at her elbow, shadowed by her best friend.
"Honey," mom told Melinda as her daughter rustled the plastic and eagerly pulled out a carton of eggs. She knew who really wanted to dye eggs. "I went to three different stores, and there just wasn't any Easter egg dye left anywhere." A light of hope lit Andrea's face. Mom turned to her and said archly. "I'm sorry, Andrea. It's just that Melinda forgot to tell me about the Easter eggs until just an hour ago." That was for Andrea's mom. Melinda ignored it; Andrea probably hadn't even mentioned the eggs to her mom.
"Oh well, that's okay," Andrea nodded politely, already pulling Melinda away.
"You snooze, you lose," their step dad said gruffly as brushed by them into the narrow kitchen. He stuffed a jug of milk in the fridge.
Kevin sighed and his shoulders sagged. No Easter eggs meant no Easter egg hunt, which meant no Easter. Unless mom remembered Easter baskets, which didn't seem likely since they weren't allowed sugar. He turned back to the TV, but there was nothing on but a stupid Charlie Brown Easter cartoon. Dumb Easter.
"But you got the eggs," Melinda pointed out. She glanced up sharply from those bags.
That was a good point. Kevin brightened, TV forgotten. Andrea's eyes darted from one face to another, trapped. Kevin tried to feel sorry for her, but -- they had eggs. Melinda's jaw was set, her eyes on some invisible horizon that was somewhere past the flowered kitchen wallpaper. They'd have Easter if his sister had to color eggs with Crayolas. He knew her.
He grinned at Andrea and muttered behind a hand, "Easter eggs or death."
She smiled wanly.
Then Kevin cleared his throat and lifted his chin to pretend to watch TV. He didn't want her to think that he actually liked her, she was kind of fat. But he was in a good mood. If Andrea weren't here, he'd be roped into helping his sister's 'master plan.' And now they were going to have Easter tomorrow!
"Well…" mom said reluctantly, pulling two square boxes out of a final smaller bag. "I did find this. But you'll have to use it in the basement."
Clothes dye. Two colors: Red and blue.
"And you can't eat the eggs."
It was Melinda who came up with the stupid idea of using her nail polish on the eggs, which gave them a hundred shades of red and pink, and cheered Andrea immensely. She happily scrawled 'Andrea + Shawn Cassidy' and 'Andrea Cassidy' on half of them which made Melinda cringe, but she didn't say anything.
In the basement they were set up at fold-out table under a bare bulb next to the ironing board and the dryer. They curled their feet up on the chairs; the concrete floor was pretty cold. Andrea was wrapped in a wool blanket that she had better not spill on, and the two of them giggled over the roar of the pump -- probably high on nail-polish fumes. Kevin gagged expressively, but hovered around the weirdness to happily poke fun at it; he refused in principle to use nail polish on anything.
He hopped up onto the dryer with a loud bang of tennis shoes, beamed, and told them that these had to be the tackiest, ugliest Easter eggs he'd ever seen. Andrea stuck out her tongue.
Melinda didn't argue, and looked a little discouraged as she added another hopeless shiny red polka dot; but then she said, "Well. They all hide the same." And brightened. "And if they're red, they might be easier to find this year." Her feet kicked rhythmically under the card table.
Another good point. His big sister could be bossy like Lucy from Charlie Brown, but she had her uses. They told Andrea how last year someone had colored an egg the exact same shade of blue as grandma's hallway.
"It was invisible!" Kevin swore.
At dark, Andrea went home, happy and a little high. Their mom met Andrea's mom at the door, blocking her from coming in the house (although it didn't stop her from peeking). It was just as well. He and his sister had been in a Mexican stand-off about whose turn it was to do the dishes that had been going on for the better part of a week. The sink was full and the counters were overflowing with piles of food encrusted plates and they were running out of dishes. The moldy dish of macaroni that had started the fight was still on the counter. And still moldy.
The vacuum wars had been going on far longer, but they couldn't remember what had started that. Or, well, probably his sister remembered, but he wasn't going to ask. It didn't matter anyway. The vacuum cleaner had broken a while back. (Kevin wasn't sure if mom knew the vacuum was broken but he didn't volunteer the information.)
His sister took a last look at the eggs from the top of the basement stairs.
"They're even tacky from a distance," Kevin said.
His sister shrugged. "They'll work."
They shut off the light.
Kevin woke up first, blearily remembering it was Easter. There was a sort of magic in the air on holidays, though today was silent and sunny. Dust motes floated in the sun in his room. He put on socks and tiptoed across the hall like they did on Christmas mornings.
"Melinda," he hissed a whisper. There was a grumpy groan through the door. He said it louder, "Melinda! It's Easter."
It was cold in the hallway by the time she got up, her long brown hair a rat's nest, sweat pants pulled higher up one leg than the other. Normally at grandma's they got dressed first before looking for the eggs, but Kevin figured they didn't need to be formal here.
"You ready?" he asked, mostly to wake her up. He'd wanted to go, right now, ten minutes ago, but he figured that wouldn't be fair to start first.
She just blinked at him, irritated, like it was his fault she probably stayed up all night reading.
"Okay. I'll just find all the eggs without you...." he said and started down the stairs, nonchalant. That got her.
"Hey!" She took off down the stairs after him and he had to run to keep ahead. They laughed and shoved each other all the way down the steps.
He won, so she snapped, "We'll both start at the same time."
Kevin grinned. That's what he'd wanted. He just didn't want to wait for her.
The Easter egg hunt was underway.
The living room had a million places to hide. Mom collected weird naked art from Mexico so there were nooks and crannies at the bases of statues. A stand up piano to hide them behind. Plants created perfect egg zones, both behind them and hidden in the leaves. There was under the couch and the love seat and places to hide around glass tables and the brass peacock fan and long curtains.
Kevin figured they'd find the easy ones first, but it looked like mom and dad – oh, right, the Easter bunny – had had no mercy. There were no easy ones.
They moved on to the lamp fixtures. All the light bulbs were in place. They reached deeper under the couch. Under the throw pillows? His sister checked on the other side of the piano in case they missed something there. They scratched their heads.
Maybe... maybe since the living room was usually off-limits, the eggs weren't hidden there. His sister suggested it even as he thought it. They wandered into the main entry hall. There were fewer hiding places here. Definitely none where a red nail-polish polka-dot egg could hide.
"Kitchen," she whispered, and began going through the cabinets, the sugar bowl, behind the curtains. It seemed like a strange place though. The kitchen was small. The bathroom? Nah. Kevin searched for other possibilities.
She came out, looking confused. "The dining room," she said, but Kevin shook his head. He'd just come from there.
"You don't think they're outside?" Kevin suggested with a doubtful look. No. No way. He couldn't picture mom and their step dad outside in the freezing cold hiding eggs. His sister dismissed that with a swipe of her hand.
They returned to the living room. Melinda turned in a slow circle, looking for some that were maybe hidden like that blue egg no one had seen? Kevin started to get a bad feeling. He didn't want to suggest the next possibility. She had that intent, tense look, like she could make Easter eggs appear by glaring at the walls. But he had to say it.
"Maybe... the basement?" Kevin said.
"Well, that's a stupid place to hide them but it's the only place left," she said, heading for the basement door with brusque efficiency. She flung it open.
"No, I mean...."
She'd reached the door first and froze in place. He came up behind her, slowly, because he had to see, but he didn't want to either. But he already knew.
There they were in the light from the basement window. Two cartons of red nail-polish polka-dot Easter eggs, still in the box. Unmoved from last night.
Easter hadn't happened after all.
He looked at his sister and couldn't stand the look of shock on her face. He was so sorry. She'd tried so hard. He was already starting to cry when she shrieked, "Mooooooommmmm!" and ran up the stairs, sobbing.
He couldn't keep up with her, she ran up faster than they'd come down. He cried harder when he heard her pounding on their mom's door with both fists. He reached the top of the steps when she drummed on the door again, rattling the handle. It was locked.
"Mom, mom, mom, mom, the Easter bunny didn't come!" She rattled the door handle and then leaned her head against the door, sagged, sobbing loudly, her face beet red.
His sister didn't believe in the Easter bunny though.
He did some three-second math: Mom thought they still believed in Santa Claus. Mom had terrible Christmases when she was little and tried to make Christmas perfect. Belief in Easter bunny = belief Santa Claus. Easter bunny didn't come = Santa Claus didn't come. Hit and sunk.
His sister was more than crying. She was angry. Really angry.
Kevin approached warily. His sister in a bad mood threw things. He didn't know what was going to happen now. He stayed a few feet back.
It actually could kind of interesting.
Because, come to think of it, he was kind of pissed, too. How could they forget Easter?
Their mom's soft laughter came through the door. "The Easter bunny...?" Their step dad started snickering.
This made Melinda really mad. Kevin was glad he'd stayed back. She was still crying but she rattled door handle even harder, scrabbling in fury. "Unlock this door!" Then she slammed her shoulder into the door like she was going to break it down. And did it again, harder.
He'd seen her almost break the panel out of a door before. It was somewhere between scary and impressive and hilarious. Because she went berserk and was only four foot eleven and shouldn't be able to do that.
"Hey!" his mom and step dad shouted at the same time.
Well. At least they weren't laughing anymore. Kevin folded his arms.
There was a fast rustle of sheets on the other side of the door, familiar thudding footsteps, and their step dad, a burly man with a blond beard and red face, flung the door open.
His sister jerked away. She'd almost fallen through. Kevin found he'd backed towards his room.
"No!" their step dad yelled like he was reprimanding the cats. "Don't. Do that!"
His sister stood there. Then her shoulders slumped and she fell apart, just kept crying and crying, not mad anymore. Kevin crept forward, confused.
"You... care... more about... the- the door... than...E... Eas—" She hiccuped through it, and wiped at her face like she was trying hard to stop. Snot strung from her nose to her hands. It was really gross.
Kevin heard mom say, half laughing, "Oh, God, I'm the worst mother in the world. My kids are going to spend the rest of their lives in therapy because the Easter bunny didn't come."
"Jesus Christ...." their step dad said. He brushed between Kevin and Melinda, moving a little too fast. Kevin startled back a step. But he ignored Kevin and went into the bathroom. There was the spinning sound of the toilet paper roll and he returned, handing Melinda a wad of tissue.
"Thank you," she snuffled in a small voice, visibly trying to control her sobs. Her chest and shoulders shook. She blew her nose.
Their mom gave a windy sigh. "Okay," she said, like she'd come to a decision. "Kevin? Where are you? I know you're out there somewhere."
Kevin peeked around the door, sort of grateful she'd remembered him. Sometimes in the middle of his sister's drama he got forgotten. He wiped his wet face on his sleeve.
Mom clapped her hands and said in a bright voice, "It's time for bribery. There's been enough crying for today. How would you two like Easter baskets?"
Kevin paused. He'd wanted an Easter basket all along. He'd hoped for an Easter egg hunt and an Easter basket, but this was better than nothing.
His sister still stuttered with occasional sobs. The look she gave mom was bloody murder. Why didn't Melinda want an Easter basket? It was at least something.
"Kevin looks interested...." Their mom gave a play-by-play.
Melinda's glare turned to Kevin. Her hand had gone to her hip and her lower lip was out in a stubborn expression. Her eyes said, Don't do it, Kevin, you traitor.
Thanks, mom, he thought.
"Annnnd... Melinda is going for guilt."
And, yep, Melinda folded her arms, tissue crushed in her hand.
"Okay. I can understand that. You certainly can opt for that. But," and Kevin could hear in mom's cheerful tone the condition coming, "here's the deal. Either you both get Easter baskets." She paused. "Or neither of you do."
Kevin turned to Melinda, pleading and horrified. His sister was determined enough to cost them both Easter baskets and ruin everything. "Melinda...."
"And it's a limited time offer," their mom said. "Going once... going twice...."
"Please...?" Kevin pleaded to his sister, shrinking in on himself.
Melinda's eyes bugged out in her fiercest No, don't fall for it, don't sell out! expression. Kevin gave her the Please don't do this to me puppy eyes.
"Melinda is standing her ground," their mom's play-by-play continued. "Well, you drive a hard bargain. And I'll feel guilty all right. But here's the deal." She paused again. "I will feel guilty for exactly one week. That's it. That's all you get."
Yes! Internally, Kevin pumped his fist, though he kept his face carefully schooled while his sister decided. But he could tell. He saw her look at the ground, her stance shift.
"Melinda's weakening...." the play-by-play continued. "Chocolate bunnies... marshmallow peeps...."
Kevin was annoyed at mom for rubbing it in. Melinda might change her mind!
But his sister sighed and said, her eyes drawing a narrow bead of suspicion on their mother, "Okay, I guess."
"Good decision," mom said. Then she turned to their step dad. "Al? Go buy them some Easter baskets," she said him with a sweep of her hand.
"No!" Melinda said, eyes wide.
Their step dad fixed a steady look of loathing on Kevin and Melinda. Then with a growl like a tired bear he snatched a pair of jeans off the dresser and stormed out. The door slammed behind him. He'd be mad for days.
"Mom!" said Kevin, panicked. Their step dad came down harder on him because Melinda was a girl. "You said that you'd...."
Their mom chortled, wagging her finger. "No, I never said that I was going to buy them." She beamed at them in victorious amusement.
"Mom!" Melinda snapped in a tone mom didn't usually allow. She shot Kevin her I told you so and This is your fault stabbing glare. Kevin looked at the floor, glum. He'd trusted mom.
Melinda spun around and stomped out of the room. Her bedroom door slammed. Then Kevin went to his room and shut his door quietly. He never wanted to see another Easter egg so long as he lived.
Kevin was deep into a drawing of an orc for Dungeons & Dragons when he heard the cartoons playing downstairs. Then the clank of a spoon in a cereal bowl. He hadn't eaten yet. He was suddenly hungry. He wondered if his sister would let him live if he came within fifty feet of her.
He brought the drawing down with him and poured a big bowl of cereal. He approached his sister with a mournful hangdog look.
"I'm sorry-?" He gave her the cute-face and she melted and smiled.
Good. She wasn't that mad any more. Cartoons put her in a good mood. Feeling safer, Kevin sat down next to her to watch the cartoons. The Sunday morning ones were lame.
"It's not you, it's mom," she said at the commercial, pouting. She directed a flicker of anger down at her cereal bowl, scraping it. Okay, so she was still mad.
Kevin nodded, philosophical.
"But you shouldn't have listened to her," she said.
"I thought she was going to get us Easter baskets!" Kevin said.
"I know." His sister melted again, with a sad little sigh. "Me, too."
They heard their step dad's motorcycle pull up, rumbling. He'd been gone for over an hour. It grew quieter as he rolled into the garage. Moments later, the front door opened wide. Their step dad wiped his feet then strode into the living room. He stuffed one Easter basket into Kevin's arms. Hard. Then Melinda jolted back as he practically threw the other one at her.
"Here. Easter baskets." The swear words went unspoken.
He took the staircase two steps at a time. The two kids stared after him.
"Well," said Kevin, dripping with irony. He raised his eyebrows. "We got Easter baskets."
His sister turned to stare at him.
"Happy Easter?" he said with a wan smile.
She snorted with laughter. "Happy Easter," she said, with a ragged slightly hysterical edge to her voice. She held her Easter basket like it contained dead toads.
Kevin eyed his basket. Then hers. "Are you going to open it?"
"No."
He nodded again, then took his basket to the dining room. He could only kind of see the cartoons from here, but they weren't allowed to eat in the living room. "Well, I'm going to open mine," he said challengingly.
Kevin studied his. It was a pretty good Easter basket. Big. A wide variety of taped down candy. Ha. Al had taken the time to pick the best ones. That's why he was gone so long. He heard the crumple of plastic wrap in the living room. His sister was unwrapping hers where she sat slumped with her back against the couch.
"Uh," Kevin said, his eyes getting big. He couldn't take it if his sister escalated this. "You're not supposed to eat in the living room...."
"I don't care."
Great. Kevin wondered if it was disloyal to retreat to his room, then remembered he couldn't eat in his bedroom anyway. Of course, they ate in their rooms all the time, and chucked the dishes full of food under their beds when their mom came home – that's where the moldy macaroni dish had come from in the first place – but he wouldn't be able to fit a whole Easter basket under there.
He sighed, resigned to a really terrible day.
It was noon by the time mom came downstairs, wrapped in a white bathrobe, cheery and bright-eyed. She stopped halfway down the steps, eyes on the living room. Kevin paused. Melinda was sitting in line of sight. With her Easter basket. Melinda bit off the ear of a chocolate rabbit and chewed deliberately. Never taking her eyes off mom. The tension hung like a line between them.
"Okay," their mom said. "I don't blame you." Then she turned to Kevin. "Kevin, you're too good. Go ahead and eat in the living room with your sister."
Kevin blinked at her in total disbelief. No more fighting?
"Yes, yes, your Easter basket. Go on." She waved a hand and then went to the kitchen.
He picked up the basket and stepped sheepishly into the living room with a mincing step like he was treading on hallowed ground. He wasn't too good. They ate in the living room all the time. He just wasn't stupid. Or crazy enough to do it in front of mom.
He heard the dishes collapse in the sink and then the sound of the faucet as their mom washed a plate for breakfast. The toaster popped up moments later. Their mom disappeared upstairs with soft footsteps. His sister hadn't stopped staring at the TV the whole time, even though it had switched to a televangelist preaching about the sacredness of Easter. Jesus had risen from the dead, leaving his tomb. It seemed pretty grim. Kevin thought if he'd been one of the apostles he would have freaked out.
"Well," Kevin said at last. "Looks like you won." He gave her his driest and aren't we lucky smirk.
Melinda turned to give him a stunned look. Then said, "No. I didn't."
Epilogue:
The following Easter no one said word one about Easter eggs.
Kevin did drop a few broad hints in the car about Easter baskets, hopeful. At least they could do this much--? But their mom had answered with an oblivious Easter candy rots your teeth and Candy isn't the point of Easter, Kevin -- which made him feel guilty for cheapening Easter just by asking.
He slept in Easter morning – over the last year he'd discovered sleep was good – and cracked an eye open at a soft but insistent pounding. At first he thought it was at his door, but sitting up, he realized it came from down the hall. The hiss of his sister's voice, a little too loud to be a whisper, "Mom. He's been talking about Easter baskets all week."
Melinda had traded in hysterics for sarcasm somewhere between her thirteenth and fourteenth birthday, and somehow it irritated mom more. He couldn't make out the rest of the conversation, the argument sharp, but he stayed where he was.
"...Then I will!"
He hid back under the covers as his sister's footsteps passed the door, moving fast. He did not want a repeat of last year. This time he planned to sleep right through it.
Far away, there was a hum and rumble as the garage door opened, then rolled back down. He peered out the window. It was raining but he could see his sister's light blue windbreaker and her yellow Schwinn as she rode away. He went back to bed.
He was half-awake when his bedroom door squeaked open. He squeezed his eyes shut, fast, but not before he saw a blue windbreaker and smelled rain and wet grass. Soft footsteps went so slow, it was hard for him to keep still. His nose was getting itchy. Finally he scratched it.
The Easter basket nearly fell over on his desk as his sister scuttled away -- as if he hadn't seen her. Kevin rolled his eyes. This was why her Dungeons & Dragons characters always died in under three minutes. She couldn't strategize for anything.
He thought about pretending to sleep a little longer but, hey, there was an Easter basket waiting. Curiosity got the best of him. He sat up. Yep. It was one of the big ones. And his sister knew exactly which candy he liked. No black jelly beans in this one. A big chocolate rabbit. All candy, no stupid toys.
Kevin pulled on some sweat pants and wandered across the hall. He knocked on Melinda's door.
"I'm reading," she snapped.
"Uh...." He tried to figure out what to say. "The Easter bunny was here."
"Really?" She sounded pleased with herself.
"Um," he said. He switched tacks. "So. What did you get in your Easter basket?"
There was a moment of dead air. In a flash of understanding Kevin realized she didn't have an Easter basket.
"I already ate mine," she said quickly. And a little too late.
There was a moment as he processed this. He hovered outside her door. "Um. So. Thank you...um...."
"For what?" There was a defensive note in her voice.
"I, uh...." How did he explain this? Kevin ran his hand through his hair, shuffling his feet. "I kinda saw something... earlier."
"It was the Easter bunny."
Right.
He thought it over. His Easter basket was pretty big and it was only fair.... "Do you want some of my jelly beans?" Kevin said.
"I have my own."
Aha! Kevin smirked and leaned against the doorjamb. "Thought you said that you ate yours."
"I ate them, I mean that I had my own, before," she said, flustered, "before I ate them. Now, uh, leave me alone – can't you tell I'm reading? Stop bugging me!"
"Okay, well." He shrugged. "Thanks."
"Happy Easter," she said. And he could hear her smiling.
It took hours of practiced whining for Melinda and Kevin to convince their mom to buy Easter egg dye. Finally, Melinda tried a brilliant combination of logic and blackmail.
"But moooommmm, Andrea's coming over and she's coming over to dye Easter eggs and I can't tell her never mind because we don't have any dye!"
Kevin sat back with an expression of awe at that master stroke. Andrea's mother was one of their mom's harshest critics, who conveyed disapproval without a single word. Her eyes always crawled over their dusty furniture and unwashed dishes, lips pursed with disdain. Mom couldn't back out of inviting Andrea just because she didn't want to deal with a last-minute surprise; she'd already said yes.
Kevin of course knew that Andrea was less than enthusiastic about Easter eggs. "Oh. Okay," she'd said over the phone to Melinda's excited 'Let's dye Easter eggs!' earlier and Kevin privately thought Andrea was kind of dumb, and who cared about dying Easter eggs? He wanted to be at grandma's.
But his sister had hissed at him, "If we dye Easter eggs then we can have our own Easter egg hunt." Her eyebrows raised meaningfully. Oooooh. She smiled and hope sparkled between them.
He and his sister were missing the big Easter egg hunt at grandma's this year. Eight cousins, six dozen eggs and gleeful 20-year-old uncles who had no compunctions about unscrewing a light bulb to hide an egg in its place. Easter with their extended family was a happy, loud game of cunning and skill. But dad had traded Easter for Christmas with them because he was going skiing in Taos, a word he spoke with a faraway look, in tones like it rhymed with 'Oz.'
So Kevin used his big brown on eyes on mom, his softest voice. He was the favorite.
"Please, mom? We don't need Easter baskets." His sister shot him a quelling look. Well, they didn't want to ask too much! "We just want to dye Easter eggs."
"Andrea wants to dye Easter eggs," Melinda added. Just in case. She glared at her brother for almost-ruining her almost-lie.
But it was the big brown eyes that worked, and if he was humble enough just the mention of 'Easter baskets' might suggest to mom… anyway.
With a roll of her eyes, mom gave in, "But I don't promise you there's any dye left. Easter's tomorrow." She shook her head with a puzzled sniff. "I thought you two had outgrown all this."
Their step dad loomed in the background and agreed with a derisive snort. "Little children; age twelve and thirteen, going on seven."
Outgrown it? They'd done the 'big Easter egg hunt' every year since the divorce. They suspected Uncle Russ was the mastermind behind the Easter egg that had been taped, dangling in plain view, like a piece of glass from the chandelier. Not even the oldest of the cousins had found that one. It was so much fun they usually re-hid the eggs for hours afterwards till grandma called a halt for lunch, joking that if they hid them too well, she would find them -- in six months.
Trading Christmas for Easter had really just cancelled Easter.
It was late, Kevin sprawled out watching TV and the lights were all on. Andrea was already there and already bored with Melinda's stuffed toys ("let's listen to Shaun Cassidy records, okay?") when mom returned, eyes squinted in a cringe of apology as she set the bags on the counter. Melinda appeared at her elbow, shadowed by her best friend.
"Honey," mom told Melinda as her daughter rustled the plastic and eagerly pulled out a carton of eggs. She knew who really wanted to dye eggs. "I went to three different stores, and there just wasn't any Easter egg dye left anywhere." A light of hope lit Andrea's face. Mom turned to her and said archly. "I'm sorry, Andrea. It's just that Melinda forgot to tell me about the Easter eggs until just an hour ago." That was for Andrea's mom. Melinda ignored it; Andrea probably hadn't even mentioned the eggs to her mom.
"Oh well, that's okay," Andrea nodded politely, already pulling Melinda away.
"You snooze, you lose," their step dad said gruffly as brushed by them into the narrow kitchen. He stuffed a jug of milk in the fridge.
Kevin sighed and his shoulders sagged. No Easter eggs meant no Easter egg hunt, which meant no Easter. Unless mom remembered Easter baskets, which didn't seem likely since they weren't allowed sugar. He turned back to the TV, but there was nothing on but a stupid Charlie Brown Easter cartoon. Dumb Easter.
"But you got the eggs," Melinda pointed out. She glanced up sharply from those bags.
That was a good point. Kevin brightened, TV forgotten. Andrea's eyes darted from one face to another, trapped. Kevin tried to feel sorry for her, but -- they had eggs. Melinda's jaw was set, her eyes on some invisible horizon that was somewhere past the flowered kitchen wallpaper. They'd have Easter if his sister had to color eggs with Crayolas. He knew her.
He grinned at Andrea and muttered behind a hand, "Easter eggs or death."
She smiled wanly.
Then Kevin cleared his throat and lifted his chin to pretend to watch TV. He didn't want her to think that he actually liked her, she was kind of fat. But he was in a good mood. If Andrea weren't here, he'd be roped into helping his sister's 'master plan.' And now they were going to have Easter tomorrow!
"Well…" mom said reluctantly, pulling two square boxes out of a final smaller bag. "I did find this. But you'll have to use it in the basement."
Clothes dye. Two colors: Red and blue.
"And you can't eat the eggs."
It was Melinda who came up with the stupid idea of using her nail polish on the eggs, which gave them a hundred shades of red and pink, and cheered Andrea immensely. She happily scrawled 'Andrea + Shawn Cassidy' and 'Andrea Cassidy' on half of them which made Melinda cringe, but she didn't say anything.
In the basement they were set up at fold-out table under a bare bulb next to the ironing board and the dryer. They curled their feet up on the chairs; the concrete floor was pretty cold. Andrea was wrapped in a wool blanket that she had better not spill on, and the two of them giggled over the roar of the pump -- probably high on nail-polish fumes. Kevin gagged expressively, but hovered around the weirdness to happily poke fun at it; he refused in principle to use nail polish on anything.
He hopped up onto the dryer with a loud bang of tennis shoes, beamed, and told them that these had to be the tackiest, ugliest Easter eggs he'd ever seen. Andrea stuck out her tongue.
Melinda didn't argue, and looked a little discouraged as she added another hopeless shiny red polka dot; but then she said, "Well. They all hide the same." And brightened. "And if they're red, they might be easier to find this year." Her feet kicked rhythmically under the card table.
Another good point. His big sister could be bossy like Lucy from Charlie Brown, but she had her uses. They told Andrea how last year someone had colored an egg the exact same shade of blue as grandma's hallway.
"It was invisible!" Kevin swore.
At dark, Andrea went home, happy and a little high. Their mom met Andrea's mom at the door, blocking her from coming in the house (although it didn't stop her from peeking). It was just as well. He and his sister had been in a Mexican stand-off about whose turn it was to do the dishes that had been going on for the better part of a week. The sink was full and the counters were overflowing with piles of food encrusted plates and they were running out of dishes. The moldy dish of macaroni that had started the fight was still on the counter. And still moldy.
The vacuum wars had been going on far longer, but they couldn't remember what had started that. Or, well, probably his sister remembered, but he wasn't going to ask. It didn't matter anyway. The vacuum cleaner had broken a while back. (Kevin wasn't sure if mom knew the vacuum was broken but he didn't volunteer the information.)
His sister took a last look at the eggs from the top of the basement stairs.
"They're even tacky from a distance," Kevin said.
His sister shrugged. "They'll work."
They shut off the light.
Kevin woke up first, blearily remembering it was Easter. There was a sort of magic in the air on holidays, though today was silent and sunny. Dust motes floated in the sun in his room. He put on socks and tiptoed across the hall like they did on Christmas mornings.
"Melinda," he hissed a whisper. There was a grumpy groan through the door. He said it louder, "Melinda! It's Easter."
It was cold in the hallway by the time she got up, her long brown hair a rat's nest, sweat pants pulled higher up one leg than the other. Normally at grandma's they got dressed first before looking for the eggs, but Kevin figured they didn't need to be formal here.
"You ready?" he asked, mostly to wake her up. He'd wanted to go, right now, ten minutes ago, but he figured that wouldn't be fair to start first.
She just blinked at him, irritated, like it was his fault she probably stayed up all night reading.
"Okay. I'll just find all the eggs without you...." he said and started down the stairs, nonchalant. That got her.
"Hey!" She took off down the stairs after him and he had to run to keep ahead. They laughed and shoved each other all the way down the steps.
He won, so she snapped, "We'll both start at the same time."
Kevin grinned. That's what he'd wanted. He just didn't want to wait for her.
The Easter egg hunt was underway.
The living room had a million places to hide. Mom collected weird naked art from Mexico so there were nooks and crannies at the bases of statues. A stand up piano to hide them behind. Plants created perfect egg zones, both behind them and hidden in the leaves. There was under the couch and the love seat and places to hide around glass tables and the brass peacock fan and long curtains.
Kevin figured they'd find the easy ones first, but it looked like mom and dad – oh, right, the Easter bunny – had had no mercy. There were no easy ones.
They moved on to the lamp fixtures. All the light bulbs were in place. They reached deeper under the couch. Under the throw pillows? His sister checked on the other side of the piano in case they missed something there. They scratched their heads.
Maybe... maybe since the living room was usually off-limits, the eggs weren't hidden there. His sister suggested it even as he thought it. They wandered into the main entry hall. There were fewer hiding places here. Definitely none where a red nail-polish polka-dot egg could hide.
"Kitchen," she whispered, and began going through the cabinets, the sugar bowl, behind the curtains. It seemed like a strange place though. The kitchen was small. The bathroom? Nah. Kevin searched for other possibilities.
She came out, looking confused. "The dining room," she said, but Kevin shook his head. He'd just come from there.
"You don't think they're outside?" Kevin suggested with a doubtful look. No. No way. He couldn't picture mom and their step dad outside in the freezing cold hiding eggs. His sister dismissed that with a swipe of her hand.
They returned to the living room. Melinda turned in a slow circle, looking for some that were maybe hidden like that blue egg no one had seen? Kevin started to get a bad feeling. He didn't want to suggest the next possibility. She had that intent, tense look, like she could make Easter eggs appear by glaring at the walls. But he had to say it.
"Maybe... the basement?" Kevin said.
"Well, that's a stupid place to hide them but it's the only place left," she said, heading for the basement door with brusque efficiency. She flung it open.
"No, I mean...."
She'd reached the door first and froze in place. He came up behind her, slowly, because he had to see, but he didn't want to either. But he already knew.
There they were in the light from the basement window. Two cartons of red nail-polish polka-dot Easter eggs, still in the box. Unmoved from last night.
Easter hadn't happened after all.
He looked at his sister and couldn't stand the look of shock on her face. He was so sorry. She'd tried so hard. He was already starting to cry when she shrieked, "Mooooooommmmm!" and ran up the stairs, sobbing.
He couldn't keep up with her, she ran up faster than they'd come down. He cried harder when he heard her pounding on their mom's door with both fists. He reached the top of the steps when she drummed on the door again, rattling the handle. It was locked.
"Mom, mom, mom, mom, the Easter bunny didn't come!" She rattled the door handle and then leaned her head against the door, sagged, sobbing loudly, her face beet red.
His sister didn't believe in the Easter bunny though.
He did some three-second math: Mom thought they still believed in Santa Claus. Mom had terrible Christmases when she was little and tried to make Christmas perfect. Belief in Easter bunny = belief Santa Claus. Easter bunny didn't come = Santa Claus didn't come. Hit and sunk.
His sister was more than crying. She was angry. Really angry.
Kevin approached warily. His sister in a bad mood threw things. He didn't know what was going to happen now. He stayed a few feet back.
It actually could kind of interesting.
Because, come to think of it, he was kind of pissed, too. How could they forget Easter?
Their mom's soft laughter came through the door. "The Easter bunny...?" Their step dad started snickering.
This made Melinda really mad. Kevin was glad he'd stayed back. She was still crying but she rattled door handle even harder, scrabbling in fury. "Unlock this door!" Then she slammed her shoulder into the door like she was going to break it down. And did it again, harder.
He'd seen her almost break the panel out of a door before. It was somewhere between scary and impressive and hilarious. Because she went berserk and was only four foot eleven and shouldn't be able to do that.
"Hey!" his mom and step dad shouted at the same time.
Well. At least they weren't laughing anymore. Kevin folded his arms.
There was a fast rustle of sheets on the other side of the door, familiar thudding footsteps, and their step dad, a burly man with a blond beard and red face, flung the door open.
His sister jerked away. She'd almost fallen through. Kevin found he'd backed towards his room.
"No!" their step dad yelled like he was reprimanding the cats. "Don't. Do that!"
His sister stood there. Then her shoulders slumped and she fell apart, just kept crying and crying, not mad anymore. Kevin crept forward, confused.
"You... care... more about... the- the door... than...E... Eas—" She hiccuped through it, and wiped at her face like she was trying hard to stop. Snot strung from her nose to her hands. It was really gross.
Kevin heard mom say, half laughing, "Oh, God, I'm the worst mother in the world. My kids are going to spend the rest of their lives in therapy because the Easter bunny didn't come."
"Jesus Christ...." their step dad said. He brushed between Kevin and Melinda, moving a little too fast. Kevin startled back a step. But he ignored Kevin and went into the bathroom. There was the spinning sound of the toilet paper roll and he returned, handing Melinda a wad of tissue.
"Thank you," she snuffled in a small voice, visibly trying to control her sobs. Her chest and shoulders shook. She blew her nose.
Their mom gave a windy sigh. "Okay," she said, like she'd come to a decision. "Kevin? Where are you? I know you're out there somewhere."
Kevin peeked around the door, sort of grateful she'd remembered him. Sometimes in the middle of his sister's drama he got forgotten. He wiped his wet face on his sleeve.
Mom clapped her hands and said in a bright voice, "It's time for bribery. There's been enough crying for today. How would you two like Easter baskets?"
Kevin paused. He'd wanted an Easter basket all along. He'd hoped for an Easter egg hunt and an Easter basket, but this was better than nothing.
His sister still stuttered with occasional sobs. The look she gave mom was bloody murder. Why didn't Melinda want an Easter basket? It was at least something.
"Kevin looks interested...." Their mom gave a play-by-play.
Melinda's glare turned to Kevin. Her hand had gone to her hip and her lower lip was out in a stubborn expression. Her eyes said, Don't do it, Kevin, you traitor.
Thanks, mom, he thought.
"Annnnd... Melinda is going for guilt."
And, yep, Melinda folded her arms, tissue crushed in her hand.
"Okay. I can understand that. You certainly can opt for that. But," and Kevin could hear in mom's cheerful tone the condition coming, "here's the deal. Either you both get Easter baskets." She paused. "Or neither of you do."
Kevin turned to Melinda, pleading and horrified. His sister was determined enough to cost them both Easter baskets and ruin everything. "Melinda...."
"And it's a limited time offer," their mom said. "Going once... going twice...."
"Please...?" Kevin pleaded to his sister, shrinking in on himself.
Melinda's eyes bugged out in her fiercest No, don't fall for it, don't sell out! expression. Kevin gave her the Please don't do this to me puppy eyes.
"Melinda is standing her ground," their mom's play-by-play continued. "Well, you drive a hard bargain. And I'll feel guilty all right. But here's the deal." She paused again. "I will feel guilty for exactly one week. That's it. That's all you get."
Yes! Internally, Kevin pumped his fist, though he kept his face carefully schooled while his sister decided. But he could tell. He saw her look at the ground, her stance shift.
"Melinda's weakening...." the play-by-play continued. "Chocolate bunnies... marshmallow peeps...."
Kevin was annoyed at mom for rubbing it in. Melinda might change her mind!
But his sister sighed and said, her eyes drawing a narrow bead of suspicion on their mother, "Okay, I guess."
"Good decision," mom said. Then she turned to their step dad. "Al? Go buy them some Easter baskets," she said him with a sweep of her hand.
"No!" Melinda said, eyes wide.
Their step dad fixed a steady look of loathing on Kevin and Melinda. Then with a growl like a tired bear he snatched a pair of jeans off the dresser and stormed out. The door slammed behind him. He'd be mad for days.
"Mom!" said Kevin, panicked. Their step dad came down harder on him because Melinda was a girl. "You said that you'd...."
Their mom chortled, wagging her finger. "No, I never said that I was going to buy them." She beamed at them in victorious amusement.
"Mom!" Melinda snapped in a tone mom didn't usually allow. She shot Kevin her I told you so and This is your fault stabbing glare. Kevin looked at the floor, glum. He'd trusted mom.
Melinda spun around and stomped out of the room. Her bedroom door slammed. Then Kevin went to his room and shut his door quietly. He never wanted to see another Easter egg so long as he lived.
Kevin was deep into a drawing of an orc for Dungeons & Dragons when he heard the cartoons playing downstairs. Then the clank of a spoon in a cereal bowl. He hadn't eaten yet. He was suddenly hungry. He wondered if his sister would let him live if he came within fifty feet of her.
He brought the drawing down with him and poured a big bowl of cereal. He approached his sister with a mournful hangdog look.
"I'm sorry-?" He gave her the cute-face and she melted and smiled.
Good. She wasn't that mad any more. Cartoons put her in a good mood. Feeling safer, Kevin sat down next to her to watch the cartoons. The Sunday morning ones were lame.
"It's not you, it's mom," she said at the commercial, pouting. She directed a flicker of anger down at her cereal bowl, scraping it. Okay, so she was still mad.
Kevin nodded, philosophical.
"But you shouldn't have listened to her," she said.
"I thought she was going to get us Easter baskets!" Kevin said.
"I know." His sister melted again, with a sad little sigh. "Me, too."
They heard their step dad's motorcycle pull up, rumbling. He'd been gone for over an hour. It grew quieter as he rolled into the garage. Moments later, the front door opened wide. Their step dad wiped his feet then strode into the living room. He stuffed one Easter basket into Kevin's arms. Hard. Then Melinda jolted back as he practically threw the other one at her.
"Here. Easter baskets." The swear words went unspoken.
He took the staircase two steps at a time. The two kids stared after him.
"Well," said Kevin, dripping with irony. He raised his eyebrows. "We got Easter baskets."
His sister turned to stare at him.
"Happy Easter?" he said with a wan smile.
She snorted with laughter. "Happy Easter," she said, with a ragged slightly hysterical edge to her voice. She held her Easter basket like it contained dead toads.
Kevin eyed his basket. Then hers. "Are you going to open it?"
"No."
He nodded again, then took his basket to the dining room. He could only kind of see the cartoons from here, but they weren't allowed to eat in the living room. "Well, I'm going to open mine," he said challengingly.
Kevin studied his. It was a pretty good Easter basket. Big. A wide variety of taped down candy. Ha. Al had taken the time to pick the best ones. That's why he was gone so long. He heard the crumple of plastic wrap in the living room. His sister was unwrapping hers where she sat slumped with her back against the couch.
"Uh," Kevin said, his eyes getting big. He couldn't take it if his sister escalated this. "You're not supposed to eat in the living room...."
"I don't care."
Great. Kevin wondered if it was disloyal to retreat to his room, then remembered he couldn't eat in his bedroom anyway. Of course, they ate in their rooms all the time, and chucked the dishes full of food under their beds when their mom came home – that's where the moldy macaroni dish had come from in the first place – but he wouldn't be able to fit a whole Easter basket under there.
He sighed, resigned to a really terrible day.
It was noon by the time mom came downstairs, wrapped in a white bathrobe, cheery and bright-eyed. She stopped halfway down the steps, eyes on the living room. Kevin paused. Melinda was sitting in line of sight. With her Easter basket. Melinda bit off the ear of a chocolate rabbit and chewed deliberately. Never taking her eyes off mom. The tension hung like a line between them.
"Okay," their mom said. "I don't blame you." Then she turned to Kevin. "Kevin, you're too good. Go ahead and eat in the living room with your sister."
Kevin blinked at her in total disbelief. No more fighting?
"Yes, yes, your Easter basket. Go on." She waved a hand and then went to the kitchen.
He picked up the basket and stepped sheepishly into the living room with a mincing step like he was treading on hallowed ground. He wasn't too good. They ate in the living room all the time. He just wasn't stupid. Or crazy enough to do it in front of mom.
He heard the dishes collapse in the sink and then the sound of the faucet as their mom washed a plate for breakfast. The toaster popped up moments later. Their mom disappeared upstairs with soft footsteps. His sister hadn't stopped staring at the TV the whole time, even though it had switched to a televangelist preaching about the sacredness of Easter. Jesus had risen from the dead, leaving his tomb. It seemed pretty grim. Kevin thought if he'd been one of the apostles he would have freaked out.
"Well," Kevin said at last. "Looks like you won." He gave her his driest and aren't we lucky smirk.
Melinda turned to give him a stunned look. Then said, "No. I didn't."
Epilogue:
The following Easter no one said word one about Easter eggs.
Kevin did drop a few broad hints in the car about Easter baskets, hopeful. At least they could do this much--? But their mom had answered with an oblivious Easter candy rots your teeth and Candy isn't the point of Easter, Kevin -- which made him feel guilty for cheapening Easter just by asking.
He slept in Easter morning – over the last year he'd discovered sleep was good – and cracked an eye open at a soft but insistent pounding. At first he thought it was at his door, but sitting up, he realized it came from down the hall. The hiss of his sister's voice, a little too loud to be a whisper, "Mom. He's been talking about Easter baskets all week."
Melinda had traded in hysterics for sarcasm somewhere between her thirteenth and fourteenth birthday, and somehow it irritated mom more. He couldn't make out the rest of the conversation, the argument sharp, but he stayed where he was.
"...Then I will!"
He hid back under the covers as his sister's footsteps passed the door, moving fast. He did not want a repeat of last year. This time he planned to sleep right through it.
Far away, there was a hum and rumble as the garage door opened, then rolled back down. He peered out the window. It was raining but he could see his sister's light blue windbreaker and her yellow Schwinn as she rode away. He went back to bed.
He was half-awake when his bedroom door squeaked open. He squeezed his eyes shut, fast, but not before he saw a blue windbreaker and smelled rain and wet grass. Soft footsteps went so slow, it was hard for him to keep still. His nose was getting itchy. Finally he scratched it.
The Easter basket nearly fell over on his desk as his sister scuttled away -- as if he hadn't seen her. Kevin rolled his eyes. This was why her Dungeons & Dragons characters always died in under three minutes. She couldn't strategize for anything.
He thought about pretending to sleep a little longer but, hey, there was an Easter basket waiting. Curiosity got the best of him. He sat up. Yep. It was one of the big ones. And his sister knew exactly which candy he liked. No black jelly beans in this one. A big chocolate rabbit. All candy, no stupid toys.
Kevin pulled on some sweat pants and wandered across the hall. He knocked on Melinda's door.
"I'm reading," she snapped.
"Uh...." He tried to figure out what to say. "The Easter bunny was here."
"Really?" She sounded pleased with herself.
"Um," he said. He switched tacks. "So. What did you get in your Easter basket?"
There was a moment of dead air. In a flash of understanding Kevin realized she didn't have an Easter basket.
"I already ate mine," she said quickly. And a little too late.
There was a moment as he processed this. He hovered outside her door. "Um. So. Thank you...um...."
"For what?" There was a defensive note in her voice.
"I, uh...." How did he explain this? Kevin ran his hand through his hair, shuffling his feet. "I kinda saw something... earlier."
"It was the Easter bunny."
Right.
He thought it over. His Easter basket was pretty big and it was only fair.... "Do you want some of my jelly beans?" Kevin said.
"I have my own."
Aha! Kevin smirked and leaned against the doorjamb. "Thought you said that you ate yours."
"I ate them, I mean that I had my own, before," she said, flustered, "before I ate them. Now, uh, leave me alone – can't you tell I'm reading? Stop bugging me!"
"Okay, well." He shrugged. "Thanks."
"Happy Easter," she said. And he could hear her smiling.
