Page 108 of Side Trip

CHAPTER 31

AFTER

Joy

Through the kitchen window of Taryn’s Brooklyn apartment, Joy watches Taryn load her last box onto the U-Haul. Joy’s last item, Judy’s hatbox, waits on the tile counter beside her purse. She doesn’t plan to pack it for their drive west. The box holds snippets from her life and Judy’s, treasured lists, article clippings, and photos that make her ache with regret. She’ll keep some, like Judy’s bracelet that she wore at her wedding, and recycle the rest, something she should have done before she moved to New York.

And now she’s moving back to California.

She and Taryn went in together on a condo in Manhattan Beach. Taryn quit her job and plans to start her own social media agency. Surfari Soaps & Salves’ online store has seen promising success, and Joy’s been making plans to open a brick-and-mortar store once she gets settled. Something she hasn’t been for quite some time.

Her divorce from Mark took three months from start to finish, but she’d moved in with Taryn the day she and Mark agreed to separate, which was the day after he’d walked out. Joy didn’t contest anything. They evenly split their assets, except the brownstone. The house was never theirs. It belongs to his parents.

After she and Mark signed the paperwork to finalize their divorce, Joy invited him to coffee. She worried that he’d be angry with her. Does he resent her for marrying him? But he seemed happy. He was dating a woman from his office. Andi. Joy had met her at a company function some years back and has run into her time and again since. She likes Andi, and she’ll be good for Mark. She comes from an old New York family, and she wants children. Lots of them. Joy doubts they’ll waste any time getting started on their first.

Once they finished, and before they parted ways, Joy turned to Mark. “I should have told you about Judy a long time ago. I wish I did.”

He looked past her into the distance, his face closed. “Me too.” He sighed, regretful, and looked back at her. “I hope you find a way to let go of whatever is holding you back.”

“I will.” She was already seeing a therapist who specialized in family trauma. “I do love you,” she said with sincerity.

“I know.” Mark looked at the ground, then lifted his head. “Goodbye, Joy.” He gave her a hug, then hailed a cab.

Joy turns away from the kitchen window and lifts the lid off Judy’s box. A waterfall of memories and emotions pour out. This will be the last time she goes through the box, yet she vividly remembers the first time. The day she lifted the box from Judy’s room.

She’d been standing in Judy’s bedroom doorway, stunned to find the door open. It was the first time she had seen the inside of Judy’s room since her sister’s funeral five months prior. She couldn’t bear going in there, not after what she’d done. Thankfully, her parents kept the door shut, that is, until that day.

Judy’s blinds had been opened to let in the morning light. Empty cardboard boxes sat open on the floor, waiting to be fed records, books, and other knickknacks. Dresser drawers had been pulled open, the clothes removed and stacked on the bed. A noise came from the closet, plastic hangers scraping across the wood clothes rod. Her dad appeared with an armful of skirts. He dropped them on the bed and returned to the closet.

“What are you doing?” Joy asked, going into the room.

Her dad laid another armful on the bed, a rainbow pile of blouses. He removed a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his damp forehead, blotted at the moisture in his eyes. “Uh ... well, I guess we’re packing up Judy’s things.”

“We?”

“Your mom asked me to.”

“Why?” Judy was gone. They couldn’t get rid of her stuff, too. Joy wouldn’t have anything left of her sister.

Fresh tears flowed. They came quickly those days.

“Your mom is having a hard time with your sister’s belongings still being here,” he explained.

They were all having a hard time. Joy especially. She wasn’t only fighting through her grief. She was living in a dark and awful place inside her mind. She’d never be the same again. She would always see herself as the girl who killed her sister.

“What are you going to do with her stuff?”

“We’ll box up some keepsakes. But the rest ...” He swept a hollow gaze around the room. “I guess your mom will have Salvation Army pick it up. Joy?” He methodically folded the handkerchief and returned the soiled cloth to his pocket. “I know I’ve asked before, and I promise it will be the last time.” He lifted his head and looked at her.

Joy’s back prickled. She knew what he was going to ask. As he’d prefaced, he’d asked before. So had the cops and the paramedics.

“What?” Her tone was thin, defensive.

“Why wasn’t Judy wearing a seat belt? I don’t understand how she could forget. She didn’t disregard things like that.”

She didn’t. The front passenger seat didn’t have a working seat belt.

Judy had somehow managed to scoot over into the driver’s seat after Joy passed out, buckled in the back. That was where the rescue crew had found them. But they questioned why Judy’s blood stained the passenger seat and two of Joy’s upper ribs were cracked. One of the EMTs remarked that he’d seen similar cracks from the impact of an airbag. And the only airbag in the car was in the upgraded steering column.

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