Killing Me Softly (#Wattys2016)

SEVEN

SEVEN

New York had been under a gentle, misty rain for five days straight. The pitter-patter of raindrops against the window of her thirty-fifth floor apartment on Manhattan's Upper East Side was comforting to Sondra on this Saturday morning. The drab weather outside matched the melancholy she felt inside; she even had on gray sweatpants and tank top.

Sondra sat at her kitchen table, one hand wrapped around her favorite chipped blue coffee mug, the other balancing a cigarette between two slender fingers. One foot rested on the chair underneath her. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about what Jack had said a few days ago. What could her sister have been unhappy about? From everything she'd seen and heard, Tracy's life had been close to perfect.

The box was sitting in the living room, in plain sight, but Sondra wanted to ignore it for as long as she could. She had decreed today would be the day she went through everything, but now that today was here, she was afraid. Part of her sister's life was in that box. Maybe even some clue as to what she was unhappy about. Sondra kneaded her forehead and looked out her picture windows at Central Park sliding down like a child's messy watercolor. Sondra and Tracy had loved the rain as kids, doing what most do by running around trying to catch the drops on their tongues. It always tickled them to feel the cold little splashes against the warmth of their tongues. They would always try to one-up each other with each claiming she had caught more.

Sondra took long, slow drags and held them for a few extra moments, enjoying the acrid taste rolling around her mouth.

Okay. It was now or never. Sondra stubbed out her cigarette and picked up her coffee mug. She padded into her living room and set the mug down on the faded Oriental rug on the floor before she joined it. She pulled her long black hair up into a messy knot and took a few deep breaths. Sondra placed her hands on top of the box and held them there for a few moments.

With timid yet deliberate motions, she opened the flaps, as though something might jump out at her. She went through the contents, taking inventory. Photo albums, Tracy's last two date books, greeting cards. Sondra picked up a small purple photo album and opened it. The first picture was of all of them at Christmas one year, a few years before Tracy got married. Tracy wore an elf hat, silky red pajamas, and a dazzling smile. Sondra had her usual sullen expression, her messy topknot hidden beneath the red Santa cap Tracy had slapped on her head at the last minute. Their parents beaming as usual.

Sondra continued to thumb through the album. More family photos, friends, some solo shots of Tracy at various parties or functions, a few of the two sisters together, including the night Sondra won her Oscar. Sondra didn't spend nearly the amount of time on her appearance Tracy did; if her clothes were clean, that was good enough for her. Tracy on the other hand, was all about the looks: perfect nails, perfect hair and a designer wardrobe. Tracy spent months getting Sondra ready for the Oscars, calling stylists, looking for gowns, and scheduling all kinds of beauty treatments. Sondra had grumbled, but secretly, she kind of enjoyed it. No one was more surprised than Sondra at how incredible she looked that night. Tracy had laughed and said she cleaned up real good. In the end, she was glad for all the primping and preening; she would have hated to have accepted the Oscar in the kind of unholy mess she was likely to have worn without Tracy's intervention.

There were three years between the sisters and they'd been exceptionally close their whole lives, managing to sidestep most of the bickering and sniping that plagued most siblings, a major feat, considering how different they were. Of the two sisters, Tracy was the social butterfly, while Sondra had many acquaintances, but only a few close friends; Sondra was goth before anyone knew what the hell goth was. Her father used to tease her by calling her his little ray of sunshine because she'd been in a perpetual bad mood since the age of four. Sunshine became Sonny and the name stuck. Tracy was the bubbly cheerleader and top-notch swimmer, pretty and popular with a non-stop stream of giggly girlfriends, hunky boyfriends, parties and fun. Sondra usually had her nose stuck in a book and a scowl on her face.