Around the Corner (Discontinued)

Chapter 28

Kansas. Twin sisters. Seventeen.

June and Hope are wrapped up in their own conversation. They talk as if they've know each other for a long time, the way my mother would with old friends. I walk alongside them, collecting only the important pieces. Their sentences piece together seamlessly, making it appear easy to hold a conversation. Hope speaks in dulcet notes; even as she tells us about her parents divorce, her words ring. It doesn't make me cringe the way it did at first, but it continues to unsettle me because I couldn't decipher it, or her.

"What's the reason for the divorce?" June asks after recounting her parents' story.
"It was falling apart, but my dad's affair crossed the line."
"How are you dealing?"
"Alright. I try to act like it's not a big deal," Hope replies, "of course it is one, but it's easier to handle if it seems smaller."
"It looks like it's working," I blurt. Hope turns to look at me, but June focuses her attention on the path, refusing to do such.
"Somewhat," Hope chirps. I hang my head, hiding my redding cheeks.
"And what about your sisters? How are they taking it?" June reaches for a low-hanging branch, snapping it. Hope doesn't have just one sister, but instead two, a pair of twins. I couldn't help but pity her. One Fernanda is enough for me, but two stunning, violent girls?

"They turned twenty last month, so they both try to act like it's nothing, like they're all grown up, but I can tell it hurts them." Her gaze floats to her flats, which are the same shade of lavender as her tulle skirt. "You should've seen them when our parents told us they were going to ship is off to Colorado for the summer. Zola left a trail of tears wherever she went, and Zena wouldn't speak to either of our parents for days. They didn't have to go, but if I went, they needed to. So they weren't too happy with me either."
"That's awful," I manage to say.

I never learned how to comfort someone whose parents were going through a divorce. Probably because my parents never strayed close to splitting. A poisoned voice trapped inside my head reminds me that won't last long if the fighting doesn't die down.

It's my turn to stare at the ground.

"How are they doing now that you've been here for a while?" June questions, steering away from the awkward silence I created.
Hope brushes back her wavy bangs and shrugs, "I don't see them much." The path begins to narrow out, and I'm forced to move behind them. I dismiss myself from the conversation.

We walk for a few minutes longer before Hope tells us to stop in front of the aged remains of a sign pointing deeper into the trees. On the same tree the sign is pinned to, there are initials carved in. C.W., V. R., and a repeating Z.E.. My hand runs over the marks, feeling the sharp cuts at the curves and ends.
"They wanted me to add H.E. on there," Hope remarks, watching my fingers slide over the bark, "for Hope Elias. I couldn't do that. It's like leaving a ghost of me here on that tree." I nod, despite not entirely understanding.

The trees covering the land hide a secret. A humungous house, which greets us with an ornate black gate that creaks when it's moved, is a beautiful secret to keep. Again, the breathe is stolen from my lungs as I survey the home. It belongs in a fairytale with window boxes full of flowers, and the teensiest piece of balcony full of potted plants and vines that wrap around the supports. A small tower on the second floor only further reminds me of the houses I'd find in children's books.

"This isn't anything like the ranch houses," June exclaims, "it's is a palace, a cottage, and a castle in one. It's unreal." Hope laughs, a wonderful symphony of joy and sincerity. Then, it hits me: her voice is music, and when she speaks, she sings.

She opens the oak door for us, guiding us to a refreshingly cold foyer. I notice the strong smell of pine and photographs of a couple on a wall as Hope dashes up the stairs. I follow her lead into a door on her left.