NO LONGER THERE

STRAND SEVEN

HERSHEY KISS

"The flying monkeys have to go higher than that."

When was I able to get my phone back from Hershey, that's the first thing I heard. Roxy's major was project theater and dance. You can see why her zaniness made sense.

"More smoke. Light this whole thing up."

She called right before rehearsal of their musical showcase, the Wizard of Odds. Now that it had started, I promised to call her back. The conversation was just too weird. Hershey Kiss and I returned to our regularly scheduled sister programming and had a fight with Lillian's precious fancy pants throw pillows in the formal living room, no less formal than of the rest of the house, all except the rainbow room and Clarence's basement.

We ate popcorn in that living room and placed our forbidden plastic cups of Mountain Dew, dripping with condensation onto the snobbish coffee table. No coasters. We were in full gangsta mode.

We ate ice cream sundaes for dinner in my Restoration Hardware showcase display bedroom. And raced through the house, all over Lillian's dense pile, Tuscan tan, frieze carpet with chlorine soaked, grassy feet. Nana smoked her cigarette, the green kind and cheered us on. That lil old white lady loves her mocha and chocolate grand babies, and we love her back. Thank goodness for Nana.

Lillian called. Told Nana she was on the way home to get some rest. She had back to back surgeries the next day. She didn't call because she thought we cared. It was a warning. Have her house in order before that black beamer pulled into the driveway, or there was going to be trouble.

Clarence wasn't there. Nana was high, and we didn't want trouble. So, we ended another episode of Happy Days in the Reed House, before Lillian came home and ended it for us. Hershey Kiss, Nana and I were on the tan leather sectional in the family room watching the Cosby show when Lillian walked through the front door. We didn't turn around.

Remember when Rudy belted out, "Baaabayy" while they sung to the grandparents on their anniversary? That's the part we were on. Classic.

We wouldn't have turned around if God himself had come through that front door on a dolphin's back, wearing Back to the Future shoes, with a boombox on his shoulder blasting music like Radio Raheem. Nope, God was not more than important than adorable, toothless, Rudy belting out "Baaabayy." And at that moment, neither was Lillian. She was pissed.

She slammmed her keys onto the quartz counter top, sighed as she ran faucet water, for Lord knows what because she didn't cook and faucet water for her was equivalent to putting a straw in the sewer. The more noise she made, the louder we laughed, the more pissed Lillian became. She hated not being the center of attention.

Nana nudged me, I nudged Hershey Kiss and we sat on the tan leather couch in the family room watching the Cosby show, banded together like Titanic survivors, safe from an angry yet exhausted shark of a Lillian. Hershey Kiss slept with me that night. I was shocked because she still had and absolutely loved her rainbow room, but my sweet, chocolate skin, hazel eyes sister wanted to cuddle with me. I'm glad she did. I missed her, and I wanted to make sure she was okay.

"Abrey," she whispered after we turned off the lights.

She still can't pronounce her v's.

"Yes, Hershey."

"When are you leabing?"

I closed my eyes hating the answer I was about to give.

"Tomorrow."

She sniffled.

"So, you and Daddy won't be here?"

I sniffled.