On the Altar

Chapter 2

POV-Mystique, age 20

My mum has always been a workaholic, because when my sperm donor left his pregnant girlfriend alone in Paris, she returned to NYU to continue her studies. There, she studied hard and got into law school. Then, she had me there in a little hospital in a little town near Brooklyn, where she'd gone to try out the local cafe with her friends. My grandparents and my mum got their American citizenship when I was 10, and we celebrated that day with Christy's whole family.

Mum works hard to support my Gramma and Grandpa, even though they have more than enough for themselves. She bought them that beach house on their 40th anniversary, and now she's relaxing there because one day, her doctor came barging into the law firm, threatening to change lawyers if she didn't use the vacation days she'd saved up.

That's how bad it had gotten.

She always taught me that women never need a man in their lives, but my stepdad Ray and my stepsister Kate, mum says they are the best things to ever happen to her since my birth. It's because they are. I once overheard Mum tell her cousin and best friend, my Aunt Alice, that "Even though I don't need Ray and Kate in my life, I want them in my life. Because they are worth keeping, even with their shortcomings."

I feel the same way about Christy.

She's the annoying little sister I never had whereas Kate was the sweet, supportive kind. The one who'd cover for you when you return late from a party, and not rat you out.

"I think her doctor is going to pay her a visit in California and threaten to sue the owner of the pet store if he didn't fire her." I say to Christy about my mum's workaholicism.

"She'll have fun working on that case." Christy retorts and we burst out laughing. The cab driver looks at us as if we were bonkers. Aren't all of us bonkers, in our own special way? 

"The doctor who is going to teach me is a Harvard Med alumnus herself, and she also works at Brooks-Anderson Memorial!" AKA the hospital where Jen works.

Jennifer Madison Callaghan-Fletcher is a NICU nurse, and also our best friend and childhood babysitter. She is 25, met her husband Marty when she passed out on a sidewalk after drinking fiercely on her 21st birthday party. He is a cop. He didn't arrest her or something, just kept her in detention till I came to pick her up. I was 16 back then, only one from my group who had a license, and Jen's friends couldn't exactly pick her up, as they were in the same condition as her.

Marty has been a huge blessing for us, because a couple years after this incident, he also found Christy splayed on a New York City sidewalk. Who knows what would have happened to Jen and Christy if Marty hadn't showed up patrolling at the right time?

"Ask her to grab lunch with us someday!" Christy says excitedly.

The driver is now listening intently to our conversation. Unfortunately for him...

"We're home." I say to Christy and leave a good tip for the poor driver. Not everyone can put up with our level of crazy.

When we get inside, I show Christy to her room and she immediately begins to unpack. "You helping me or what?" she asks me stoically.

"Well, I have to supervise you, or you'd put your soap in the closet and panties in the medicine cabinet." I tell her with a serious tone, and she just rolls her eyes and unzips the biggest suitcase.

When all her clothes, toiletries, boots and scarves are unpacked, I finally notice the 'something missing' that Christy packed.

"Where are your b****y tampons? Ew, gross, no pun intended. But seriously, you can't keep borrowing them from me again and again, now, can you?" I scold her like her mother would.

"Well, my 'friend' comes over to stay as if she is a welcome guest, you know that! So, what's the point in packing tampons just for the possibility that my period would arrive in the two weeks I am in New York. Heh heh." She sounded nervous, and Christy's personality allows her to be just as nervous as the Kraken.

She's been acting weird, now that I think about it. She's wearing loose sweaters, less fitted pants, and she didn't once complain about the 'gloop' they call airplane food. Did she not eat it? She always eats it because planes make her nervous and munching a little, not binge eating, seems to calm her sober self down. Is she hungry? She always acts weird when she's hungry.

When I ask her the question, she says, "Well, now that you mention it, I didn't eat it. Wasn't in the mood. Can you make me a peanut butter, jelly sandwich?"

Now, I'm becoming really suspicious.