talk showsâthey were glued to Jerry Springer; it was like watching long-lost family members), whether or not they would take a bath (usually not), and what book they would read before bed ( Harry Potter ). Sometimes theyâd have to spend hours calming down a crying Joy, but most of the time they created elaborate, imaginary lives. They were orphans living in Russia, they were triplets going camping, they were runaways hitching a ride on the nearest train.
Many of Hopeâs childhood memories were a blur. But she remembered how she felt about her sisters. Loved. Inseparable. The Three Musketeers, their mother used to say with a trace of jealousy. They grew up together; they battled sunburns, and knee scrapes, and Carla, and their missing father. They made up all sorts of reasons he hadnât come for themâthe favorite being that he was a spy. He wanted nothing more than to see his girls, but it would put all of America in danger. But he watched them, and loved them, and protected them from afar. And they continued to protect one another. For a while anyway. For as long as it lasted. Her sisters; herself. There was a sliver of time when Hope never could have imagined it any other way.
And then one day Faith was gone. Fled to California at seventeen. The usual reasons. Pregnant by a summer boy. To Hope the west coast might as well have been Siberia, and losing Faith felt like losing a limb. She kept reaching for her, thinking she was by her side, only to discover over and over, more and more shocked each time, that Faith was really gone. All Hope was left with was long-distance phone calls that always ended too soon. It was as if a giant undertow had stolen her sister and whisked her out to sea.
Hope stuck around for Joy, though. Tried to fill Faithâs shoes. But Joy was always the wild one. The older she grew, the more she resisted Hopeâs efforts to mother her. She was probably more like Carla than any of them. The second she turned eighteen, Joy ran off to Seattle without so much as a thank you. And even though they were basically estranged, Hope couldnât stomach the thought of being on the opposite coast from her sisters, so she soon followed to Portland. They were circling one anotherâs orbits without getting too close. They saw one another every couple of years. Not nearly enough for Hope. Maybe this Christmas was the excuse they needed to really commit to one another again.
Hope brought her attention back to Joyâs Facebook page. This is how she knew her sisters now. From social media.
Every other picture was coffee, or foam, or Joy and a handsome young black man gazing at coffee or foam. This must be her new boyfriend. Hope hadnât heard about him first-hand, of course, but Faith had mentioned him. His name was Harrison, theyâd met on some dock looking at sailboats. Hope didnât even know Joy liked sailboats, let alone went looking at them on random docks. Faith said the only reason Joy talked to her more was that she was always angling for money. Faith was extremely well-off; turned out getting pregnant by Stephen hadnât been the worst thing that could have happened. He was wealthy, and his parents even made sure Faith finished high school and went to college. They now had a beautiful home in San Francisco, two kids, and a two-car garage. Hope had only been there a handful of timesâmostly because of Faithâs busy schedule.
It was too late to call Faith, but Hope left a message on Joyâs Facebook Feed. Iâm in the Emerald City, sis. Call my cell! A few seconds later Joy logged off of Facebook. Hope stared at her cell and waited. And waited. Why that little scoundrel. When had Joy stopped loving her? Hope had sensed a year or so back that sheâd done something to tick Joy off, but she seriously didnât know what it was. She asked Faith over and over, but Faith insisted she didnât know either. âJoy is Joy,â Faith said.
Many of Hopeâs childhood memories were a blur. But she remembered how she felt about her sisters. Loved. Inseparable. The Three Musketeers, their mother used to say with a trace of jealousy. They grew up together; they battled sunburns, and knee scrapes, and Carla, and their missing father. They made up all sorts of reasons he hadnât come for themâthe favorite being that he was a spy. He wanted nothing more than to see his girls, but it would put all of America in danger. But he watched them, and loved them, and protected them from afar. And they continued to protect one another. For a while anyway. For as long as it lasted. Her sisters; herself. There was a sliver of time when Hope never could have imagined it any other way.
And then one day Faith was gone. Fled to California at seventeen. The usual reasons. Pregnant by a summer boy. To Hope the west coast might as well have been Siberia, and losing Faith felt like losing a limb. She kept reaching for her, thinking she was by her side, only to discover over and over, more and more shocked each time, that Faith was really gone. All Hope was left with was long-distance phone calls that always ended too soon. It was as if a giant undertow had stolen her sister and whisked her out to sea.
Hope stuck around for Joy, though. Tried to fill Faithâs shoes. But Joy was always the wild one. The older she grew, the more she resisted Hopeâs efforts to mother her. She was probably more like Carla than any of them. The second she turned eighteen, Joy ran off to Seattle without so much as a thank you. And even though they were basically estranged, Hope couldnât stomach the thought of being on the opposite coast from her sisters, so she soon followed to Portland. They were circling one anotherâs orbits without getting too close. They saw one another every couple of years. Not nearly enough for Hope. Maybe this Christmas was the excuse they needed to really commit to one another again.
Hope brought her attention back to Joyâs Facebook page. This is how she knew her sisters now. From social media.
Every other picture was coffee, or foam, or Joy and a handsome young black man gazing at coffee or foam. This must be her new boyfriend. Hope hadnât heard about him first-hand, of course, but Faith had mentioned him. His name was Harrison, theyâd met on some dock looking at sailboats. Hope didnât even know Joy liked sailboats, let alone went looking at them on random docks. Faith said the only reason Joy talked to her more was that she was always angling for money. Faith was extremely well-off; turned out getting pregnant by Stephen hadnât been the worst thing that could have happened. He was wealthy, and his parents even made sure Faith finished high school and went to college. They now had a beautiful home in San Francisco, two kids, and a two-car garage. Hope had only been there a handful of timesâmostly because of Faithâs busy schedule.
It was too late to call Faith, but Hope left a message on Joyâs Facebook Feed. Iâm in the Emerald City, sis. Call my cell! A few seconds later Joy logged off of Facebook. Hope stared at her cell and waited. And waited. Why that little scoundrel. When had Joy stopped loving her? Hope had sensed a year or so back that sheâd done something to tick Joy off, but she seriously didnât know what it was. She asked Faith over and over, but Faith insisted she didnât know either. âJoy is Joy,â Faith said.
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