“What did I say?” Jo-Jo asked. “I thought that was the point. To poke fun at ourselves. The Wizard of Oz was Marisa’s favorite movie.”

Marisa’s grin widened, but it was too bright. “Clare loved it most. I was a Sound of Music girl.” That was right. A family escaping tyranny had struck a chord with her.

“Each time I read it to my students, I think of MC,” Jo-Jo said.

“Give it a rest, Jo-Jo,” Jack said softly. “Eat your cake.”

It wasn’t the first time the twins had been mixed up. Still, after thirteen years, it must sting a little.

“Marisa, you’re one of a kind,” I said.

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“Happy birthday, again.” Jack kissed her on the cheek and, as he turned to leave, glanced toward David and me.

Few would have considered Jack’s eyes cold in that instant, but I knew him well enough to see the ice churning behind those baby blues.

5 MARISA

5

MARISA

Friday, March 11, 2022

9:45 p.m.

I was grateful when the party finally ended. I’d been ready to walk home, the remnants of my cake and the fondant ruby slippers secured in their original box, and the collection of presents neatly packed in a large paper bag that proved Brit was always two steps ahead. Kurt had insisted on walking me home.

“It was a nice party,” he said. “Brit tried hard.”

“Yes. She always does.”

The box of cake in hand, I approached my building’s locked entrance. I punched in the security code.

“She’s still as uptight as I remember,” he said.

“It’s hard for her,” I said, needing to defend. “She had Mom and Dad all to herself for three years, and then Clare and I showed up and basically sucked the oxygen out of the family.”

“That’s not true.”

The lock clicked, and I opened it. He followed me inside and then down a hallway toward a lone elevator. Before the accident, I took the stairs, but it had been a long day, and my reserves were waning. I didn’t want to stop and catch my breath in front of Kurt. Inside the car, I pressed five. The doors closed, and we slowly rose. When the doors opened, I said, “The pony express has arrived.”

“I’ve aged five years,” he quipped.

On my floor, we stepped off, and I walked to the lone door on the left. There were only two apartments on this floor. The other had been empty several months, but judging by a stack of broken-down, rain-soaked boxes by the door, it looked like I might have a new neighbor. Wrangling keys, I opened my door and flipped on the light, and Kurt followed me inside.