Stronger Together

The two women sat beside each other in the van. Joy, the older sister was driving. Her younger sister Harmony, sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed tightly across her chest. Her face an angry mask.

“I didn’t ask you to do this, you know.”

“I know.”

Silence.  

To look at both women, you would know immediately that they were related. Both had sharp green eyes, a trait that harkened back to their Irish heritage. This rare and unusual luminous green was one shared by mother and daughters.  

Right now, though Harmony’s eyes were blazing, her gaze fixed out the front window of the van.

“I could have done this myself. I don’t need your help.”

“True.”

Both sisters had black hair, although Joy’s hair was showing a bit more grey than Harmony’s. Joy wore her hair to her shoulders. Her hair was curly — well if truth be told, more frizz, less curl — and she preferred to wear it long enough so that she could it quickly pull it back into a ponytail when it got in her way. In fact that was the way she was wearing it now.

Harmony, on the other hand wore her hair short, in what used to be called a pixie cut. It looked like she had cut it herself using nail scissors. Maybe she had, but she also had the tips dyed an electric magenta, which looked almost like a halo when spiked up the way it was now. Harmony was the vocalist in an underground punk band, Bloody Hell, and her hair helped sell her funky look. She ran her hands through her hair in frustration.

“You don’t need to be a martyr for my sake, you know. I can handle this.”

“I know,” replied Joy.

Harmony threw her hands into the air, and looked at her sister. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Harmony gave up trying to talk to her sister. She recrossed her arms, and continued to stare out the windsheild.  

Twenty minutes passed. Thirty minutes, an hour. Neither sister spoke.

Finally, Harmony broke the silence. “You know he hated both of us, right?”

“I know.”

“Then why the hell are we going back?”

That took Joy by surprise. She had never considered not going back. She and Harmony were his children. They needed to do this.

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to do? Are you effing insane? When did he ever do right by either of us? When did we ever come first in his life? We were always ‘his burden’. He told us that every opportunity he got.”

“I know.”

“Then tell me why you’re doing this? Why you’re forcing me to do this?”

“Why am I doing what? Going back to my childhood home? Taking the time to close down the estate? Making the effort to put closure to some pretty shitty parts of my life?”

“All of it! Why go back? There are lawyers who could do all this. There is no reason for either of us to ever step back into that house. But here you are, calmly heading east, towards everything that was crappy in your life. And you’re dragging me along. Why?”

“I can ask you the same question. Why are you doing it? Why are you in this van with me right now, and not back in Vancouver living your life?’

“So I can spit on his grave.”

That ended the conversation. Harmony looked over at her sister. She looked so normal, but man, she lived in a van. She was a doctor, and travelled to under-served areas around the country, taking short-term contracts. She worked in both Canada and the US. Before this road trip, Joy had been in Digby, Nova Scotia. She’d driven all the way across the country to pick up Harmony on the west coast, only to turn around and drive them both all the way east to Toronto.

“I could have flown, you know,” she said.

“I have seen you on a plane, or rather I have seen you try to get on a plane. No way I was going to let you face that alone.”

“You didn’t have to do this. I’m more than capable of getting my own ass to Toronto. I could have taken the train. Or I could have driven myself. Or I could have stayed home.”

“That’s probably what you would have done — stayed at home.”

“If I wanted to stay home, I would have.  I decided to come with you.”

“Really?” said Joy, turning to face her sister. “Really? I had to come to your home and beg you to come back east. Beg you.” She turned to look at her sister. “I can’t do this by myself, and I need someone to help me, and that person is you. So, suck it up, and quit whining.”

“Screw you! You’re not the boss of me.” Harmony scowled furiously at her sister.

Joy stared back, and then started to laugh. She was laughing so hard she had to pull over to the side of the road.

“It’s not funny,” said Harmony. Joy sobered a bit and looked at her sister.

“It was kinda funny, Harm,” she said. “For a minute there, it sounded like I had eight-year-old Harmony in the van with me.”

She continued to look out the windshield, ignoring Joy. When Harmony had been eight, her world had turned upside down. Both their lives had. She remembered the pain from that time so acutely. Joy was three years older than Harmony, and had been forced into a parental role, which Harmony had soundly resisted. Anything — make that everything — Joy had said, Harmony rejected. No wonder Harmony didn’t have any kids — she’d already raised one brat, and that had been enough.

*****

The closer they got to Toronto, the more tense their time in the van became. Harmony became more combative, while Joy seemed to become more introverted.

Both, though, were thinking about what lay ahead.

“I need a smoke. Stop anywhere.”

Joy looked over at Harmony. “We’ve been in this van for three-and-a-haf days, and you haven’t asked me to stop once so that you can have a cigarette.”

“Who said anything about cigarette?”

Joy pulled over, and Harmony opened the door and hopped out, slamming the door behind her. She watched Harmony walk away from the van, along the shoulder of the road. She just stood at the side of the road, with her arms crossed, her back to the van. Joy turned off the ignition and waited. When Harmony finally returned half an hour later, Joy had made a pot of tea, and set up the pot and cups in the van’s tiny kitchen.  

“Here,” she said, handing Harmony a cup of tea. “Let’s take a break from driving, and have a cup of tea.” There was a small dining area, with a table between the bench seats.

Harmony silently took the cup from Joy, and walked back to the dinette.

“I know this is hard for you, Harm. It’s really hard for me, too.”

Harmony said nothing, staring at her cup of tea. After a minute or so, she spoke up.

“Then why aren’t you mad?”

“Who said I’m not mad? I’m mad.”

“Then why are you doing this? Why are you making me do this?”

“Because, we have to do this. We have to put an end to this life-sucking chapter of our lives. We deserve better.”

Harmony couldn’t argue with her sister’s logic, so she said nothing. She just wanted to get it over with.

*****

The drive east had literally been five days of hell on wheels. The sisters continued their sniping, arguing, finding fault with everything the other did and said. They continued their circular argument about why they had made this trip in the first place, with Harmony coming solidly down on the side of “I don’t give a shit about any of this,” and Joy maintaining that “it is the best thing to do, for both of us”.

Finally, they pulled up to their childhood home.

“Looks the same,” said Harmony.

“It does, doesn’t it. I kind of expected it to look more menacing. But, it’s just a house.”

“Is it ‘just a house,’ Joy? Is it really? How can you say it’s just a house? This, this horrifying edifice is far more than just a house. It is evil — like the man who lived here.”

Exhausted from the constant bickering between the two of of them, Joy ignored her sister. But, she agreed — if a building could manifest the emotions and mindset of its owner, this would certainly be an evil home.

The front door of the house opened, and the estate lawyer, Dexter Arlington stepped out onto the porch.

“Joy! Harmony! I’m so glad to finally meet you, face-to-face. Come in, come in,” he said, holding the door open for them to enter.

Harmony turned to Joy, “It’s like he owns the place.”

“Maybe he does,” replied Joy. “Who knows what’s in the will?”

They walked up the stairs to the front door. Joy’s heart started pounding, and she felt lightheaded. This reaction had caught her completely by surprise.

“It’s just a house. It’s just a house.” She repeated the mantra to herself.

“Hey, you okay?” asked Harmony. “You look like hell.”

Joy looked from the open front door to Harmony.

“I’m not sure I can go in.” She took a big breath. “I haven’t been inside for ten years. I don’t know if I can do it.”

Harmony put her arm around her older sister’s shoulder, and guided her into the house. “You can do it. I can do it. We can do it, together.”

They entered the house and looked around. It looked the same. A bit shabby, some different furniture, but pretty much the same. Joy didn’t know what she expected — it had been along time.

“I haven’t been in here since we left the day I turned sixteen,” said Harmony, looking around.

“I didn’t really think that we would ever be back.”

Mr. Arlington stuck his head out of what had been their father’s study. “How about we do this in here?”

Both women walked back towards the study.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in here,” said Joy, looking around. “It was forbidden.” She turned around and looked at the study door behind her. “He locked the door when he wasn’t home, and we weren’t allowed to bother him if he was in here.”

“I remember,” said Harmony. “This room always scared me.”

Mr. Arlington walked behind the massive oak desk, and sat in their father’s chair. The women each sat in one of the visitor’s chairs in front of the desk.

“First off,” said Mr. Arlington, “I didn’t actually know your father. He was my father’s client. But Dad has had some health issues in the last month, so I inherited your family as a client.”

He looked down, and handed each of the women a sealed envelope, each with their names typed on the front of the envelope.  

“Your father wrote each of you a letter that is not to be opened until the will has been read.” He paused. “Shall we start?”

He opened the file folder on desk, and started to read, “'I Domenic Exeter, being of sound mind, do hereby bequeath the following: I leave my entire estate to both of my daughters, Joy Violet and Harmony Rose, to be divided evenly between them both. This includes all assets, real estate holdings, stocks and bonds, miscellany, and anything held in trust under my name. The one codicil to this bequeathment, is that both Harmony and Joy must spend one day, twenty-four hours, effective immediately, here, in their childhood home. It must just be just the two of them, and it must commence immediately after the reading of the will. They are not allowed to leave this house for the next twenty-four hours. If either or both of my daughters refuse, then both will forfeit their inheritance, and instead, all of my estate will be donated to the NRA Group.'”

That was it. Arlington looked up.

“What an asshole!” said Harmony. “He knows we both despise guns. It’s just like him.” She shook her head.

“Do we have to stay in the house? Can we stay on the property?” asked Joy.

“I’m afraid your father was very clear about this. He said that you have to stay in the house.”

“In our old rooms?”

Arlington looked down at his notes. “No, just in the house. Any room you choose is fine.”

“Okay,” Joy said. “We just have to spend the next twenty-four hours in the house?” She looked at Arlington. "It's not booby-trapped or haunted, is it?"

"No, it's not haunted or bobby-trapped. But you do have to stay inside, as stipulated by your father’s will. As well, to ensure that this happens, your father has hired a team of watchers to ensure that you fulfill the terms of the will, and not leave the house.”

"Of course he did," said Joy.

Harmony spoke up, “Okay, so my father wants both Joy and I to stay in this house — the same house where he murdered our mother?”

Arlington looked confused. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Our father killed our mother in this house. We both saw him strangle her. But we were kids, and no one believed us. He said that she left, ran away because she was having an affair. Because there was no body, he got away with it. He had friends in high places, he was an influential man. So we were forced to continue to live here — with the man who killed our mother.”

Harmony spoke up. “Joy waited until I turned sixteen, then we left together. We went to live with our Grandmother Byrne, our mother’s mother, in Vancouver.”

Joy continued, “When I turned sixteen, I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t leave Harmony alone with him. So I stayed until she was sixteen. On her sixteenth birthday, we left in the middle of the night. Neither of us ever expected to ever come back.”

“I don’t know what we would have done without Grammie Byrne. She was always there for us. She badgered him to let us visit her when we were younger. We spent most holidays with her. After we were legal age to leave, we moved in with her. She was amazing.” Harmony sounded wistful. “She died two years ago. I’m living in her house, right now. I really miss her.”

Arlington looked at both the women. “I didn’t know any of this. Your father was my father’s client. I’m sorry that this has brought you both such pain.”

Harmony perked up. “Not everything is painful. He’s dead, so there’s that.” She smiled.

Joy returned to the task at hand. “Harm, are you willing to spend the next twenty-four hours here? In this house?”

“I don’t know. I said that I would never come back, but here I am.” She turned to Arlington. “We just spent the last five days together in a small van, and didn’t kill each other. How bad can it get?”

“Seeing as you will be the only ones in the house, you just have to stay until—” He looked at his watch, “Noon, tomorrow.”

“Okay. I’m in,” she said. “Are you okay with that, Joy?”

“Sure. We can do it. I hope.”

*****

Dexter Arlington arrived at the house, at noon, exactly. He went to the front door, knocked, and waited. The door opened, and he was met by Joy and Harmony, together. Both were bleary-eyed, a bit rumpled, but still together in the house.

“So, congratulations. You both stayed in the house for twenty-four hours. You have met the stipulations of the will, and are now eligible for your inheritance.” He held up two bags from McDonald’s. “And I brought some lunch.”

They turned and walked into the house.  

After all the papers had been signed, money transferred to the appropriate accounts, and next steps outlined, Arlington got up to leave.

“Well, Harmony and Joy, we are finished here. You will be receiving financial statements, and a registry of your father’s stocks and bonds. All other assets are listed on the financial statement. Any questions?”

“Yeah,” said Harmony. “Why did you try to trick us with the letters? We know that he didn’t write them.”

“I … I don’t know what you mean?” sputtered Arlington.

“Okay,” said Joy. “So, what’s your firm’s name?”

“I don’t see how that’s important.”

“That’s okay,” said Harmony. “We looked you up. Arlington, Dexter P., Partner, Northcotte, Rogers, and Arlington, or the NRA Group. Your dad isn’t even a lawyer. He’s a retired letter carrier. You were the estate lawyer, all along.”

“I’m not sure where you got this info, but you are sorely mistaken.” Arlington looked nervous. Sweat appeared on his upper lip.

“Jig’s up, man. You tried to swindle us.” Harmony gave him her best squint-eye stare.  

Joy spoke up. “First, we checked online that the will had been registered. Yes, and we were able to look at it. It was pretty much as you said, except there were no letters for either of us. He didn’t care enough to write letters. He didn’t even believe that we could get along together for twenty-four hours, so he didn’t need letters. But you couldn’t take that chance. You wrote the letters to try to make us fight, hoping one of us would leave.”

“Wrong move, Dex,” said Harmony. “We are stronger together than we are apart.”

“And we proved it to you and to him. May you both rot in hell.”

Harmony and Joy, turned and walked out of the house, hand-in-hand. They had survived together.