Jo Said She Didn't Take the Book

“Jo said she didn’t take the book.”

“So where is it?”

They were both just over five and a half feet tall with medium reddish-brown skin, high cheekbones, and bright brown eyes. The identical sisters, distinguished only by the size of their puff hairdo, stood in the middle of the apartment. George, with the smaller puff, picked up a framed photo from the coffee table. It showed the identical triplets, Josephine, Georgiana, and Alice, better known as Jo, George, and Al, in matching bikinis on a beach in Oahu. The smiles were forced, as it was the first vacation they’d taken without their mother.

“I wish mom could’ve been there,” she said.

“George, get your head out of the clouds and help me find the book.” Al was frustrated, and it showed.

The book in question was a collection of short stories about three magical princesses, Jo, George, and Al, and their feats of derring-do and magical mischief. Every story was based on a real-life situation the triplets found themselves in, spun into a tall tale. As the girls grew older, so did the princesses in the stories.

“Sorry, Al. I guess it’s time to start pulling everything off the shelves.”

“We might as well pack while we look.”

George nodded her assent and set an empty box beside her. She began taking books off the shelf and stacking them in neat piles in the box. “Mom still has a couple of your textbooks from med school.”

“I saw that. And is this one of yours from MIT?” Al held up a book titled “Brownian Motion and Stochastic Calculus.”

“Heh, yeah, from my undergrad studies.” George’s vision blurred as tears pooled in her eyes. “Why did she keep all this stuff?”

“I don’t know.” Al was crying now as well. 

They continued in silence, boxing shelf after shelf of books, pictures, figurines, and assorted bric-a-brac. Hours passed this way, and box after box was filled and stacked in the living room.

“When does Jo get back?” Al asked.

“I texted with her this morning and got chewed out. She was in court and forgot to mute her phone.” George laughed. “Anyway, she should be back tomorrow for the weekend. Are you going home?”

“I think I’m gonna sleep in mom’s bed tonight.”

“Me too.”

They snuggled together in the king bed that night, as they’d done hundreds of times before, although always with Jo and their mother as well. George inhaled deeply, her mother’s scent still on the pillows. “I miss her so much.”

“I thought of something,” Al said.

“What’s that?”

“Jo said she didn’t take the book. Do you think mom might have given it to her before…?”

“She’s the oldest, so maybe. And she’s not above being technically correct.”

They woke in the early morning to the sound of the garbage truck emptying the dumpsters in the alley. It didn’t take any words for them both to understand that the other was just as tired and annoyed by the rude awakening.

“Al, make us some coffee?”

“Depends.”

George used her sweetest sing-song voice, “I’ll go pick up some pastries from the Donut Haven.”

“Deal.”

George returned with a small bag containing three raspberry danishes and sat down at the table with Al.

“Why did you bring three?”

“Habit. I almost grabbed a bear claw for mom, too.” She wiped the tears that threatened to fall and took a deep breath.

“That’s okay, Jo will eat it even if it’s stale.”

They spent the morning packing more boxes, each item a small memory. Just holding up the occasional knick-knack to show the other was enough to elicit a sad smile.

Lunch time rolled around and passed without either woman taking note. Where they had started out at a steady pace, they were now both moving as if through molasses. The emotional toll was heavier than any physical exertion. George handed Al a cold cola and opened one herself. They sat drinking in silence, eyeing the sizable stack of boxes they’d packed.

“Sisters! I come bearing gifts!” Jo’s sudden entrance startled them both. She set her overnight bag down, and a bottle of wine peeked out of the top. Her briefcase remained firmly in her other hand.

George jumped to her feet and ran to embrace her, while Al lagged slightly behind. “I didn’t expect you until later.”

“Court was adjourned early for the weekend,” she said. “Come here, Al, give me some love.”

The three held each other for several long minutes, George and Al in shorts and tee-shirts, Jo in a suit with her hair pulled back into a severe bun. Al grabbed at the elastic holding the bun in place and yanked, freeing her sister’s hair.

“Get changed and let me fix your hair. You gotta quit trying to wear white lady hair.”

“In a minute,” Jo said, raising her briefcase. “I have something to show you.”

“Is it the book?” George asked.

“I told you I didn’t take it. You’ll like this, though.”

The sisters made their way into the kitchen, where Jo opened the briefcase and laid a small sheaf of papers on the counter. While the others looked at them, she grabbed the danish that sat there and ate it. “Thanks.”

“What is it?” the other two asked at the same time.

“Raspberry danish, our favorite,” she said.

“No, you ass, this,” Al said, waving the sheaf of papers.

“Mom’s publishing contract. Jackie gave it to me the day….” She faltered and shook her head. “Anyway, they’re sending the original back in a few days, and plan on publishing next May, in time for Mother’s Day.”

“Jackie’s a nurse, why was she handling mom’s legal affairs?” George stabbed a finger in Jo’s chest. “You’re the lawyer in the family, you should’ve been handling it.”

“Quit poking my boob.”

“Besides,” Al said, “mom always said her stories only meant something to us, the three princesses.”

“Jackie apologized for it after the fact, but she sent it off to a publisher without mom’s okay.” Jo sighed. “When she told me that, my first instinct was to sue. Until I read the letter mom left me. She wanted it to be a surprise, once the contract was finalized.”

The three of them chatted trivialities while Jo changed and continued while Al fixed her hair into a matching puff. When the three of them finally matched, Jo asked, “What can I do to help?”

“Have you eaten lunch?” George asked.

“Nope. How about an early dinner at O’Toole’s? Then I’ll help pack up whatever’s left.”

Al sighed. “The only rooms left are the kitchen and the bedroom. I don’t know if I’m ready to pack up the bedroom.”

“Me either,” George said. “I want to spend as many nights in her bed as I can, since it’ll all be gone next week.”

Jo pulled her sisters into a close embrace. “Then let’s walk to O’Toole’s for dinner and drinks. Then back here to pack the kitchen and cuddle in mom’s bed for the last couple nights.”

As they walked out the door, George said, “Called it. She was technically correct.”

“Yeah,” Al replied. “Jo said she didn’t take the book.”