6 - Pages of Sin

it,” I finally said. “It’s so normal in here.”
    “I refused to sleep with Louis the Sixteenth,” Byron said from the doorway.
    Mom shrieked and I admit I might have leapt a few feet in the air, but who could blame us?
    “Honestly, Byron!” Mom cried. “You scared the bejeezus out of me.”
    “Where the hell did you come from?” I asked, my voice squeaking from the shock. I caught my breath and added, “Sorry. We were a little preoccupied. We didn’t hear you coming upstairs.”
    “Carpet on the stairs blocks the sound,” he explained.
    “You could’ve called out or something.”
    He shrugged. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting to see you up here.”
    “We were just . . .” Mom feebly waved the clump of incense.
    “That’s fine. I appreciate it.” He leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. “Wanda had plenty of her family’s rococo crap that could’ve been used to decorate this room, but I drew the line and luckily, she agreed with me.”
    “You also drew the line at the office downstairs,” I said, then realized it made us sound like we were snooping. Oh, well, it was too late to try to pretend we weren’t.
    He chuckled. “Now, that was Wanda’s idea. She thought I should have one room that was all mine. She used to stock my refrigerator with snacks and beers so I could watch my football games in peace. But most of the time, she ended up watching the games with me.”
    “That’s nice,” Mom murmured.
    Byron nodded. “Yeah, she always pretended to come in there to check out the view of the backyard, but I think she came to get away from the memories. And the obsessions.”
    “Why did she . . . never mind.” Mom shook her head. “It’s none of my business.”
    “Why did she wall herself off from the rest of the world?” he finished. “Or why did she kill herself?”
    “Really, Byron,” Mom said in a rush. “We had no right to wander through your house. And now we’re bringing up bad memories for you. I think we’d better go now.”
    “Anytime I think of Wanda,” Byron said in a hushed voice, “the memories are never bad.”
    I sniffled back the tears I felt brewing, but he didn’t seem to notice.
    “You know she dressed up every day?” he said. “Even when she was working in the garden. She was so beautiful. You remember, don’t you, Becky?”
    “She was lovely,” Mom said.
    “She greeted me every morning with one of those soft smiles,” he continued, his eyes warming at the memory. “Every afternoon when I came home from work, cocktails were poured, dinner was made. Despite what everyone thought, she was never depressed.” He chuckled. “She didn’t take drugs. Well, not until that last day.”
    “Oh, Byron.” Mom walked right into his arms and they held on to each other for a long moment. Finally she stepped back. “Do you have someplace you can stay for a while? I hate to leave you alone here.”
    “This is my favorite place in the world,” Byron said, his eyes clear again. “Please, Becky, don’t worry about me. I might give Marjorie a call. Maybe she and Elaine will go to dinner with me. It’s about time we all got together and made our peace once and for all.”
    As he walked with us downstairs, Mom kept talking. “Did Marjorie visit Wanda very often?”
    “Oh, sure,” Byron said. “She came by every few weeks, usually dropped off some books or brought some pastries or some kind of gift or goodie for Wanda.”
    “That was nice of her,” I said as we reached the bottom of the stairs. But I couldn’t help wondering why Wanda allowed her sister into her home when she wouldn’t allow my mother to visit.
    “Marjorie’s a nice gal,” he said. “She’s the one who found Wanda. She came over that last afternoon and saw her lying on her favorite chaise in the garden. She couldn’t wake her up. Tried to give her CPR, but it didn’t work. She went screaming out of the yard and down the street.”
    “Poor Marjorie,” Mom said.
    Byron sighed. “When she finally calmed down enough to talk to me, she kept saying, Why? Why? ”
    From the way he was staring at the walls and rambling on, it seemed that Byron was still mystified as to why Wanda had killed herself. “Marjorie said she’d called Wanda that morning to let her know she was coming by. Told her she was bringing her some new shoes. She did that sometimes. Wanda appreciated it.”
    “Shoes?”
    “Yeah. They were nice ones, too. All the Bradford girls have great taste in