Tracy Kiely: Murder Most Persuasive

Dickey sputtered in shock at my rather vulgar suggestion. I, however, felt better than I had in weeks.

“You selfish, horrible girl! How dare you speak to me like that! How dare you quit on me like this! Have you no regard for me or this paper?”

I was so tempted to snap back with, “I am only resolved to act in that manner which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me,” but I didn’t. Dickey wouldn’t get the reference. Instead, I turned without a word and walked out. I quickly stuffed my few belongings from my desk into an empty cardboard box, told Sam I’d call him later, and waved a cheerful good-bye to my former coworkers. Truth be told, I was on top of the world. It was like that scene in Bridget Jones’s Diary when she tells Daniel off and quits. With a cheeky grin, I picked up my box and headed for the elevators for the last time.

It wasn’t until I got back to Kit’s house that I realized when I calculated my savings account in my head, I carried a one that didn’t exist.

Moron.

Kit was surprised to see me wander into the kitchen in the middle of the afternoon. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Are you sick?” Pauly looked up from the table where he was eating a peanut butter and jelly and waved a sticky hello.

I slid into the seat opposite him and said, “No, I’m perfectly fine, actually. I guess you could say I’m no longer one of the working-class drones. I am now a woman of leisure. A lady who lunches—”

“You got fired!” Kit gasped. It would have been better if she hadn’t sounded as if she’d foreseen this day coming for some time.

“No, I quit,” I said with as much dignity as I could muster.

That got her attention. “Quit! In this economy? Are you crazy?”

“Probably. But you’ve no idea what I just went through.” I quickly told her about Dickey and his stupid SHIT and all the rest of it. When I finished, she said, “What an…” Glancing at Pauly, she rethought her words. “Very bad man,” she amended.

“That’s kind of what I thought,” I said.

“Well, don’t you worry about a thing. You can stay here—rent free—until you find another job. And you will find another job, one you’ll like better. I still can’t believe that idiot took you to task for … oh, well, it’s not worth discussing. My point is that you can and you will do better.” She paused. “I know! We’ll treat this like a celebration. I’ll go to the store and get us something nice for dinner and then I’ll rent some silly movie for us all to watch.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Kit, but you don’t have to do all that…”

“Don’t be silly. It’s my pleasure. That’s what family is for. Now, you just go relax. Hit the hot tub or something. Aunt Winnie is out shopping. I’ll take Pauly with me so you can have the house to yourself. How about I invite Peter?”

I got up from my chair and gave her a hug. “Thank you, Kit. This is really nice of you.”

Kit shrugged off my thanks and headed out to the store with Pauly. As I went to my room, I wished she could always be so supportive of people, but Kit is one of those people who shine only when your world is messed up. She revels in playing the role of motherly helper. Mainly because it makes her feel better in comparison. It’s when you’re on top of the world that she gets all snarky.

I called Peter and told him what I’d done. After laughing at the various expressions and suggestions I used in my resignation to Dickey, he, too, offered to house me while I looked for a new job. While I knew that I could never live with Kit for more than two weeks, Peter was another story.

“Are you serious?” I asked. “You really want me to move in while I look for a new job?”

“No, I just want you to move in. Permanently.”

My heart gave a flop. Then a flip.

“Really?”

“Really, really.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Take all the time you want,” Peter said. “Just don’t think I’m doing this because you’re out of a job and might be forced to live in the Jungle Room. Although those are compelling reasons. I’m doing this because I love you and want to be with you. Even if you do snore.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You do. Like a jackhammer. But that’s my point. I don’t mind.”

My next call obviously was to Aunt Winnie, not to talk about my new status as unemployed but about Peter’s offer. “Peter asked me to move in with him,” I said. “What should I do?”

“Why the hell are you asking me?” she replied, laughing. “That’s for you to decide.”

“I know, but I’m confused.”

“Do you love him?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s a start. Only you know what’s right for you, honey.”

I sighed. “You’re right. I need to figure this one out on my own.”

“Damn skippy you do.”

That night Kit outdid herself, making roast beef, scalloped potatoes, and carrots. For dessert she served apple pie with vanilla ice cream. It was times like these when the difference in our lifestyles became all the more apparent. Kit made domesticity look both glamorous and feasible. I thought about Peter’s offer again and wondered if I was ready to settle down and create a home with him. Later, as I helped Kit clean up the kitchen, I told her about Peter wanting me to move in with him.

“What?” she cried, pausing with a dish in hand.

“He wants me to move in,” I repeated.

“You aren’t seriously considering it, are you?”

“Well, actually…”

“You know Mom will freak,” she persisted.

“I doubt that. After all, she’s living with George.”

“But that’s different! She’s older. She’s already been married and had kids.”

I paused. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You know what they say, don’t you? Why buy the cow if you’re getting the milk for free?”

I stared at her. “You didn’t just really say that, did you? You did! I can’t believe you! Do you really see me as the cow in this scenario?”

Kit sighed. “No. You know what I mean. Well, you’ll do what you want, of course. You always do anyway. But let me just say, you won’t get this time back. I don’t think you realize what you have. You’re free to come and go as you please. You can do what you want. You have so much freedom! There are times when I’d give anything to get that freedom back again.”

I stared at her in near shock. “Wait. You think my life is great? I thought you thought I was some colossal screwup.”

Kit laughed. “Well, you are a screwup at times, but I don’t think you’re a colossal screwup. Don’t get me wrong, I love my life. I love Paul and little Pauly. But sometimes I just wish I could run off and check into a hotel for the weekend.” Kit paused and rubbed her belly. “I guess what I’m saying is, I know you love Peter and he’s a great guy. But think about what you have before you go changing it.”

I was stunned. Here was my perfect sister, the one who constantly tried to run my life, telling me that she envied what I had. Not every day or every minute, of course, but at times. It certainly put a new spin on how I viewed her and our relationship. “Thanks, Kit,” I said finally. “For everything. I really appreciate it.”

She smiled at me before turning back to finish loading the dishwasher. “No problem. Besides, you can’t move in with Peter until you learn how to cook something besides spaghetti.”

After the kitchen was cleaned, we all gathered in the living room where we settled in front of Paul’s fifty-two-inch plasma flat-screen TV to watch Meet the Parents.