Page 96 of The Favorite Sister

The crack reminds me of the coconuts Brett and I used to raise above our heads and slam into our driveway when we were kids. It is not thecrack!of something breaking. It is thecrack!of someone breaking something. The intention is deafening. Brett moans, almost in recognition.Ohhhh, this is it for me. Brett’s cause of death was acute subdural hematoma, a blood clot below the inner layer of the dura. The pathologist identified two contusions to the back of her head, caused by two separate blows, only one of which was fatal. But because they came in such quick succession, she could not determine their order. Listening to the tape, I am certain it was the first.

Still, Jen might have been able to spin this as self-defense, or even an accident, up until this point. She could have called for help, and maybe Brett could have been saved. But then, a second crack. What she believed to be thecoup de grâce. There was no calling anyone after that.

For a while, Jen’s distraught breathing is the unstressed beat to Lauren’s snoring. Brett is silent. Brett died fast.

She tried to drag her on her own first. I heard it. But there was no way the show’s elfin flower child was going to be able to dispose of my sister’s sizely body without some assistance.A woman wouldn’t have been able to do that on her own, the officer had said, but two women could.

Lauren.Jen’s voice is a close hiss.Lauren. Wake up.

This continues for a good minute or so.

Stop, Lauren finally groans.

No, Lauren. Wake up.

No. Hey! Stop! What are youdoing?I can imagine Jen dragging Lauren off the couch.

Help me!Jen snarls at her.

Is that Brett?

Get her feet.

Lauren laughs.Brett is DRUNK. Wake up, Brett!

Get her—that’s it. You got it. Keep moving.

Is this Brett?

Keep moving.

A door creaks open. A light clicks on.

Ow, Lauren complains, and there is a sickening plop, then another. Brett’s feet, being dropped to the concrete garage floor.

Get her feet again!

Is this Brett?

A light clicks off.

Just wait here, Jen tells Lauren.I’m grabbing my keys. Don’t move.

Lauren is actually able to wait quietly until Jen returns and opens the trunk of her car. It makes sense now, why both of them were so determined to take my car. It makes sense why Lauren didn’t seem to understand her own trepidation. She must have retained only spotty memories of stuffing my sister’s dead body in the trunk of Jen’s car, if any at all. What would Jen have done with Brett if Stephanie hadn’t done what she did, if not for that gruesome stroke of luck? She must have had a rough idea. She must have been the one to send a text to me from Brett’s phone—Called a car to take me back to the city. Over this shit.The police pinned that on Vince too.

Okay. Lift her up. That’s it. Let go. You can let go now, Lauren.

The hatch beeps once. I hear it latch shut. Jen waited to be sure it closed.

Help me, Jen says again, when they are back in the kitchen.

What is this?

Just help me clean it up.

But what is it?

It’s tomato soup.