The Secret Society of the Pink Crystal Ball Read Online Free PDF Page A

recovers. “There are just so many things I never got to say to her.”
    â€œWhat happened between the two of you?” I ask. The question tumbles out of my mouth before I can stop it.
    Mom puts my tea milk down in front of me and then sits down with a sigh.
    â€œI’m not sure. I just always felt like she refused to grow up. She never got a real job, she never got married, never had kids. She just lived her life without any responsibility. Which is fine, but…she didn’t have any regard for anyone else. And I felt like I always had to clean up her messes.”
    I nod. I’ve heard the stories a million times before. But Mom wants to tell them again, and for once, I don’t want to stop her. All I want to talk about is Aunt Kiki right now. If venting about her helps Mom to feel better too, then I’m all for it.
    â€œWhen she got arrested for peyote possession, I bailed her out. When the Chinese government kicked her out of the country, I was the one who arranged for her transportation home. When she got bitten by a monkey in Costa Rica, I was the one who called the hospital and made sure that she got all of the shots she needed. But it didn’t go both ways—” She pauses and manages a sad smile. “You know all this.”
    â€œIt’s okay.”
    â€œBut it wasn’t,” Mom counters. “Kiki never did anything to help me . Do you remember when grandma broke her hip a few years ago? I had to take care of her for three months, even though I have a full-time job and a family. And Kiki…she was off doing yoga at an ashram in India, and she was completely unreachable. It was infuriating.”
    â€œBut you always fought about things like that,” I remind her. “What happened to make you stop speaking to her?”
    She sighs and puts her hand on top of mine. “Oh, Erin. I didn’t stop speaking to her. She stopped speaking to me. One day I called her and she just never called me back. I left her message after message, and I emailed, and I sent her a letter. I even tried to go over there a few times to see her in person. But she refused to see me. And I have no idea what I did. It’s like one day she just decided that she didn’t want anything to do with us anymore. I never told you because I didn’t want you to be hurt. I know how much you loved her.”
    What? I am horrified. I had always just assumed that it was all Mom’s fault. But for Aunt Kiki to stop calling us…calling me ? To just cut off contact like that for no reason? I can understand why she might not want to talk to Mom—God knows, I have been on the receiving end of my mother’s nagging. But Kiki always told me that she loved me like I was her own daughter, and I believed her.
    This changes everything, though. Now I don’t know what to believe.

Six
    I’ve never been to a memorial service before, but I can tell you with the utmost confidence that this memorial service is not normal. I mean, we are talking freak show here. We are talking Weirdness with a capital W.
    First of all, my parents and I and about fifty other people are sitting in my aunt’s living room. Which would be fine, except for the fact that all of the furniture has been removed and we’re sitting on the floor. In a circle. Holding hands . And to make it even creepier, the lights have all been turned off, the curtains have all been drawn, and there are candles in all four corners of the room. In the middle of the circle sits the urn holding my aunt’s ashes. All they need is dry ice and the sounds of chains clanking and people moaning and it would be an awesome setting for the B-movie version of a haunted house.
    On one side of me is my mother, and on the other side of me is a man who is a dead ringer for Jerry Garcia. He’s wearing a black leather motorcycle vest with a Hells Angels patch on it. And did I mention that we are holding hands? My father, who is