A week later Ray, Alisha and I were in a stuffy office at the local bank branch, signing papers.
"So you all just had a joint account that you paid into?" The bank employee asked, clearly a little confused by two women and one man signing a mortgage agreement. "You're all siblings? And this is for your mother's house?"
"He's my brother," I said, "but those two are married. And it's for our family house."
"Huh, must get crowded in there!"
He wasn't being rude, he was just one of those people who found it strange that grown children would choose to stay in the family home rather than fly the nest - and possibly the state - to build a new life.
"Sometimes it does," Alisha piped up. "But none of us would have it any other way."
I left the bank - we all left the bank - near bursting with a feeling of pride and accomplishment. Ceecee was watching Rosa, who was running around on a grassy area near where we parked.
"Did you do it?" She asked.
"Yes we did," Ray told her, a huge grin spreading across his face. "And now we have two places to go - the hardware store to get that yellow paint and Manzino's for a we-finally-got-the-damn-house lunch."
So that's what we did, heading first to the paint store and then to Manzino's with three cans of sunshine yellow paint in the trunk. I felt lighter as I walked, bouncier, as if gravity had suddenly become slightly less powerful. And looking at the others I could see they felt it, too. A weight was gone, one that had been sitting on our family's collective shoulders for a long time.
"This weekend, then?" Alisha asked after we'd taken out seats and ordered lunch. "Tash, you can take your mother to her doctor's appointments and then keep her out of the house for a few hours. We can't have her breathing paint fumes when it's fresh."
"Yeah," I replied, shifting in my seat as an oddly unpleasant smell wafted over from the next table over. "It's warm, anyway, so we can just leave all the windows open during the day and mom's open at night. I'll dig out an extra blanket."
I glanced over to the table beside ours, curious as to the source of the smell. Alisha must have seen me wrinkling my nose. "What is it, Tash? Ray are you farting?"
Ray made an offended face and shook his head. "Nope, not me. Must be Rosa."
"Sure, blame it on the innocent child," Alisha laughed as a waitress showed up with our food. When my plate was set down in front of me it seemed to be giving off that same sickly smell I thought was coming from somewhere else.
"Ugh," I said, after she was gone. "Do you guys smell that?"
"What?" CeeCee asked. "I can't smell anything."
I passed her my plate and she sniffed it. "It smells delicious!"
I'd been hungry at the bank, looking forward to lunch. But my appetite was unexpectedly and suddenly gone. I didn't even want the plate in front of me. "Urgh," I said, pushing it away. "Sorry, but that's making me feel sick."
It was unusual for me to turn down food, especially at Manzino's. Ray looked at me, concerned. "You were just saying how hungry you were, Tash. Are you OK? Did you eat breakfast this morning?"
"Yes," I replied. "Cornflakes."
"Was the milk off?"
"No, I would have noticed."
"Well, we can just get this doggy-bagged and you can take it home for later."
But I didn't want it doggy-bagged. I didn't want to eat that sandwich, with its weird smell, at any point. It wouldn't go away, either, that smell. A few minutes later I felt my stomach lurch and stood up quickly, my hand over my mouth. Alisha, mother to a young child and more than familiar with puke, immediately leaped to her feet and guided me to the bathroom.
"OK," she said. "Ok, Tash. Are you going to throw-up?"
Alisha bustled me into the restroom and stood beside me, rubbing my back gently, while I braced myself against the sink, trying to will the awful, sour taste in my mouth away. I tried to slow my breathing but I could feel sweat breaking out on my forehead.
"I hate getting sick," I whispered, wincing at another lurch in my belly. "Couldn't you smell that sandwich? It was like the meat was off or something."
Alisha narrowed her eyes at me for a second, and was about to say something when I felt it coming and dashed into a stall. When it was over I stood up, legs trembling, and wiped my mouth against the back of my wrist.
"Here," Alisha handed me a kleenex from her purse as I looked at my sweaty face in the mirror. "Wipe your mouth, sweetie."
I wiped my mouth as instructed and sighed with relief as the extreme nausea of a few minutes ago dissolved into a kind of blessed relief. Then I caught her eye and grinned.