Chapter 30

Race walked out, not hearing Chrissie sputtering on the bed as the implication of his teasing set in.  "I'm spoiled?"  She thought about that, really did not like how her thoughts were coming together, and chewed on her lip until Dena poked her head around the corner.

"Hey, you," her sister smiled gleefully.  "So, how was it?"

Chrissie, deep in thought about the sincerity in Race's words when he said he spoiled her, she glanced up at Dena.  "Huh? Oh, nothing happened.  Am I spoiled?"

"What?"  She bounced on the bed next to Chrissie and kept grinning.

"Am I spoiled?" she repeated.

"What do you mean, spoiled as in tainted, or spoiled as in pampered?"

Chrissie glared because she honestly didn't think there were levels to being spoiled.  "What do you think?"

Dena rolled her mouth around a bit, thinking about her answer.  "Do you want the 'You're my sister and my very bestest friend in the whole-wide world' answer, or do you want the truth?"

Chrissie's eyes widened.  "It's true?!  I'm a spoiled, rotten...bitch!"

Now, Dena's eyes grew round.  "Did you just curse?"

"I can't believe this!  How long have I been this way?"

"Where is this coming from?"

"It's just something Race said," Chrisse replied, close to tears.  Everything from the last two weeks came crashing down on her.  Her feet-stomping, her screaming fits, how selfish she'd been during that first few days...and oh, no!  The call to the police when she first found Race and how no one would listen to her because she'd apparently done this kind of thing before.  The things Brian said to her at work, the little looks of worry and uncertainty when when things didn't go her way.  

She groaned and fell over in the bed.  "Why didn't anyone tell me I was acting like this?"

Dena huddled next to her.  "Okay, listen...yes, you've changed a little in the last few years, but no one said anything because frankly, you've deserved a little pampering."

Chrissie rolled her eyes.  "You've got to be kidding me!  How does me becoming a spoiled, little brat come from deserving it."

"Sis," Dena said quietly, "you gave up your childhood for me and Mom.  Yes, you've always been a little temperamental, but that was just your way of relieving stress."

"But..."

Dena stopped her.  "Remember when you were a sophomore in high school and you got asked to the Senior Prom by what's-his-name?"

Chrissie scowled at her sister.  Okay, just give her a minute; she always has a point to her stupid, rambling questions.  "Yeah, Josh Peters."

"Right!  Josh Peters.  He was the shiznit in high school."

"Shiznit?" Chrissie laughed.  "Is that a professional term for hot and sexy?"

"Shut up," Dena scoffed, but she smiled.  "And yes, when you're talking about a seventeen-year-old snowboarder that walked the halls like he owned the place, and was still nice and sweet to everyone."

"Okay, fine. Shiznit.  Go on."

"I'm trying to," Dena said, nearly pushing Chrissie off the bed in her exasperation.  "Just shut up, so I can."

"Do you talk to all your patients this way?"

Dena laughed.  "Now, you're sounding more like your husband.  He said the same thing to me when I tried to school him in on a little patience."

"Would you get to your point already?  I have a date."

"A date, huh?" Dena asked in a sugary voice.  "Anyone I know?"

"Dena!"

"Alright, alright.  Josh Peters.  Anyway, he asked you to the Senior Prom, and how many other sophomores were asked, do you remember?  None!  But what happened?"

Chrissie sighed.  She never liked this memory.  Why couldn't she forget this one?  "You got sick with mono, and I stayed home."

"Exactly.  Two weeks before prom, I came down with mono, and the next day, you walked right into the school and told him you couldn't go.  You gave up the Senior Prom on the arm of Josh Peters for me.  How many other sisters would have done that?"

"All of them?" Chrissie replied with a sweet, doting smile.

Dena huffed.  "Yeah, right.  But that's not all you did.  Do you remember how you saved Josh's face, so he wasn't talked about for getting dumped by a sophomore?  You took him by the arm and physically dragged him over to Shelly Holmes, another senior,  who wasn't exactly hung from the ugly tree, but you knew she was the sweetest person in the world and she harbored secret fantasies for Josh."

Chrissie snorted.  "Who didn't?"

"Me," Dena said shortly, "but never mind that.  You got Josh to ask Shelly to the prom, and you even did her hair and make-up and lent her your dress, and she turned out to be this really pretty girl underneath those glasses and curly hair.  And what happened after that?"

"I don't know," Chrissie said with a lazy wave of her hand.  She'd rather talk about her spoiled behavior but that would be selfish -- the exact thing she wanted to fix -- so she let her sister talk.  "They had a good time."

"Right!  They had such a good time that they started dating and they married the summer after high school...and not because she was pregnant or anything.  They're still very happily married and own that bakery on 7th Street in Denver.  So, you see, if you'd been selfish and a spoiled brat as a child, that would not have happened."

Chrissie raised her hands to the ceiling.  "And she gets to her point, ladies and gentleman!"

"Oh, stop," Dena said with another playful shove that sends Chrissie tumbling off the bed.  "It was only after you met Race that you started using your tantrums and little smiles to get what you wanted."

"So, this is Race's fault?" Chrissie asked from the floor.

"It's no one's fault," Dena replied hotly.  "I'll be as upfront with you as I can...you're spoiled and he's an enabler.  But it works for you two.  He loves you so much that he'd do anything for you, give you anything you want, and yes, you've taken advantage of it a few times.  But you're getting everything you've ever deserved, Chris, and he's only happy to do it for you.  Does he let you walk all over you?  Not really.  He likes your tantrums.  I've seen him start an argument just to see your eyes flash, and he never gives in on the important stuff.  He spoils you because he wants to."

Chrissie stood up.  "D, I don't want to be like this.  This is one of those things I don't like."

"Then stop."

"Stop?"

Dena shrugged.  "Yeah, stop."

Chrissie glared at her.  "All that infinite wisdom and years of college, and the only advice you have for me is, 'Stop'."

Dena sighed heavily.  "Listen, if you don't like it, then stop doing it.  It's really as simple as that.  Everybody has something about themselves that they don't like, but they never want to do anything about it.  I've seen men and women who were chronic adulterers, and they hated what they were doing to their spouses, but they won't stop cheating.  I'll agree that some people need help with their problems, but it's more the fact that they need help with their willpower...getting them to the point where they can stop.  You don't have that issue.  You can stop being a spoiled, rotten bitch anytime you choose.  You're not spoiled because of anything Race has done.  You're spoiled because you accept it and use it.  Choose to stop."

Chrissie bit her bottom lip and studied the far wall.  Stop being spoiled.  Okay, she could do that.  She looked down at her sister on the bed, wondering when Dena grew up, and wondering at the reverse in roles here.  Chrissie had always been the one to give advice, but lately, her good wisdom seemed a distant part of her, and she didn't know if it was because she was still reeling from her newly acquired marital status, or if she truly was someone other than she'd believed herself to be these last few years.  Or maybe it was all that radiation from her brain scans.

"Okay, one more question," Chrissie said.  "How can I be this way if my memories don't add up to my behavior?"

"Just because you don't remember doesn't mean it didn't happen," Dena said with a smart-ass grin.  She hopped off the bed.  "I've got something for you, by the way."  She rushed out and came back with a heavy book.  "I meant to give it to you earlier, but everything's been kind of hectic."

Chrissie scornfully eyed the book thrust into her hands.  "What is it?"

"It's help," Dena said.  "Race has been reading it, and I think -- no, I know it's been helping him get through this."

She cracked the book open to the first chapter, "Learning Patience."  Race had been reading this?  She thought back to all the doctor's appointments and the tests and the scurrying from one place to another, and then the past week when they barely spoke to one another, and she realized that he'd been very patient with it all...with her.  Hearing that there was nothing Dr. Newell could do for her snapped that patience, but up to that point, Race was relatively calm and cool most of the time...a few sparse moments of frustration, notwithstanding.  And he hadn't started one fight since he asked if she was in love with someone else, and really not even that one.  That one had been all her.  

The man in her thoughts poked his head into the room.  "Hey, stop the chattering.  I'm hungry."  He gave Chrissie a look that said he was definitely hungry, and she blushed.  How could she think she could avoid him for so long?

"I'll...I'll be just a minute," she told him.  He grinned and disappeared again.

Dena ran a hand through her tangled hair.  "You two enjoy your date," she said, smiling and rolling her eyes.  "I've got some stuff to do.  The clinic in Chicago has been hounding me for that interview, and I think I'll reschedule for next week."

Chrissie blinked.  "Okay."  She was sad that Dena had to go, but she couldn't very well keep her sister chained to her spare bedroom much longer.  Dena had a life of her own.  It was time Chrissie let her live it.

"Don't expect me back until much later," Dena added, moving toward the door.

Chrissie turned an even brighter shade of red.  "You don't have to stay away..."

"Oh, yes, I do.  Ya'll haven't had much alone time all week.  It's about time you do."

"D..."  

"Don't," Dena said sternly.  "You just said you weren't going to use your wily ways to get what you wanted."  She reached for the book and flipped through it.  "Normally, I'd suggest that you start with chapter one and read through the whole book, but for a quick lesson, skim through this section while you get ready."  She pointed to a page with the title, "Indulging Without the Gluttony."  She gave Chrissie a quick hug and scampered out of the room.

Chrissie stared at the words on the page.  The first thing that popped out to her was, "Tom Barrett, an American politician, said, 'If the rain spoils our picnic, but saves a farmer's crop, who are we to say it shouldn't rain?'  It is not the act that fosters a sour attitude, but the perception of that act."

The perception of that act.  Had she been perceiving her life as something other than it was? That she ignored how rotten she'd become, and when she finally realized, she snapped, hence her loss of memory, a way to start anew?

Chrissie blinked again.  Nah...she wasn't crazy enough to think all this happened because she ironically didn't like what she'd become so her mind was having it's own temper tantrum.  That was just ludicrous.  

Race stuck his head into the room again, saw her still standing there in her nightgown, and said,  "Hey!  Shake a leg, sweetheart...or would you rather stay in?  I'm happy either way.  What do you want?"

She glared at him.  Okay, she was willing to put an end to her spoiled attitude, but did he have to...what did Dena say?  Enable her?  "What do you want to do?"

"Whatever makes you happy," he returned, and she almost threw the book at him.

"I'm getting dressed," she growled and slammed the door in his face.  She heard him chuckle from the other side.