(65) A Key Concept

“So Josh finally got the Explorer.” I turn towards my sister, her eyes meeting mine from where she’s seated next to me. Behind us through the window the sky is dark and the sliver of a moon still causes the walls of plowed snow to glow under its watchful eye.

“Oh my gosh,” Olivia brightens, sitting uprightly in her mint hued, wool turtleneck, “that just reminded me of this dance we had a month ago. It was a couples’ night, you would have died if you had been there! It was hysterical, Jen Dear and Paul Renolds went as J.Lo and Ben. Jen of course came in leather pants and had a giant pink ring pop, and Paul just wore khakis and a button down shirt…”

“And how did you get that from my telling you about Josh’s car?” I ask, somewhat with agitation.

“Oh,” she rolls her eyes, “I was ABOUT to tell you, that Allison Carol and Mike Foster were Calista Flockheart and Harrison FORD, which is kind of sad, because I really have been led to believe that Allison might actually be anorexic…”

I continue to listen to her, as we pull up the driveway, mentally reminding myself that tomorrow she will be going back to school, that it will be another few months before she’s home for spring break. The repeated assurances from various adults that my sister and I “will grow closer as we both get older” have not rung true, and having dear Olivia home for the weekend to help celebrate Grandma’s birthday yesterday has only made that realization all the more apparent. It seems like every thing I try to tell her triggers some exciting college-life memory, and while I figured the distance between us would bring us closer, this world full of people, places, and experiences that I know nothing about have if anything made our relationship’s gap even wider.

We both step out of the suburban, entering the frigid air as we stuff our hands in the pockets of our pea coats, and shut the doors behind us. “Well that was a nice evening wasn’t it?” My father walks next to me, clearly satisfied that for once the Knight family is complete, as all four of our shadows stretch along the cement heading for the front door. He is obviously overjoyed with my sister’s presence, and hasn’t shown the slightest pain from the constant ringing of her cell phone during meals, her endless need to be on AOL, and the merciless way she refers to Gettysburg as “home.”

“Oh no.” My bitter thoughts are immediately forgotten, as I immediately search my mother’s face. The rest of us have been standing next to the pillars, waiting patiently for her to unlock the door.

“What’s the problem, honey?” My father looks at her puzzled, as the February cold starts to creep up the legs of my black pants, and I rub my hands together for warmth. Then, my mother reveals the reason for her distress.

“My house key, it isn’t here.” She starts shuffling through her purse, pulling out packets of tissue, her wallet, and metal tubes of lipstick that gleam from the front lights. “It must be here somewhere…” she murmurs, looking up as she runs her gloved hands along the sides of her black quilted jacket. We remain standing somewhat patiently, waiting for her to find that one crucial key. “It must have fallen off,” she tells us worriedly, “Trip, it could be anywhere!” Suddenly my heart’s pace begins to quicken and my toes start to lose their feeling. I have never yearned to be inside, behind that black painted door as much as I do at this moment.

“Okay, well Knights, let’s not panic now. There’s a logical solution to this, Grace, go get the spare key.” Silence encloses around us, and I start to hear my teeth banging against one another in my mouth.

“I don’t have a spare key.” I hear my mother reply. My father’s eyes start to widen.

“YOU DON’T HAVE ANOTHER KEY?” He bellows. “Olivia, where is yours?”

“I don’t live here anymore, Dad, remember? Daria has it.” He looks at me wildly.

“It’s in the silver dish on the ladies’ desk.” I tell him forlornly. And so it starts.

For some reason it was my responsibility to have gotten a copy made for my mother after my father lost his and had to take the one we had originally kept under the welcome mat. This was of course all news to me. “It’s not my fault,” I protest angrily after a few minutes of arguing, “You should have reminded me about THREE months ago!”

“I reminded you YESTERDAY!” He yells, the vein on his upper forehead standing out like a cobra ready to strike. My frustration only intensifies.

“You did not, you told me to make my bed and take out the trash. Maybe you-”

Suddenly we both stop, turning our faces from one another to gaze at my mother. She’s standing overwhelmingly calm still in front of the door, and an unmistakable smile has crept into the corners of her mouth. Our own mouths gaping, she pulls from the folds of her coat a shining silver key. Staring at her, she inserts the piece of metal into the lock and it opens with a delightful click. “Good thing I went to the store today and had a spare made, isn’t it?” None of us move. “Tripper, Olivia, Daria, I want all of you to join me in the family room. We are about to have a very important discussion.”

After settling ourselves somewhat comfortably on the couch, she lights a fire and then joins us as she pulls over her favorite wing chair. Warmth beings to encompass the room, and without a doubt, I realize another beloved family counsel is about to commence.

“My parents, and your father’s parents, as you know, lived through the Great Depression,” she explains, crossing one leg over the other and allowing her hands to fall naturally into her lap. “Yesterday, when I went to the basement to get the ice cream, I was reminded of that. As you all know, my mother has enough food stored in there to feed all of Darien for six months.” I smile as my mother continues, picturing the carefully labeled boxes of a year’s supply of products from powdered sugar to saran wrap. “The other day she remarked on the phone how high gas prices have gone up. She told me that she refuses to pay so much just to fill up her tank, and therefore will not be driving any longer, which of course is a relief to all of us, as well as all of Massachusetts.”

We all chuckle good naturedly. An image of Grandma burning up Route 128 with decreasing eyesight and her Cadillac’s broken speedometer needle would cause anyone to stay awake at night. “The point is,” my mother adds, “is that she can do that. Since she has so carefully saved and kept all of those provisions in that basement, she can stay in her house and still survive. What about our family?

“The house key falling off its ring was a freak accident, you might say. Oh, and before I forget,” she digs in the pocket of her gray slacks and pulls out another key which she slips back onto the piece of silver that holds all of her other keys. It is finally clear to all of us, we had just been set up.

“That kind of thing happens one in a million times.” My mother murmurs. “The likeliness of that situation occurring is probably close to us being hit with a nuclear bomb from Iraq, or having an earthquake that splits Darien, Connecticut right down the middle. The point is, are we prepared for it if it does? With unemployment rising, who’s to say that Trip, you couldn’t lose your job? Of course we have money saved in the bank for purposes such as these, but what if we couldn’t get to that money? Daria, how did you feel ten minutes ago when you thought we didn’t have a key?”

I look at her, suddenly put on the spot. “Well, I felt helpless, desperate.” I reply. “I wanted to be inside where it was warm, where there was food.” I run my finger along the fringe of the plump needlepoint pillow next to me in thought.

“Well I for one”, Olivia blurts, “think this is totally stupid. I can’t believe you contrived freezing us to death to garner sympathy for your little doomsday plan! I think you are all just watching way too much CNN. It’s clearly time for me to go home.” There, she said the H word again. I want to hit her with the pillow I am now clutching as I wonder who is crazier, Livvy for thinking this could never happen, or Mother for thinking it could.

“Just like having a spare key,” undaunted, my mother beams holding it up, “there are certain precautions we can take and plans we can make to be more prepared for unexpected situations, and with our country about to engage in war, I feel more strongly than ever that we should start now. I think we should start setting aside supplies in our basement just incase we might need them.”

“We should make a list,” my father adds, after coming to the realization of what our mother is trying to accomplish. He pulls out the trusty whiteboard from its place behind the couch, and then the counsel begins. Full of eagerness and excitement, having learned from tonight’s experience of the importance of family preparedness, we begin to organize our thoughts. Soon we have made plans for food storage, water supply, and 72 hour kit backpacks for each member of the family full of lights sticks, solar powered radios, water ponchos, thermal tents, toilet paper, dehydrated food, and oh, don’t forget the duct tape. As we break for chocolate frosted brownies, I think to myself, “Perhaps we will never have to use these items, but it’s nice to know that if we ever did, we are getting prepared.”