The Secrets She Keeps

by Jolie Moore

  “You may not use that tone in our house,” Mom said, wiping her hands on her apron. “He’s our son as much as you’re our daughter, but his journey to our family was different. To pretend otherwise would be unfair to him.” Always the diplomat, Joyce had been. She’d mediated thousands of family disputes with a calm hand. Nothing had changed there.

  Brooke’s eyes nearly caught fire. “Mom! You don’t need to talk down to me like I’m one of your restless kids during the handwork class.”

  “Don’t I get a pass?” I asked my sister. “Your parents didn’t leave you on the proverbial doorstep, Brooke. Is it too much for all of you that I wanted to find out why someone didn’t wrap me up and take me home?”

  “But that’s exactly it, Lucas,” Brooke said, jabbing a finger toward my chest, not quite touching. “Some people did wrap you up and take your crying fuzzy blond self home. You were not raised in an orphanage or by wolves in the jungle.”

  “I never said they’d done anything wrong.” I gestured toward the only parents I’d ever known.

  “So why did you have to go find these other people?” Brooke looked like she was on the verge of tears.

  “Because I wanted to know my own origin story. Why can’t you get this? I’ve been on dozens of adoptee advocate websites and those people get it.” I paused for a long time before saying quietly, “I just needed to know.”

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Mom asked in a whisper-soft voice. I looked away from my sister and toward her. No tears spilled, but her eyes were red rimmed nonetheless. Her face held the same tension it did at her aunt’s funeral.

  I abandoned the stool for the long oak table. Fingering the hand-embroidered runner one of my mother’s more devoted students had made for her, I didn’t have to meet any of their eyes. “I could use that wine, Mom,” I said.

  The unsealing of the fridge door was the only sound in the room. Mom pulled out a deep yellow chardonnay. I’d have preferred something that packed a much bigger punch. Nari’s method of dealing with things had some validity, I was learning. But I didn’t say a thing and graciously accepted the cool wine.

  “Nari and I went down to meet Laura. That’s her name—Laura Wallace.”

  Brooke stood on tiptoe to pull another glass from the cupboard. She sat at the table and helped herself to a large glass of wine. “Who’s Nari?”

  “She’s the girl…a woman…she’s a doctor in my office,” I finally stuttered out. “She drove down to San Diego with me.”

  “How was she?” Mom asked, pouring her own glass of wine. I tried not to be taken aback. I think I could count on a single hand the times I’d seen my mother drink anything stronger than herbal tea. “Laura, is that right?”

  “She’d been looking for me as well, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Mom nodded then took a huge gulp of wine.

  “She’s nice. After Nari and I left, she called my birth father. I met him as well.”

  “What’s his name?” Dad asked.

  “William Coates.”

  I gave them the Cliff Notes version about William being in the military and their marriage falling apart at the same time Laura was pregnant.

  “Is it what you hoped it would be?” Mom asked.

  No, it wasn’t at all what I’d hoped. But I think I was starting to realize there was no perfect scenario that was going to make it all okay for me. “It was fine. Nari thinks they might get back together.” I fobbed off my hopeful fantasy on my absent lover.

  “Did they have other children?” dad asked.

  “Nope. I was it. William dedicated his life to the military. I’m not sure why Laura didn’t have more. I didn’t ask.”

  “Why does this Nari think they’re getting back together?” Brooke asked.

  “We had them over for dinner at my place. When Nicolette, that’s Will’s girlfriend, stepped out, Laura and Will reconnected.”

  “This doctor Nari was at your apartment?”

  “She helped me with dinner. As kind of a hostess, you know.”

  “Doctors have certainly expanded their roles,” Brooke said, her brown eyebrows nearly meeting her red bangs.

  “Stop acting like we’re thirteen again. Nari and I have been seeing each other. Okay.”

  I knew I must have really upset things when my sex life was a more comfortable topic than adoption. “Is it serious?” my mom asked.

  “No. We’re just friends,” I answered.

  “Sounds like more than friends.” Brooke again.

  “We were dating, I guess. But we’ve decided it’s not serious.”

  “Why not?” my dad asked. Uh-oh. As the father of a daughter he took strong exception to Christian and I treating women with anything less than the utmost respect.

  “It’s complicated,” I dodged.

  “Does she know,” my father raised his hands in air quotes, “it’s complicated.”

  “I told her there couldn’t be a relationship,” I said. “You always say we shouldn’t lead women…down a path we’re not ready to follow.”

  “And she’s okay with that?” my mother probed.

  “We’ve made a truce,” I said, feeling very warm under their collective scrutiny.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Brooke asked. Of course she’d hit on that thousand dollar question.

  “Our values don’t align,” I hedged.

  “Spill it,” Brooke said. “Otherwise I’ll get Christian here to torture it out of you. He can be relentless.”

  Didn’t I know that. There wasn’t a family secret my brother Christian didn’t know. Everyone caved to him because it was easier than him giving you the eye for days on end.

  “She was married.”

  “Oh,” Mom said, sitting back in the cane backed chair.

  Brooke leaned forward, pressed more. “He said was married, mom. What happened to her husband?”

  “He died,” I answered, resigned to the interrogation.

  Brooke put her graphic novel down, the thumb holding her place, forgotten. “Did she kill him?”

  “I think she couldn’t have kept her medical license if she were a convicted murderer.”

  “Did she kill her abusive husband? Get off on a self-defense? Do you have a problem with a woman who’s killed before, even if it was to defend her life?” Brooke’s questions continued unabated.

  “Maybe you should write one of those comic books you still read,” I said.

  “They’re called manga, Lucas,” she corrected. Then she leaned forward with renewed interest. “Am I right?”

  “No, you’re not right.”

  “What was it then?” Dad asked, giving up his silence.

  “Sorry I’m late. Glad you haven’t started eating,” Christian said, bringing the sound of wind, a sweep of leaves, the smell of pine with him as he slipped into the kitchen. He leaned down to hug Mom around the shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks. Not for the first time I marveled at their cheeks jutting at the same angle, the same dimple on the side of their chins. Before Mom’s was more gray than not, they’d had exactly the same hair color. “What’s what?”

  There went any chance I could keep this one a secret. Christian Put The Screws To You Tucker was in the house.

  “Lucas was telling us why he can’t date Nari,” Brooke said, accepting the hug and catching their brother up.

  “You’re dating. Her name is Nari. That’s a cool name, I’ve never heard it before.”

  “It’s Japanese. I think it means thunder or lightning. I can’t remember, but I saw it somewhere.”

  “Is it because she’s Japanese, Lucas,” my mom said, frowning.

  “She’s not Japanese. She’s Korean from California by way of New Jersey.”

  “Do you have a picture?” Brooke asked, snagging my phone from where I’d left it on the table.

  I snatched it back. “No. We don’t have that kind of relationship. Plus I’m not a teenager. I don’t have her picture as my wallpaper or something like t
hat.” Not that I hadn’t wanted to do it. Inappropriately my mind’s eye remembered her nude body next to mine, snapping a picture of that for these nights I was going to be alone, then quickly scuttled those thoughts.

  Brooke threw her hands up on mock surrender. “Oh, okay Mr. Prickly Pear.”

  Four pairs of Tucker eyes looked at me. “I told her I couldn’t see her because she gave her baby up for adoption. Okay? I don’t feel comfortable with that.”

  The silence stretched out—long.

  Cringing at my utter lack of discretion, I spun out the long tale of Nari and Andrew. She’d kill me if she’d heard me talking—spilling all her carefully guarded secrets.

  Mom’s eyes were red rimmed, but for an entirely different reason this time. “That’s so sad for her. I hope she finds someone she can spend her life with.”

  That hit me like a ton of bricks. Nari would eventually find someone else—a real life partner. Her friends with benefits fuck-buddy relationship would have to end. It could be sooner rather than later. She was smart and beautiful. If she made a small effort, I’m sure there was a guy who’d step in to help her heal, make her smile. And that guy wasn’t going to be me. And yet, I wasn’t quite ready to step aside.

  “So you’re taking up her time, but you don’t have marriage or any kind of long term relationship in mind?” Dad asked. I knew from his tone that I’d violated the nice guy code he’d laid down for Christian and I years before.

  I nodded and stood, walking to the counter. I moved the stack of plates Mom had put out to the table and pulled out cutlery, napkins. “Can I put this in a bowl?” I asked, lifting the lid of the big pot. Coconut scented steam filled my face, blotting out the judgmental faces around me. I dished out vegetables, brown rice, and mom’s homemade kefir soda.

  The best thing about being one of three was that the focus on any one of us came and went pretty quickly. Dad and Christian got into it about tenure and the treatment of adjunct faculty. That would keep them occupied for a long time. Time that allowed me to think about how I was going to quit Nari for her own good.

  Chapter 31

  Nari

  “I miss Loehmanns,” I said.

  Daisy looked up from the dress she was inspecting. It was blue with flowers. Sometimes I wondered if she were trying out for a tampon commercial. She had to have dozens of these fitted spring picnic dresses. Since she didn’t attend alumni functions at Hancock Park mansions or Newport beach parties, I thought she should take her wardrobe in a different direction. But I didn’t say it out loud.

  Friendship may have been about telling the truth, but it was also about knowing when to share that truth. Now wasn’t that time.

  “I hated that place. Squeezing between racks of clothes. That shared dressing room. I never wanted to see that many naked women. I never want to see that many naked women again.”

  I couldn’t help myself. “Says the woman who’s looked at naked women every day for nearly a decade,” I said.

  Daisy looked at me for a long moment. Pursed her lips. She picked up another dress, this one a sheath with large pink poppies or camellias or something like that. It was a bridal shower, baby shower dress. I looked away from that train wreck. I was hitting Nordstrom and Bloomingdales today. Sorting the dreck from the good stuff was harder at these stores that tried to cater to everyone’s tastes from socialite to mother-of-the-bride. But I couldn’t beat their return policy. Those cute little boutiques on Melrose or Robertson were “all sales final” kinds of places.

  “Are you going to buy that dress?”

  “I’ll think about it,” Daisy said.

  I looked over the racks and motioned to Eun-ji. “Let’s get lunch then.”

  After we ordered, I looked at my cousin. “What did your parents say?”

  “That I have to move back in to your condo.” She shook her head.

  I matched that movement. “We can agree that you living with me wasn’t working for us. You want to date guys. A lot of guys. I think that’s fair. You’re in college. I think you should go for it. But I can’t have college boys in my apartment.” That first morning waking up with a half-naked seventeen- year old boy walking around had scared the crap out of me. It had been wrong on so many levels. Not the least of which was him hitting on me. His half-naked skinny ass was out the door in no more time than it took to toss him his clothes. But I knew the floodgates were open. Another one would follow that one. Eun-ji was cute and had no boundaries. And I didn’t want to raise her.

  Eun-ji nodded in agreement. “But Dad says you’ll do it because you owe it to him. What does that even mean?”

  I sighed. I was tired of my secrets wielding power over me. “Do you remember the summer I came to stay with you?”

  “I think so. I was eight or nine, right?” she asked, toying with her phone.

  I turned her phone upside down, breaking her eye contact with that screen. “Oma, Apa, they sent me to Korea because I was pregnant and they didn’t want anyone here to know.”

  “You were pregnant! Oh my God! What happened to the baby? Who was the father?” She looked at Daisy who was calmly pulling small bones from her miso cod. “Did you know?”

  I eyed my best friend, signaling her discretion. Daisy only nodded. She was an old pro from Connecticut who was the very picture of decorum. Didn’t scold me for only having found this out herself.

  “I was married my last year in college,” I said. As always, when I thought about Andrew I lost my appetite, but I didn’t want to throw up or cry. So that was an improvement. Maybe the healing had finally begun.

  I could see that I was blowing my adolescent cousin’s mind. “You wanted to move out. You told me you were an adult. This isn’t the kid’s table.”

  “I know, Ajumma but…. Wow. I always thought you were perfect.”

  “No one’s perfect. I did get pregnant by accident. But I loved Andrew and we got married.”

  “Why didn’t you keep the baby?”

  I pushed away the artfully arranged Chinese chicken salad. Someone would throw this perfectly good food into the garbage. So much of my life was a waste, time lost, too many clothes, uneaten food. Maybe I’d box it to go. “Ajumma?” Eun-ji probed.

  “I came back to California before the baby was born. I gave her up for adoption. Then started medical school.”

  “Just like that?”

  “There weren’t a lot of choices,” I said. Nothing in life was ”just like that.” But that wasn’t a lesson I could or wanted to teach. If Lucas couldn’t even understand it, how would Eun-ji?

  “What happened to the boy? The guy you married?”

  I tried to speak, but my throat had closed up. Irrationally I wondered if I had an allergy. Where was the nearest Epi-Pen?

  “He died in a car accident during our senior year. A drunk driver hit him in New Jersey,” I heard Daisy say.

  “Ohh. I’m so sorry,” Eun-ji said. “That must have sucked. That was that summer, huh?”

  I could see my cousin’s wheels spinning. She was filtering new knowledge through the lens of her memory. I wanted to tell her that her life would be filled with such moments. Revelations, facts you had to reassess. Things you discover were not exactly how you thought they were. Like the regret I was starting to acknowledge about Minnie. Something I’d never let myself think about.

  “Why are you telling me this?” Eun-ji asked, pulling me back to the conversation at hand.

  “Because I love you enough to know that you need to spread your wings. Because I’m going to tell your parents and mine that you’re not welcome back in my apartment. Because your mom may let the cat out of the bag. But I’m over thirty and don’t care about the wagging tongues of our extended Korean family or the judgment of the church family here. At the end of whatever happens, your parents will be happy to keep you where you are and away from my corrupting influence. And we can both agree with that, right?”

  My cousin nodded her head. I was giving her what she wanted, her freedom
. Even if it came about in this completely backhanded way, I knew she was going to take it.

  The table vibrated. “Oh, my phone,” Eun-ji said, picking up the saucer sized computer she’d laid on the edge of the table. A silly smile creased her face. “I gotta go. Thanks for lunch,” she said.

  She was out the door before I could ask if she needed a ride. But I guess the boy of the moment had a car and would pick her up and take her wherever. For a long moment, I missed that freedom.

  “You ready?” I asked.

  Daisy flagged down the waitress, paid the check. I ushered us out of there. We walked a bit through the mall, which had gone out of its way to replicate some small town Americana ideal right down to the streetcar. Daisy sat on a bench. I swiped at the dust on the wood slats before joining her. Then I braced myself for the explosion that was coming. Three. Two. One. Houston….

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “I didn’t know how to tell you,” I said. My best friend had been too quiet, too accepting of my revelation. It was only a matter of time before her hurt feelings festered and blew up all over me. It had been too much to hope she was going to gloss over my lack of trust in our friendship.

  “So now I’m right behind your porn star wannabe cousin?”

  “Thanks for not saying anything at lunch about you just finding out. For not making that harder than it needed to be.”

  “Seriously? I’m an adult. The difference between adults and children is that we don’t navigate our lives out loud.”

  “I thought she should know the why behind everything,” I said, trying to gloss over the betrayal I could see in her eyes.

  “Why like this? Why are you suddenly so candid now?”

  “I told Lucas. And then Simon. You. I’m tired of hiding.”

  “I honestly thought we were friends. You know everything there is to know about me. Everything. But I feel like I don’t know anything about you. You got pregnant? You had a baby? You told me you were in Korea that summer because you wouldn’t be able to go back for a long time with medical school and everything.”

  “That wasn’t the truth,” I said, squinting at the memory of that drawn-out lie. The second or third of many such misstatements and half-truths in the last dozen years.