Past Perfect Life

by Elizabeth Eulberg

  Paula stands abruptly. “You may think you know your father, but he took you away from me. For fifteen years, I had to wake up with the thought that I had no idea where my daughter was or if she was even alive. He did that to me. He took you away from your family. He did it for himself. You may think you know your father, but I know him. He is no saint.” She angrily wipes the tears off her face. “End of discussion.”

  She takes her coffee and starts walking toward Forever 21 while I remain frozen in my seat.

  Chapter

  THIRTY-ONE

  It has become very clear that I’m swimming in a vast ocean of ignorance without a life preserver.

  So let’s look at what I do know: I lived with my dad as my sole parent for fifteen years. I have a good work ethic, I’m the top student in my class, and I’ve never gotten in major trouble, or any trouble, really. I’ve had the occasional beer at a party, but always with Dad’s knowledge. He didn’t want me hiding anything from him. (Pretty ironic, I’m aware.)

  So what would’ve happened if Dad never left and Paula was my primary caregiver?

  What would that reality look like?

  I would’ve spent the past fifteen years being shuttled back and forth between two parents. My relationship with Dad would probably have lessened over the years, and we would at least not have been as close as we were. Or are. I don’t know how to reference our relationship anymore. I’d be living a Floridian lifestyle with outdoor malls and flip-flops. I’d have completely different friends, maybe even a boyfriend. I wouldn’t even know the Gleasons existed, let alone the wonders of Wisconsin food: frozen custard, fried cheese curds, Friday night fish fries, and butter burgers. I’d be someone with different wants, needs, desires than I am now.

  I’d be a completely altered person.

  I guess the person I’d be most like is Sarah.

  I decide to knock on her door. Paula didn’t talk to either of us on the drive home. Instead she turned the radio on loudly and sang along to the songs as we all ignored one another. Once we got inside the house, Sarah went straight upstairs and slammed her bedroom door shut, while Paula went outside to talk to Craig, who was doing some yard work. I’m sure she’s discussing what an ungrateful child I am.

  That left me to hang up my new clothes and decide that enough was enough. It’s time my sister and I had a talk.

  I knock, and Sarah doesn’t answer, but I can hear her stirring inside with her television on.

  “Sarah?” I say to the door. “Can we talk? Please. I only need five minutes.”

  I wait a few beats, feeling foolish standing outside her door, begging her to talk to me. It isn’t like I want to talk to her, either, but if I’m going to live here—and I am going to live here whether we both like it or not—we need to at least be civil. I don’t have anything against her. Hell, I don’t even know her. I do know she hates me.

  The door opens, and Sarah is wearing her usual scowl. She holds up her phone, which despite her complaining looks exactly like mine. There’s a clock displayed on the screen, and it’s counting down from five minutes.

  “Speak.”

  “Can I come in?” I ask, wanting some privacy.

  Sarah sighs as she steps away from the door and plops onto her bed. I take a few cautious steps inside her bright room, the complete opposite from her disposition. She has giant sunflowers painted on her wall. It takes me a second to recognize her in the numerous photos on her bookcase because she’s smiling. She looks much younger when she’s smiling. I have yet to experience that in person.

  “Clock is ticking,” she states.

  I sit down next to her on the bed, which instantly I know is a mistake. She shifts uncomfortably.

  “Look, I don’t even know what to say or where to start, to be honest. I know this must suck for you. To have this sister pop up out of nowhere. And I’m really sorry. This has been really hard for me, too. I didn’t even know you guys existed a week ago, and now I’m living here. I just, I want you to know that I’m aware this must be difficult for you.”

  She is staring me down and not moving a muscle. I don’t think she’s going to respond, so I start to stand.

  “You don’t get it,” she finally says.

  “No, I don’t,” I admit. “Not at all.”

  “Do you have any idea what my life has been because of you?”

  I shake my head. “Please tell me.”

  “I couldn’t go outside and play. Mom was so terrified I’d get snatched up. So I had to sit inside while I listened to my friends having a great time outside. When we finally left the old house, I thought maybe she was starting to move on. Maybe I’d get some freedom. But no. We not only live in a gated community, she chose this house because of the back. Did you not notice the ten-foot fence around our entire backyard? Do you think that’s normal?”

  Honestly, I thought the fence was there to prevent people from coming into the pool. I didn’t realize it was because Paula didn’t want her daughter going out.

  “I’ve been a prisoner. I couldn’t go to sleepovers until I was ten. By then people stopped asking me because I couldn’t go anywhere without one of my parents. The fact that she let me walk fifty feet today in a public space without her was a miracle. I have lived this sheltered, suffocating life because of you. Because you were taken, I had to suffer.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say. “I really am. I had no idea. And—”

  “Saying sorry doesn’t change anything.” Her voice cracks. “Now you’re back, and I should be happy because maybe she’ll loosen her grip. Maybe I can go to the movies with friends and not have her sit right behind me.”

  “Oh God,” slips out of my mouth but causes the corners of Sarah’s lips to curl ever so slightly. “That sounds like the worst.”

  “Right? She drops me off at the front office at school every day, and that’s where I meet her after school. I can’t do any after-school activities if they’re outside. If I want to do something, she has to be able to come.”

  Poor Sarah.

  “Did you know that Mom is on medication for anxiety?” She notices my shocked expression. “No, of course not.”

  Seriously, I could fill an entire library with all the things I don’t know about Paula and her family.

  Sarah sighs. “Okay, like, I get that you were taken from her, but she has a kid who’s right here. I never seemed to be good enough. Not like I could fill a void or whatever, but I had to live in your shadow all my life. There are yearly marches on the date you were taken to remind people that you were still out there somewhere. Ever since I could remember, I’ve been that girl whose sister was kidnapped. I just want to be Sarah.”

  There were marches? I hadn’t really considered what everybody else had been going through here while I was away.

  Fifteen years.

  Fifteen years is a really long time. I should be happy Paula never gave up on me. That she fought to keep my memory alive while I was living a perfectly happy life completely unaware of her existence.

  “I didn’t realize … all of that … stuff happened.” It’s even hard to process. “All I can say is that I’m sorry. And I want us to be …” Friends? Are sisters friends? I think about the close relationship between Jan and Julia. They’re more than sisters. They’re a little unit. Then I think about Rob, who couldn’t stand to be in the same room as his brother and had a party when his brother went to college. I wish Sarah and I could be somewhere in the middle, although it seems as if we’re tilting toward estrangement.

  Sarah’s cell phone starts to chirp. “Time’s up,” she states.

  I look at her. Her demeanor had intimidated me a little, but she’s only eleven. She’s had to live with this burden for her entire life. All because of what our parents have done. Neither of us should be punished for our actions.

  She seems so small, so young—sitting on her bed with her arms around her legs and wearing a shirt with an owl on it and rainbow socks. There are three stuffed animals on her bed, whi
ch I would wager she sleeps with. She probably needs the comfort. Maybe she’s never felt safe.

  Before I can second-guess myself, I reach over and hug her. She tenses at my touch for a second, before she puts her arms around me. “I’m so sorry,” I repeat. “I’m here now, and maybe things will get better for you.”

  I feel this tug toward her that I hadn’t before. I want to protect her. I want to make up for my absence in her life. The absence that has caused her so many problems. I want to make it right. I want to make her life better.

  Sarah and I remain there for a few more moments, comforting each other.

  Like sisters do.

  The rest of the afternoon I spend in the bedroom thinking about everything Sarah told me. Then I do perhaps the scariest thing of all and put myself in Paula’s shoes. And it’s even worse than I could possibly imagine.

  I approach Paula and Craig’s bedroom after dinner. Paula is on the deck, staring out into the distance with a glass of wine in her hand. I loudly knock on the door so she can hear me.

  When she sees it’s me, a sad smile creeps on her face. “Come in. You can always come in. This is your home now.”

  I sit down on the chair next to her. We haven’t really spoken since the disaster that was this morning.

  “I was going to bring you this.” She gestures to an open box at her feet.

  I pull it over to me. As I look inside, I see several small teddy bears, a night-light with balloons, and some other trinkets. I pick up a silver frame that has a picture of a baby fast asleep on a cozy white rug. Her chin is resting on her hands; she’s wearing nothing but a diaper and a tiny pink headband with a giant flower attached.

  “You slept through the entire photo shoot,” Paula comments before taking a large sip of wine. “The photographer said he’d never seen such a peaceful baby.”

  I stare at this baby, searching for clues in her face that it’s me. Truthfully, I’ve always thought all babies look somewhat alike.

  One by one, I take out each teddy bear. They’re smaller than Snuggles, who remains on a shelf in the closet. At first, I was going to place him on the dresser, but he’s a reminder of a past that I can’t seem to grasp.

  This whole box is one giant blank space for me.

  “Your room was decorated with teddy bears,” Paula says in a small voice. “I have a picture somewhere of you even dressed up as one for your first Halloween.”

  But to Paula, this box is yet another giant reminder of all that was left behind.

  I close the box. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

  “You shouldn’t have to apologize for your father,” she says as she rubs her tired eyes.

  That’s true, but all I seem to be doing lately is apologizing. It’s not my fault, but somehow I feel it is. Not the disappearing, but the reappearing and not being grateful for it.

  “It’s not about what he did, it’s just—I didn’t know.”

  “About the box?” Paula asks, confused.

  “No, about any of this.” I gesture around, trying to not focus my attention solely on Paula.

  “Of course you didn’t know. This wasn’t your fault.”

  “I understand that, but I had no idea about everything you did to find me. Sarah told me about the marches. I went online and saw the news conference from when I first went missing.” There was an old video from a press conference that was held a week after I’d disappeared. Paula was in front of a microphone, sobbing uncontrollably, begging for me to be returned. It broke my heart to see her in so much pain.

  And now I’ve been returned all these years later and we’re both uncomfortable around each other. We’re strangers. She wants that daughter back, but I don’t think either of us knows who that person is.

  She leans back on her chair and closes her eyes. “It was an awful time. I couldn’t look at the news for years after. I once started crying in the grocery store when I picked up a carton of milk, even though there wasn’t an ad for a missing child. I couldn’t escape it, and I didn’t want to. Because I didn’t want to give up on finding you.”

  I reach out now and put my hand on hers. “I’m not really sure how I can make up for the time I was away or what you went through. Or even how I can comprehend it.” While Paula was in the grocery aisle having a breakdown, I was at school under the impression I was leading a normal life.

  “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.” She brushes away her tears. “I think it would be best for everybody if we move on. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s simply too painful. The fact is your father had you all these years, and now it’s my turn. You’re my daughter. So we are going to be a family.”

  If only it were that simple. I can’t erase my past. As much as Paula wants me to, I can’t snap my fingers and forget about the plans I had for my life.

  Chapter

  THIRTY-TWO

  It’s not getting easier.

  Of course it isn’t.

  I can’t sleep. Every time I feel myself drifting away, a random memory jolts me awake.

  Dad and I watching TV.

  Him putting another star on the calendar after I’ve finished all my homework.

  Me laughing at his attempts to sing along to any song in a Disney movie.

  Us cheering on the Packers.

  Nothing big, just the life we had built together. Isn’t that what a life is? It’s made up of little moments that make you you. Relationships are built over time, not forced.

  I turn in the bed and pull the covers over my head. I close my eyes, take deep breaths as I begin to count sheep. Something, anything that will get me to sleep away part of my time here.

  I printed out a calendar of December and already have two stars to mark the two days I’ve been here. I could technically give myself a third since it’s well after midnight. But I can only give myself a star in the evenings. I have to survive the day.

  Even though the month is halfway through, all the little squares that still need to be filled make me think getting through the next twelve days until Marian arrives will be impossible.

  I can’t even bear to think about next year.

  Yeah … So much for counting sheep.

  My mind wanders to an image of a young, crying Paula.

  If Dad had been caught when he first took me, she would’ve had time to mold me into the image she’s had in her head this entire time. I’d be a younger version of her with my hair and makeup always done. Stylish, or at least caring about style. Maybe we’d spend our weekends at the mall. Maybe I’d be a Buccaneers fan with Craig.

  It’s easier to picture the person I’d be on the outside. It’s difficult to grasp the person I’d be inside. Would I really be that different?

  How could I not?

  But I like the person I am. Or I was.

  I flip over yet again. I move my pillows around and try to get comfortable.

  Even as I toss around some more, I know that becoming comfortable is never going to happen.

  I’m still awake hours later as Paula calls down the hallway, “Breakfast! Come and get it while it’s hot!”

  I open the bedroom door right as Sarah opens hers.

  “Morning,” I say with a hesitant smile.

  “Morning,” she says, returning the smile. It’s a small gesture, but I’ll take it. “Just know this is all for you. We usually fend for ourselves for breakfast.”

  “That’s not true,” Paula yells out.

  Sarah rolls her eyes, and I can’t help but laugh. The one thing that I always envied about people who had sisters was not just the sibling bond but that you had someone in the battle against parental embarrassments.

  The dining room table is set like in a magazine. There are place mats, and fancy cloth napkins set on top of blue-and-yellow plates. Everything is color coordinated. There’s a large bowl of fruit placed in the middle of the table, surrounded by pancakes, an assortment of bagels and cream cheese, and hash browns.

  “We’re eating in the
dining room?” Sarah asks. She turns to me. “Usually we eat at the kitchen counter.”

  “Stop making us sound like barbarians,” Paula playfully scolds Sarah.

  “I’m telling it like it is.” Sarah sits down and immediately dives into the bagels.

  Craig walks in carrying a tray of sausage. “Since we’re telling it like it is, you should know we don’t always eat like this, or I’d need much bigger pants.” He pats his nonexistent stomach.

  I follow Sarah’s lead and take a bagel.

  “Is Jen still coming over tomorrow night, or is Ally my new babysitter?” Sarah asks.

  “Oh, no, we’re canceling,” Paula replies.

  “Canceling what?” I ask.

  “Well, every Sunday Craig and I have dinner with a group of friends, but we aren’t going to go this week.”

  “I’ll watch Sarah,” I offer. “I don’t mind.” Plus, you know, I’ll be here anyway.

  “Also, I’m eleven and I don’t need a babysitter,” Sarah adds.

  I didn’t have a babysitter when I was eleven. Or ever, really. I’d usually get home from school, make myself a snack, and do homework. Dad spent most nights and weekends with me. If he had something, I’d go over to Marian’s.

  “I babysit all the time back home. I have a lot of regular customers and can get references if you need them.”

  Did I just offer up references to babysit my half sister?

  I sure did.

  “You know, in case you know of anybody looking for a babysitter,” I add to try to cover up my blunder. Honestly, I wouldn’t fault them for asking for references because they don’t know me. I had spent more time over at the Dorns before I was allowed to be alone with their kids than I’ve been here (tomorrow will be four stars, which is how I’ve decided to look at it instead of days). “Anyway, I’d like to get a job.”

  I can’t have Craig and Paula keep paying for things. Plus, I need to save up for that out-of-state tuition.