“Do you know why she left?”
"Because she was smart. I had a talk with her. She sat right in this room when it was still my office. I told her that Deacon would never marry her, and when he finally got tired of her, she'd be a pariah. I told her I'd found my son a wife more suited for him. She left Missouri, and I thought the matter was settled."
He signaled for more water, and his strength grew with every minute.
"If I'd known about you…" He dissolved into a coughing fit. One of the nurses stepped forward, and he waved her away. "Especially after Vanessa was such a disappointment. Beautiful, intelligent, charming, and well-bred but couldn't do the one goddamn thing she was supposed to. I told Deacon to divorce her years ago. To find someone else before it was too late, but he wouldn't do it."
“Wait.” I sat up. “You’re the reason Crystal left Missouri.”
The realization dawned on me that he was also the reason Crystal insisted on living under an alias, didn't want Deacon to leave his wife, omitted his name from CJ's birth certificate, and opted for a home birth. She was terrified of Blake Welles. I suspected his chat that scared her so much that she fled to New York with me was more ominous than he let on. He must have threatened her somehow.
"Watch your tone, boy," he said in a low growl with a furious glint in his eye. "Your mother wasn't one of us. She didn't have what it took to raise a Welles man. And trust me, if I'd known about you, it would have happened."
“You would have taken me away from her.”
"Taken," he scoffed. "People like your mother wouldn't take much convincing. I would have offered her money, and she would've gladly given you up. And if she didn't, well, I wasn't going to let my grandson be raised by those sorts of people. Not with my blood in your veins."
For a split second, I wondered what he would think about the family I was raised in but instantly realized that I didn't want to know and didn't care. "You're wrong." My mother was a lot of things, but she loved me. It all made sense. She did everything she did to keep me safe and to keep me away from this monster, whose frailty didn't make him any less dangerous.
"I don't know. Maybe I should have let Deacon marry your mother." He mused. "It doesn't matter now, does it? She's dead. So is my only son. Vanessa is intent on drinking herself to death. I'm dying, and all I have left to carry on my name and bloodline is you."
“And your other grandson.”
“What?”
“You have another grandson. Crystal and Deacon had another baby. They hid him from you, with good reason.”
“You’re lying.” He began to cough again. I took my phone out of my pocket and showed him a photo of CJ. I no longer feared this man or what he could do to me or my family, but I wanted him to know everything he’d lost. CJ and I may have his blood, but we’d never have his name or his legacy.
“I want to see him. I don’t have long. The doctors say days or weeks. I want to see him before I die.”
“That’s not gonna happen.” I took the phone and put it back in my pocket.
“You can’t turn your back on me. I’m your family, and like it or not, when I die, all this becomes yours.” He waved a skeletal hand around the dimly lit room we were in.
"I already have a family, and I don't need anything from you."
* * *
A week later, when I was back in New York, I got the call that Blake Welles had died. He made good on his word to leave everything to me. Maybe he was hoping that once I understood the full scope of my inheritance, I would become seduced by power and change my mind.
I left Welles Industries and all its subsidiaries to the board of directors until I had time to sort through my feelings about everything.
I asked that Vanessa's allowance be increased on the condition that she sought treatment and gave raises to all of her support staff, especially Dagmar. I dismissed all of Blake Welles' support staff with a year's salary as severance and donated his villain's lair of a mansion to an organization that fosters and supports pregnant teens at risk. I insisted it be called The Crystal G. West Center, so her name would appear in big letters on the house where Blake Welles told her she would never belong.
I felt lighter after my trip to Missouri. I had a new understanding of my mother, what she sacrificed for me and what she was protecting me from. I thought of the pain she must have felt being separated from the person she loved most in the world. I'd been separated from Lisa for almost a month, and I felt like I was suffocating without her. When Crystal had a chance to be with Deacon again, she took it, and why not? I was an adult. I had the family she gave me. Why didn't she tell me any of this shit while she was alive?
Maybe she did, a small voice in my head whispered. Maybe she tried.
I ventured down to the ground floor apartment of my house. CJ was at Mom and Dad's, so I sat on the floor and pulled one of the boxes from her Missouri apartment over to me and sliced it open. The familiar smell of her perfume hit me, enveloping me like a welcoming hug as I began to sift through its contents.
Mrs. Buckley, Crystal's landlady, was gracious enough to pack up Crystal's apartment and ship its contents. Every item was wrapped with care.
In one box, I discovered photos of Crystal and Deacon. There was a note in the box. Crystal had apparently involved her landlady in her secret life and Mrs. Buckley concealed the photos of Deacon before the police searched her apartment. I flipped through an album filled with pictures of them in high school wearing terrible nineties fashion. There were newer photos of my birth parents as adults. In a few of them, Crystal was cradling a baby bump. There were photos of CJ as an infant in Deacon's arms. I set aside a framed photograph of the three of them taken on CJ's first birthday to put in his nursery.
I spent the rest of the afternoon opening and examining the contents of every box, getting to know the mother I was only beginning to understand. I spent so much of my life resenting Crystal, but spending the last six months falling in love with CJ and Lisa gave me an insight that provided the final key to unlock the part of my heart that I thought I would never access. I'd always thought of Crystal trying her best to give me a good life, but she didn't just try. She did it. Every hard decision she made gave me the life I have today: a life I wouldn't trade for anything.
Crystal's letters to me were piled in an unruly heap in the top drawer of the dresser in the bedroom. I dug my hand in and scooped them out in one handful. I put them in order by the postmark, opened the first one, and as I began to read, the first tears that I'd shed for the mother I lost fell onto the pages.
30
lisa
“Merry Christmas, mija!”
"Merry Christmas, Mami" It was too early for this. The last week of the tour was particularly brutal. I'd been having trouble sticking to my diet because it was hard to find foods I could eat. I was barely getting enough sleep, and the only thing that wasn't suffering was my performance. Somehow, I always managed to pull it together for the show. Afterward, I would fall apart. Most of all, I was missing Cole and CJ while seriously regretting joining this tour. CJ's adoption hearing was in two days, and Cole won't even talk to me about it.
“I can’t believe you have to work today. It’s Christmas.”
"Well, Mami, people go to the theater on Christmas. We only have one show, so it's not too bad."
"Guess where I am," she asked, and her question confused me.
“I don’t know. Where are you?”
“Hold on.”
“Hola, mi viejita.”
"Abuelita?" I sighed, and my eyes filled with tears. I've been on the verge of tears most of the time lately, so this shouldn't have been that surprising.
“Claro que si, mi amor. ¿A quién más estabas esperando?” She laughed and I laughed. I didn’t know who I was expecting, but I was so glad to hear her voice.
"¿Cómo están mi abogado sexy y mi muñequito?" I could hear the smile in her voice as she asked about Cole and CJ and listening to her terms of endearment for them made my
heart clench as more tears welled in my eyes.
“Muy bien, Abuelita. ¿Y tú?”
“Siempre estoy bien pero te extraño a ti y a tu pequeña familia.”
I wanted to tell her that I also missed my little family, but instead, I let her know that we missed her, too, and asked to speak to my mother.
“So, Papi finally convinced you to come to Puerto Rico with him?”
"Well, I sent my book to my editor and I missed my family here. Your father most of all. And here I am." Her voice sounded full of the tranquility that comes with being in proximity to ones you love. Missing Cole and CJ has changed me, not to mention my demanding schedule and hormonal assaults. I've also missed my last two video conference therapy sessions. I was spiraling, and I couldn't tell Cole. He was already so stressed about the hearing. I didn't want to give him anything else to worry about.
“Mami, I have to go get ready for rehearsal. I love you and have so much fun with Abuelita. Eat all the food for me.”
“I love you, Lisa. Please take care of yourself.”
“I will.” I hated lying to my mother, but conversations with her were more overwhelming than usual. I actually had another hour before I had to go to rehearsal, but I needed a break.
My phone rang again. I rolled my eyes before picking it up. "Hey, baby, Merry Christmas," I said in my best facsimile of a cheerful voice.
“Merry Christmas, neighbor.”
My heart always did a little flip when he called me neighbor, though we’d come so far since the days when he would camp out on his stoop waiting for me to leave my apartment. “Where are you?” I closed my eyes and hoped he would give me a room number or say New Hampshire, so I wouldn’t have to spend Christmas without him, but those hopes were dashed.
“I’m in New York. CJ and I are on our way to Mom and Dad’s to open gifts.”
He didn't sound as sad as I felt he should've, or maybe that was my disappointment talking. My throat formed a giant lump, and tears began to spill down my cheeks. I took a deep breath, remembering that I chose to join the tour, and being mad at Cole for being a supportive boyfriend was irrational, but I was still angry at him.
He told me he loved me and that he missed me. I parroted his words in what I hoped was a cheerful tone. He joked that I shouldn't break any actual legs at my show, and I couldn't bring myself to laugh. He asked me if something was wrong, and I lied. I ended our phone call by telling him the same story I told my mother about not wanting to be late for rehearsal and hung up. Only after I slammed the phone down on my nightstand did I realize that I hadn't talked to CJ.
Thirty minutes later, I stepped out of my shower to find Michelle sitting on my bed, facing the bathroom door.
“Is something wrong?” I asked as I pulled my hair out of the t-shirt I’d wrapped it in.
“You tell me?” She’d crossed her arms over her chest and crossed one leg over the other.
"I'm fine." I walked over to the closet, pulled out my suitcase, and began digging for something clean to wear to rehearsal.
“Is that why you were crying in the shower?”
I didn't know she could hear me. I felt like a raw wound: open, bleeding, and sensitive. "It's Christmas, and I miss my family," I mumbled, continuing to avoid eye contact with her.
"Then, it's been Christmas for two weeks." She stood and crossed to her side of the room. I looked at her, and she raised her eyebrows, daring me to contradict her. "It's none of my business, but if you're going through something, you can talk about it. It's obvious you're going through something." She shrugged into her jacket and slung a tote bag over her shoulder and walked to the door.
"I'm fine," I called to her retreating figure, making her the third person I'd lied to in as many hours.
She shot me a yeah, right expression before walking through the door and closing it softly behind her.
* * *
Rehearsals went better than they should have given my state of mind, and the show was perfect. For two and a half hours, I was someone else. I was Sonia.
Sonia didn’t have PCOS.
Sonia wasn't hundreds of miles away from everyone she loved on Christmas Day.
Sonia wasn’t angry at her boyfriend for something that wasn’t his fault.
Sonia wasn’t bone-achingly exhausted and hungry all the time.
* * *
When the curtain closed, my body was buzzing with all the performance-high adrenaline, and I changed as quickly as I could and rushed to the stage door to greet showgoers and sign playbills before it wore off and lonely, grumpy Lisa returned.
With a deep breath and plastered-on smile, I walked through the door onto the sidewalk to be greeted by a crowd that was larger than usual. I smiled, signed playbills, and thanked them for coming. A large bouquet of flowers caught my eye. It struck me as odd because it was covering the upper body and face of whoever was carrying it. I ventured closer and the bouquet lowered, revealing Sasha and Micaela.
A loud squealing sound filled the alley of the theater, and it took me a few seconds to realize it was coming from me. I ran toward them, to hug them, and forgot about the red velvet rope separating us. I stumbled forward, causing the stanchions to topple over.
When I managed to get to them, we squeezed each other in a three-way hug, screaming and laughing. My tears had made a return appearance, but they were happy tears.
“That was funny as hell,” Micaela said. “You should do that in the show.”
The three of us burst out laughing again when I felt a tug on my coat. I turned around to see a little girl with deep brown skin, large brown eyes, and an excited smile holding out her playbill for me to sign. I smiled at her before turning to Sasha and Micaela, giving them an I’m so sorry look.
“Girl, do what you gotta do. We’re not going anywhere,” Sasha said, wrapping her arms around Micaela’s waist.
I spent the next few minutes signing and greeting the last of the theatergoers, glancing every few seconds at Sasha and Micaela, making sure they hadn't disappeared in a puff of smoke while I looked away.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as we were standing huddled on the sidewalk.
“We hitched a ride with your boyfriend.” Sasha grinned. My eyes widened with shock.
“Cole? Cole is here?”
“Do you have another boyfriend?” She dropped her chin and raised her eyebrows.
“I talked to Cole this morning. He said he was in Harlem opening Christmas presents.”
“He probably was,” Micaela said. “You know it’s only an hour flight from New York to here.”
My head was swimming. I had so many questions. “You flew here?”
“Yes. And I’ve never flown in a private jet before, so your man has spoiled me.” Sasha tossed her braids over her shoulder.
“You flew here in a private plane?”
“Are you gonna repeat everything we say? Because if that’s the case, can we continue this conversation in the restaurant because it’s cold as hell out here and I’m hungry,” Micaela said.
“Restaurant? What restaurant?”
Micaela rolled her eyes, hooked her arm in mine, and pulled me along the sidewalk.
* * *
After a ten-minute walk during which Sasha filled me in on all of the Mama's Lunchbox gossip, including Mike's abrupt career change, which led to her getting promoted to his vacated position, we entered what looked like an upscale diner.
Seated at a large round booth near the back was Cole. Entirely on-brand for the hormonal weepy mess I'd become in the last two weeks, I started crying. Cole stood to greet me and wrapped me in his arms. My body melted into his, and I inhaled his delicious scent before pushing him away so I could wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. After we separated, I frowned and punched him the chest.
“Ow,” he said in a chuckle. “What was that for?” He was rubbing the spot where I hit him, though I doubt I did that much damage.
“You lied to me!”
&nb
sp; "No, I didn't. You asked me where I was, and I told you the truth. I thought you liked my surprises." He leaned over to kiss me as we slid into the booth.
"I do like your surprises," I said quietly and gave him a small smile. This was a wonderful surprise, the best surprise, but I couldn't shake my irritability and was trying so hard not to seem ungrateful. "Where's CJ?"
Cole pointed to the stroller, where CJ was fast asleep. My disappointment reemerged, and I fought back the selfish urge to wake him up so I could hug him. A frustrated sigh escaped my lips, and I felt Cole squeeze my hand under the table.
We ate in mostly silence with Cole eyeing me and shooting furtive, worried glances at Micaela and Sasha.
Cole noticed I was picking at my salad and not eating. I snapped at him, telling him that I was sick of eating salads, which was the truth. Gluten-free, sugar-free and dairy-free options weren't as plentiful everywhere on the tour, and I was usually relegated to eating salads, things that would end up making me sick, or nothing.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.
“What could you have done?”
“I don’t know. Something? You shouldn’t be keeping stuff like this from me.”
“Why won’t you talk to me about the adoption hearing?” I snapped. Cole opened his mouth and closed it. Sasha and Micaela glanced at each other, then at their plates.
"Let's talk about this later. Okay, babe." Cole squeezed my hand again. I looked up at Sasha and Micaela. They gave me sympathetic half-smiles, and I mouthed the word, sorry.
“So the show was amazing,” Sasha said to Cole.
“I don’t doubt it. I’m sorry I had to miss it, but CJ and I had a good time at the children’s museum. Do you want to see some videos?”
I knew looking at videos of CJ would set off another flood of tears, so I shook my head. "Can I look at them later?" I tried to smile at Cole.
Broken and Beautiful Page 147
