by Julie Clark
“What do you mean? What happened?” My voice must be louder than I intend because Bruno looks up in concern and mouths Miles? I shake my head and try to focus on Jackie.
“It’s Aaron,” she says, her voice thick with tears. “There was an accident at work. He was on-site and—” She breaks down again, and I wait for her to continue. “He was up on the roof of a warehouse, looking to see where they could put solar panels. And—” A fresh wave of crying fills my ear.
“What happened?” I can barely bring myself to ask the question.
“He fell through,” she manages to say.
“Oh my god.” I cover my eyes with my hands, thinking of Aaron, broken and bloody on the floor of some old warehouse. It’s impossible. I was just talking to him on the side of a hill less than forty-eight hours ago.
“His partner just called me. He’s coming to take me to the hospital. I don’t know how long we’ll be, so I need you to pick up Nick after school.”
“Of course,” I say. “Whatever you need.”
She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Thanks.”
The line goes silent between us. Finally I say, “Call me as soon as you know anything.”
“I will. Knowing Nick’s covered is a huge help. Please don’t say anything to him.”
“I’ll make something up.” I’m already scrambling for a lie an eight-year-old would believe for why his mother and father are unable to pick him up. Or cook him dinner. Or put him to bed.
“Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Paige.”
We hang up, and I stare down at the students moving through the quad below. I feel Bruno come up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder.
“What happened?” he asks.
I swivel around to face him. “Aaron had an accident at work today.” I can’t bring myself to say more, and I marvel at how Jackie could get any words out at all. Tears prick my eyes, and I swipe them away. “I have to tell you something,” I say, filling him in quickly, on how I discovered Aaron was my donor, and how he was going to tell Jackie. Until this happened. I tell him all of it, only omitting the DNA test I ran in the lab.
“Oh my god, Paige. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
I push away from my desk. “I need to get Nick and Miles.” The thought of staying here, surrounding myself with lab reports and anecdotal data gathered by lab assistants, is stifling.
“No problem,” he says. “Take as much time as you need. I’ll take care of things here.”
“Thanks.” I grab my coat and keys, slinging my purse over my shoulder. “Don’t forget to—” I start to say, but the words escape me. All I can think about is Aaron and the way he laughed at the stories I told him about Miles.
Bruno guides me toward the door. “Go.”
—
Later that night, I sit at Rose’s dining room table, the remnants of a meal surrounding us, while Nick, Miles, and Josh play outside in the deepening twilight. I’d picked the boys up at three, feeding them a line about a last-minute appointment Jackie and Aaron had to attend. Delivering the lie while driving helped conceal the truth. I took them to Rose’s, the tension from our earlier phone call vanishing as soon as I’d told her what happened, knowing she would prop me up as she’s done thousands of times before.
But now it’s nearing eight o’clock, and I don’t know what to do next.
“What if you don’t hear from her?” Rose asks.
“I’ll text her and let her know I’m taking Nick back to my place.”
I’ve already sent her one, giving her Rose’s address and telling her we’d wait for her there, but she didn’t respond. I haven’t heard from her since her first phone call, and I’m terrified of what that means. She’d have called or texted by now if there was good news, and her silence weighs heavily on me.
We sit, nursing glasses of wine, the clock in the hall ticking the minutes away. Finally, I whisper, “What if he doesn’t make it?”
Rose takes a deep breath and reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “Try not to let your mind go there.”
I bury my head in my arms on the table. When I look up, Rose is staring out the window at the boys—the brothers—chasing each other around the yard.
I push my chair back. “I guess I’ll get them home and into bed.”
“You can stay here if you don’t want to be alone.”
“Thanks,” I say. “But I think it’ll be easier if we go home. Nick can sleep on the trundle in Miles’s room.”
“Okay.” Rose rises, following me toward the backyard. “Call me when you hear something. Anything.”
“I will.”
As we make our way down the hall, the doorbell rings. We stare at each other, frozen. Henry comes out of the living room, where he’s been reading, his glasses slipping down his nose, a finger holding the place in his book. “Do you want me to get that?” he asks.
I nod, unable to speak. No one else would be ringing Rose’s doorbell this late at night.
He steps toward the door and peeks through the side glass. “It’s Jackie,” he says, and swings the door open.
She stands there, eyes red-rimmed and trembling.
As if drawn by a magnet, I walk toward her, wrapping her in my arms. She begins to sob on my shoulder, her body heaving and trembling, and I start to cry. She doesn’t have to say anything. I just know.
“He’s gone,” she chokes, then dissolves into heavy sobs as I hold her, tears streaming down my cheeks. The house, Rose, Henry, everything fades away. It’s just the two of us, holding on to each other.
She pulls away, wiping her eyes.
Rose comes up from behind and leads us into the living room, where the boys won’t see us. “Mikey!” she calls up the stairs.
“Yeah?”
“Get the boys out of the backyard, set them up with a movie, and stay in there with them.”
“But I’m doing my homework,” he says.
“Just do it!” she snaps. Mikey appears at the top of the stairs and takes in the scene, his expression shifting from resentment to worry, rushing down to do as he’s told.
Rose slides the paneled doors closed behind us and walks Jackie over to the couch. I sit next to her, taking her hand.
Jackie closes her eyes and takes several deep breaths. “Do you have something to drink?” she asks.
Henry jumps up, returning with a bottle of whiskey and four glasses. He pours Jackie an inch, and she drains her glass.
We sit, eyes on Jackie, waiting for her to begin talking whenever she’s ready. Henry hands me a glass, and I hold it with shaking fingers, afraid to miss anything she might say.
She takes a deep, shuddering breath and begins. “The doctors said his internal injuries were too severe. There was nothing they could do.” Another sob breaks through. “He died around three.” I take her glass from her and envelop her in another hug, swallowing hard. At three, I was in the car with the boys, oblivious.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
She nods and pulls away again. She presses her hands against her eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears. “I called his parents as soon as I heard, and they met me at the hospital. His mother’s a mess.”
“What about you?” I ask. “What can we do for you? I can keep Nick tonight if you want to just . . .” I trail off, unsure what she might want or need.
She shakes her head. “I want to go home. I want Nick at home with me—oh God, what am I going to tell him?” She crumbles again, sobbing into my shoulder.
I hang on to her, letting my own tears fall down my cheeks and into her great mass of hair. Across the room, Rose and Henry grip each other’s hands so tightly I can see the bones through their skin, and I try to wrap my mind around how we could have lost Aaron so soon after finding him.
“I’m here for whatever you need. You know that, right?” I push her away so I can look into her eyes.
She nods, fumbles in her purse for a tissue, and blows her nose. “I’ll tell Nick tonight.
Keep him out of school tomorrow. Maybe for a while. There’s a lot to do.” The words catch in her throat.
“Let me help you. I can make calls. Sit with you. Whatever you need.”
“Thanks.” She closes her eyes for a moment, her lids looking bruised. When she opens them again, she says, “I’m afraid to stop moving. If I do, it will all catch up to me and . . .” She pinches her lips together, fighting back more tears.
“If you need me to take Nick, just say so.”
She nods again and stands, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “Okay.”
We follow her down the hall to the family room. The boys are splayed across the couch watching TV. Jackie walks up to Nick and kneels in front of him. “Time to go, honey.”
Nick takes one look at her face, tearstained and raw from crying, and gets up without argument. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “Where’s Dad?”
“Let’s just get home and we can talk.”
“Okay,” he says hesitantly. He casts a doubtful look over his shoulder as he follows her out of the room.
Later that night, I lie in bed, staring at the faint shadows that flicker and weave across my wall and finally let my thoughts land on how this changes everything. My secret is safe, my friendship with Jackie intact, and I’m washed with equal parts shame and relief.
I close my eyes but sleep doesn’t come. Instead, I see Aaron’s face, his expression ragged as he explained the weight of his fear, and my eyes fly open as I wonder whether Jackie had enough presence of mind to ask for a genetic test on Aaron. I doubt it. And now we’ll never know.
GENETIC ATTRACTION
* * *
Genetic attraction is a trope that shows up every now and then in pop culture—two people drawn to each other for unexplained reasons, only to discover they’re related. Proponents describe it as a phenomenon that happens when the emotional bond between a parent and child or between siblings is disrupted, that when they meet, there’s an actual biological response in their cells.
Genetic attraction is documented in many animals, most notably mice, whose amplified sense of smell allows them to identify their blood relatives simply by scent. However, there’s almost no scientific evidence to support its existence in humans.
We do know our brains are hardwired to help our relatives, to take risks for them that we wouldn’t take otherwise. Blood is thicker than water. Miles and Nick each got half of their DNA from Aaron. They are first-degree blood relatives, biologically programmed to protect each other. The chemistry between them is obvious, but I’m the only one who understands how deep it goes, that it’s not just based on shared interests but a shared biology.
So while most scientists think genetic attraction is a fuzzy science that has no real merit other than anecdotally—I find myself wondering if, for humans, genetic attraction manifests differently. We can’t smell our relatives, but maybe—somehow—we can sense them.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rose and I stand by a window overlooking Jackie’s backyard, while several older women ferry platters of food from the kitchen to the crowd who’ve come to pay their respects to Aaron. One stands out, with a flowing skirt and wild, curly hair that’s almost completely gray. She must be Jackie’s mother. She scurries around, not making eye contact with anyone. I imagine her in an earlier life, bullied by Jackie’s dad, trying not to ruffle anyone or draw attention to herself.
I scan the backyard for Miles and Nick, who disappeared outside somewhere. My eyes catch on a familiar figure, the broad surfer’s shoulders covered in a nice suit. “You didn’t tell me Liam would be here,” I say.
“I didn’t know,” she says.
Liam sits on a bench in a corner with Miles and Nick, his eyes covered by sunglasses, saying something to the boys. Miles laughs, and a tiny smile cracks across Nick’s face. I wish I could hear what he’d said. I haven’t seen Miles laugh since I told him about Aaron, and it makes me feel better to see him smiling again.
Liam reaches an arm across the back of the bench, past Miles, and puts a hand on Nick’s shoulder. And then something extraordinary happens. Miles leans into Liam—just curls himself under Liam’s arm, and the three of them sit like that for at least five minutes. I can’t tear my eyes away from them.
I feel Rose watching me. I turn and offer a weak smile. “It’s nice to see them talking.”
She nods, and when I turn back to the window again, Liam’s gone, and now it’s just Miles and Nick alone on the bench. I scan the yard for him, but he’s disappeared. Rose nudges my shoulder and tilts her head toward the hallway as Liam walks into the living room. He stops in front of Aaron’s parents, Leonard and Beverly, to say something. Then he looks over at Rose and me, still by the window, and raises his hand in a silent farewell before walking out the front door.
I feel the jolt of his departure, like a rumbling beneath my feet. I fight the urge to follow him, reminding myself that he chose this. Rose still watches me. “What?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Nothing.”
In a corner, Aaron’s parents sit surrounded by friends. Beverly looks as if she’s going to crumble at any moment, while Leonard sits, stone-faced, next to her.
“Those poor people,” Rose says. “As if they haven’t endured enough with his diagnosis.” After a moment, she says, “Do you think Aaron’s mom knows something?”
There had been a moment at the church, when the family had exited a small side door into the sanctuary, right next to where we were sitting. Jackie looked glad to see us, touching her hand to her chest as if to say Thank you, but Beverly had been rooted to the spot, staring at Miles. Leonard had to practically drag her up to the front. As she walked toward her son’s casket, she turned her head several times, looking at us over her shoulder, placing us in the crowd.
“I don’t know,” I say now. “There’s definitely a resemblance between Miles and Aaron, but it seems unlikely she’d connect the dots so easily. Aaron said he donated because he needed money and didn’t want to ask his parents, so I doubt it. Miles probably just reminds her of Aaron, in the same way a stranger on the street can make you think of someone you know.” I say this because I need it to be true, not because I believe it. “I think it just spooked her.”
But it’s keeping me from approaching them to offer condolences. I turn away, not wanting to catch Beverly’s attention now.
I’m about to suggest we leave when Jackie emerges from the back of the house. She’s pulled her hair back in a silver clip, and her face looks polished and clean, as if she’s just washed it. She sees us and comes over, hugging first me, then Rose.
“Thanks for coming,” she says.
Rose rubs her arm and says, “How are you doing?”
“Actually, I’m doing okay. It’s a relief to have the service over.”
I flash back to the casket, cold and dark at the center of the altar, and I understand.
“What can we do to help?” I ask.
Jackie looks around the room, at the groups of people. “Nothing, really. I don’t even know most of these people. They’re friends of Aaron’s from growing up or college. Or Beverly and Leonard’s friends.” She gives a strangled laugh. “In all the years we were together, I guess I never really made my own friends. I was just happy to be with Aaron. But now—” She presses her lips together. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I reach into my purse and pull out a cylinder, wrapped with a gold string, and hand it to Jackie. “This is for you.”
She looks confused. “A certificate?”
“There’s a national registry of stars. You can pay to have one of them named after a loved one. So . . . I had one named after Aaron.”
Next to me, Rose breathes, “Oh, Paige. That’s lovely.”
Jackie unfurls the certificate, and I explain it to her. “I got one in the Orion constellation. The hunter. It’s not one of the bigger stars, obviously. But you can definitely find it with a telescope. Maybe, when things settle down, we can
go. You, me, and the boys. It’ll be visible every year, November through February.”
Jackie scans the certificate and the map, tears pooling in her eyes. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispers. “This is incredible. Thank you.”
I reach out and pull her into a tight hug, wishing I could do more. Wishing I didn’t have so much to hide. “You’re welcome,” I say.
Jackie pulls away and glances over to the corner where Aaron’s parents sit. “I’d better go check in with them. They aren’t doing very well.”
“Of course,” Rose says.
She rolls up the certificate and reties it, slipping it onto the mantel behind a vase. Then she approaches Beverly and Leonard, their faces tilting up toward her, as if they hope she’ll tell them something that will change this awful reality in which they’ve found themselves. Beverly reaches up to take Jackie’s hand, and Jackie squats down in front of her, gripping both of her hands, and says something that causes Beverly to break into silent tears and Leonard to look even more stoic. My eyes travel to his hands, which are restless in his lap.
“Let’s go out back,” I suggest to Rose.
Outside feels more like a party. Kids run around in their church clothes, laughing, and I find Miles and Nick in the center of a small knot of boys. I wander over to an empty table and sit. Rose slides in next to me.
“What an incredible gesture,” she says. “How did you think of it?”
I shrug. “One of the guys in the astronomy department told me about it.”
“How are you doing?” she asks.
“Okay, I guess. It’s not really my tragedy, you know?”
“I suppose. Except you’ve lost something significant. So has Miles. It’s okay to let yourself feel that.”
Tears well up and threaten to fall, so I tip my sunglasses down over my eyes. “Thanks.”
