by Julie Reece
Sydney paces to the point she may wear a hole in the floor. She moves like a caged lion, more like the old me than I am. Dad informed us last night that if we wanted to meet with our mother, we would do it alone. Of course, I always think he’s being defensive, but it’s more than that this time. He seems hurt. Like our choice to see her is a slight to him. A betrayal.
That isn’t true. Wanting closure as to why our mother left is a completely separate issue from recognition of the sacrifices our father made in staying. But he could never hear that from me. Maybe Syd will explain it someday.
The sound of a car engine in the driveway assures me, good or bad, this will be over soon. Butterflies riot in my empty stomach and I plunk down on the sofa. Syd glances at me. Her fingers knotted against her waist. My gaze locks with hers, and I attempt a silent message: no matter what happens, we have each other.
The bell rings and we answer together. “Come in.” The front door closes with a snick. A confident click of heels on the hardwood floor. Down the hall to the living room, and there she is, our mother. Lara Cabal Teslow in all her glory.
“Hello, girls.”
“Hi.” Sydney says, giving me a sharp look until I’m on my feet.
No more than five two, the woman before us appears an older version of me. Same hair, eyes, body type, she has to be mid-forties, but no one would guess. The cream blouse she wears compliments her sundrenched skin, so does the dark blue, pencil skirt falling just above her knees. Memories rise faster than high tide. Snuggling a younger version of this woman on the sofa for movie night, painting pictures together before painting our toenails, baking cookies … it’s all here, and a lifetime away.
“Please sit down,” I say, as my sister seems incapable of speech. Sydney joins me on the sofa. She grips my hand in both of hers, threatening my blood flow with extreme pressure. I’ve never seen her so unglued. “Can I get you anything to drink,” I ask the attractive woman who is my mother. “Coffee, water?”
She installs herself across from us in Dad’s wingback chair, placing her black patent clutch on her lap. Blisteringly white teeth appear, and I know where Sydney gets her smile.
“How nice, no. Thank you.”
Not surprisingly, our meeting starts as stiff as a bank loan interview. “I suppose I should begin,” she says. Her English is good. Accent thick and romantic. I suppress the wish I’d grown up hearing it. “Last week, I telephoned your father to arrange formal divorce papers.”
“You’re not divorced?” Syd blurts. “Don’t you pay child support?”
I cringe, but our mother doesn’t flinch. “That is true. A verbal agreement that stops on your eighteenth birthday next month.”
Is she counting down? X-ing off the days to financial freedom on her calendar? Sydney’s bluntness seems less awkward, now.
“I’m here to sign papers officially, because I wish to remarry.”
Yee-ha. Congratulations. I’m more confused than ever why she’s willing to see us when she’s clearly moved on, and we haven’t heard a peep in years. Never a birthday card from the woman, no Christmas note, not even a “Hey, nice to know you’re not dead” letter.
“Why offer to see us?” I ask, emboldened. I mean if we’re here to get answers, then let’s get them.
“This was your father’s idea.”
Oh, snap.
“My mother died recently.” A hand flutters in her lap. The first sign of nerves I’ve seen.
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Sydney offers.
“Yes. We weren’t close, but much went unsaid between us. I suppose I’ve come so that … to clear up any … ” As the silence stretches, her gaze bounces between Syd and me. She rises to her feet. “I think maybe this was a mistake.”
“Wait.” I panic, fearing she’ll leave and take our answers with her. My hands pat the air. “Please, if you’re willing, I’d like to talk.”
She nods, resuming her seat.
All I can think about is Mr. Behr and the sons who’ll never see him again. If Caden could ask his father one question, what would it be? Sure, our circumstances are different, but it seems a slap to throw away my chance when he’ll never get his.
“Can you tell us what happened to you? Why you left?”
Instead of answering, she says, “May I have a drink of water?”
Sydney’s walk seems a bit unsteady as she disappears into the kitchen. Mom and I sit in silence. Two minutes feel like ten until Syd’s return. Our mother sips her water as my sister squashes into place beside me.
“I will tell you the story.” As she glances around the room, I wonder how much she remembers. The window curtains she sewed when I was seven are still here, so is the porcelain lamp she glued back together after I’d thrown a ball and broken it. “Though, I think you may be sorry later.
“Your father and I met at the university. I liked to travel, and came on a student visa to study art. I dated a few boys, nothing serious, but when I got pregnant, William was the only one to propose. We hardly knew each other, but your father was mature for his age and had a teaching job lined up after graduation. My family is Catholic, not devout perhaps, but my parents would have disowned me. I wasn’t ready to be a mother, but I don’t believe in abortion. Marriage seemed my only option.”
My only option? While I’m not unsympathetic to her situation, she sounds so selfish. Did Dad know about the other guys? Or did she trick him into marriage when our real father bailed? At the same time, the fact that she didn’t abort us is anything but selfish. Strange to find that as angry as I’ve been, I very much want my life. A life I owe to her.
Sydney scrapes at her nail polish. I drag her hand away, and hold it firmly in mine.
“There were complications during labor, and the doctors ran some tests. One showed that though my babies were born at the same time, they were not the same age. You are younger, Autumn, by several weeks. We asked how that was possible and they explained that you are bi-paternal twins. I am your mother, but you girls have two different fathers.”
“What?” Sydney rips her hand away. “Are you telling us our dad is not our dad?”
Mom’s fingers visibly shake as she lifts her glass once more to her lips. She was right. I’m glad to have the truth, but it doesn’t stop the hole widening in my stomach.
“No, William Teslow is your biological father, Sydney.”
As Mom’s gaze searches me out, I know. “But not mine.” She confirms my statement with a single nod. I’ve never heard of such a thing. Was she lying, too, or just insane? “How can that even be?”
She shrugs, setting her glass on the end table. “The doctor said it’s very rare. A woman producing multiple eggs while sleeping with more than one man can result in bi-paternal twins.” Every word out of her mouth sounds flat, clinical. She shows as much emotion as an automated program reciting for a biology report. “Months had passed since I left the university, and … William accepted it.”
Did he? I’m doing my best not to judge, but just how many guys did she sleep with? “So, you never tried to find my father?” I ask, needing confirmation.
“I was a married woman.” She emphasizes the word married as though it’s self-explanatory or maybe I’m just not very bright. Heartbeats thud low and muffled in my ears. My mother clutches her purse and stands. “Again, I thought I was doing the right thing in coming here today, but … perhaps not.”
When she steps toward the hall, I freeze, unsure if I want her to stay or go.
“Please, one more question. I want to know why you left us.” Sydney’s eyes are round, pleading. She still hasn’t heard what she needs to let our mother go, and now I understand that she won’t.
This woman came here today for herself, not for us. One quick explanation won’t erase the hurts of a lifetime. How could I think they would? I’m holding her to a standard that I built for her. Our mother is more honest than I am, right now. She’s just being who she is. Who she’s always been. In the beginning, she may have
tried. I think she did. But by the end, the plain truth is she simply didn’t want a family.
I turn to my sister. The trail of steady tears down her pale cheeks mirrors my pain and confusion, ripping a new hole in my chest.
Mother faces us, dislodging a soft curl from behind her shoulder. “I must go or I’ll miss my plane. I’ve done what I came to do, only … ” A crease forms between her eyebrows. “You will not understand, of course. To be very young, and so bored, and trapped. I wanted happiness for myself. I wish you girls to get the same chance.”
She doesn’t apologize, or bother to say goodbye. Never once tried to touch us or ask anything about our lives. Not all people are good. They aren’t what you imagine in your head, always strong or honest or wise. They won’t always fight for a cause, be faithful or to do the right thing. Real people are messy, and reckless, and real.
The front door closes softly and our mother ghosts from our lives once again.
Next to me, Sydney shudders. Every heartbeat seems so loud. My blood gels, cold and slushy in my veins. Why do I feel this horrible sense of loss? I don’t know that woman.
The mother I thought I knew all those years ago is gone. Instead, I’m grieving an invention. A myth. I told Caden I imagined a mother who wanted to write me, but all her letters were lost. She might have been someone who suffered some bizarre, unavoidable tragedy that prevented her from coming home. An artist who got amnesia and forgot she loved us.
She was a dream.
“You’re my sister,” Sydney says, her voice small but steady.
Half-sister. I am no part of my father. Not biologically, anyway. A person can’t be raised for seventeen years by someone and not be affected. He and Syd are so much alike. That has always made sense. What’s clear now is why I’m different. All my life, I’ve been forcing a round peg into a square hole. Struggling to understand why I didn’t fit in with this family. And now I know. I’m the daughter of a man who slept with the woman Dad married and lost. I’m a constant reminder. I also know that despite Dad’s militant views on parenting, he didn’t ditch me. I’m not his. He could have pawned me off, but he didn’t.
Does he love me, resent me, hate me? Does he offer me a chance for college out of the same duty that made him keep me, even after my mother abandoned her daughter? It’s too confusing to contemplate, now. My head pounds. All I want is to curl in a ball and sleep.
“Did you hear me?” Syd asks. “I said, you’re still my sister.”
I lean against her, my head on her shoulder, her head rests over mine. “I know.” A breath leaks out inch by inch. “There’s more than blood that makes us sisters.” I believe that. “It’s not a gene pool, geography, upbringing, or even loyalty.”
“What do you think it is … this tie between us? It’s pretty weird.”
“You’re pretty weird.” I feel her cheek bunch as she smiles against my hair.
“No seriously. What?”
I don’t have to consider my answer. I’ve known the truth all along.
“Unconditional love.”
30
Autumn
The doorbell rings. Pushing against a pillow, I raise up on both elbows. Sydney’s arm and leg are sprawled across my body, weighting me down. Neither of us felt like being alone last night, but sleeping next to my squirmy sister has its challenges. Rain beats the roof so loudly, I’m not sure I heard anything at all until another round of chimes go off.
Sydney groans as I extract my leg from her pretzel hold. “What time is it?”
I shift, squinting at the blue letters on her alarm clock. “Ten after seven.” Dad left for work a half hour ago. My head hangs forward and I wait, hoping any deliveryman will leave their package. Then I remember water could damage something important. Craptastic.
A third bell has me stumbling down the hall. My hair is everywhere and my eyes feel golf-ball-sized puffy from stress. I didn’t think about my shorty-shorts and a tank for door answering, but it’s too late now.
Ding. “Keep your pants on, I’m coming!”
I wrench the door wide, expecting to sign a clipboard, or tell a pesky sales person to bugger off. Instead, a half-drowned Caden stands on my front stoop with Gus grinning at his side. They stare. I stare. Seconds pass. Finally, I close my mouth.
“Autumn … ” Caden starts, but I hold up a finger stopping him. It’s too early for this drama.
Leaning forward, I snatch Gus’s leash from his owner’s waterlogged hand. The dog bounds inside like a champ, and I shut the door in my guest’s shocked face, locking it afterward.
“Autumn?” There’s pounding on the door followed by a long pause. “This isn’t funny. Let me in.” He bangs again. “I drove all night to talk to you.”
“I have a phone.”
“The one you aren’t answering?”
This is insane. I’m sure he’s here to see if I’m coming back. He’s got a bet to win, or maybe a conscious to clear, but Gus won’t pay for it by drowning with him. The dog drips water all over my father’s oriental rug. That won’t win the mutt points with Daddy-o if he and his owner are, in fact, staying a while. I disappear down the hall and return with an armload of fluffy towels.
“You know it’s pouring out here, right?” I hear against the door.
“That’s a shame. Maybe Piper can hold your umbrella while you kiss her again.” My words make me small and petty, and a sore loser. I wish I’d shut up.
“What are you talking about?” The handle rattles. “You’re being ridiculous.”
I kneel, rubbing Gus’s ears dry with a towel. “I’m not ridiculous, am I, Guster? And you’re not a player like your low-life master, are you, buddy?”
“I can hear you, Aud.”
“Not a liar, or a boy who strings two girls along at once … ”
“I didn’t—” He sneezes. There’s a thud on the other side of the door that I fear is his forehead hitting wood. “You’re killing me, Cricket.”
My heart gives, and do what I wouldn’t for Alex. I reach over, unlock the door, and let him in.
My gaze travels up, even though I don’t want to see how his rain-soaked T-shirt clings to his skin. Or how his chest rises and falls in hurried breaths. He watches me through wet lashes that fuse and spike into dark spires until I feel my face warming.
“Can you guys wait here a minute?” I rise, tossing a couple of towels his direction, before heading down the hall to Sydney’s bedroom.
“Caden is here in our living room.” I make this stunning announcement to the blond head stuffed face-down in her sheets. “I can’t breathe. What am I going to do? I can’t imagine what he’s doing here.”
Sydney lifts her head and glares. “Why didn’t you take the time to ask him?”
I motion to my scant clothing and scary hair. “Seriously?”
“Hm, point taken.”
Fifteen minutes later, I have all the important parts of my body washed, brushed, and covered in more appropriate attire. I rush into the living room, trying to calm my expression and slow my erratic pulse.
Towel draped in one hand, Caden leans on a doorframe opposite me in a sexy, intimidating, heart-stopping way. His hair is slicked back, T-shirt gone—who knows where. His long legs, still clad in low-slung jeans, are dark with rain. Have mercy!
Coherent words evaporate leaving me mute.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I know it’s too early. I was just so anxious to get here … Is your father around?”
“My dad left for work. Sydney’s asleep.”
“Can we talk somewhere?”
“I think so. Follow me.”
While my guests tail me to the Bermuda Triangle, I sift through possible reasons my boss drove all this way to see me: I’m fired, my dad told Caden I’m quitting and he’s here to talk me out of it, he still cares about me …
Gus flops on the braided rug at the foot of my bed, and rests his head on his paws like he owns the place. Caden, on the other hand, gawks at the walls and ceiling
.
“Wow.” He stares like it’s the Sistine Chapel, and he couldn’t have said anything nicer. “My being here in your room, it feels so surreal.”
You too, huh?
“Because I’ve been thinking about this. You. And I couldn’t stay away. I was going crazy over what might be happening here with your mom. You wouldn’t answer your texts. When Dex suggested that I do what I wanted to all along, the next thing I know I’m in my car headed south.”
I hug my waist to keep from blowing apart. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Don’t you?” When his gaze intensifies, I study the carpet. “Don’t hide from me, Autumn. Get mad. Throw something. Swear at me!”
“I’m not that girl anymore, but I can work up to it if you really miss her.”
“I know exactly who you are. Just tell me if it’s okay that I’m here.”
“Does it matter?”
Eyes glinting like I threw down a challenge, his lips tug up on one side. “Yes, it absolutely does.” He steps to my unmade bed and sits, apparently unconcerned that his jeans are wet. His hand glides over my pillow, the gesture so incredibly intimate, my pulse kicks up another notch. Or ten.
He kicks his soggy boots off and ditches his socks before stretching out against my headboard.
“No, really. Make yourself at home.”
“I will, thanks, though I’d feel better if you formally invite me to stay or go. For the record.”
My stomach pings with nervous energy. “You can stay.”
“Good, I was hoping you’d pick that one. Now, come over here and sit with me.”
“Okay, that sounded creepy. You got some candy for me, too, mister?”
“Shut up. I’m trying to be cool and sexy and you’re ruining it.” He’s laughing now and so am I. “Don’t tell Dex a Behr brother failed at seduction, okay?”
Is that what this is about? Is he still trying to win? “Never.”
His smile fades into something more serious. “I was worried about you. I knew you were meeting with your mom. Do you want to talk about what happened?”
