VIII: Liar
Adam
Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck.
How did I let that happen? I’ve always known I was a dick, but a sicko? A legitimately disgusting human being? I’d never thought that’s who I was before now.
Prying myself from her touch, I jump off the bed to yank on my shorts. How did I screw this up so epically? The moment I felt her mouth, I lost all my resolve, but why the hell do I want her in the first place? What am I supposed to do now? Kick her out? Send her back to Mom and Dad’s? How would we even explain that?
“Adam?”
Isabela calls after me as I storm to the kitchen and pour myself a double shot. My gaze lands on the photo of Amaya still sitting on the counter before I down my drink. Isabela walks into the kitchen in her underwear and a tank. Even now, after I’ve destroyed everything, I’m still admiring her body.
Resting her hands on her hips, she frowns. “Do you drink constantly?”
How is she so calm about this? “Oh, I’m just fucking getting started.”
I pour another shot and drink it as she sighs, walking toward me. She rests her hand on my arm, and I try not to flinch at the burn of her touch, reminding me that I’ve ruined both of our lives because she makes my dick hard. “Look, we might have made a mistake, I’ll admit that.”
“Might have? We definitely fucking did.”
She ignores me and continues trying to comfort me. Shouldn’t it be me comforting her? “Adam, I wanted it, okay? It’s not like you raped me, and we won’t ever do it again. We’ll keep it between us and forget about it.” She waves her hand, trying so hard to be nonchalant. “So you dicked down your sister… It’s not like you killed anyone.” With a shrug, she adds, “Perspective.”
Fury at my mistake and exhaustion from years of lies pour from my lips as I grab her arms, screaming at her, “You’re not my goddamn sister!”
I push her away, and she shakes her head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Grabbing Amaya’s picture off the counter, I shove it at her chest. “This isn’t just a friend from school. She’s your mom.” Her eyes widen as she takes a step back, eyes flipping to the photo. “I got her pregnant when we were thirteen.”
The anger I’ve been waiting for overtakes her face. Her voice sounds like I’ve never heard it before when she asks, “What the fuck are you saying, Adam?”
“Mom and Dad are your grandparents. They adopted you. You were never supposed to know…” As much as I want to hold her, tell her I’m sorry, she looks like she’d sooner stab me than hug me.
“Say it,” she grates out. “I want to hear you say the words. Who are you to me?”
My shoulders fall, and I slump against the counter. This is so hard to say. I hold my face in my hands because I can’t bear to look at her. “I’m your biological father.”
Tears drip down her cheeks as she shakes her head. “I don’t believe you.” Suddenly she lurches at me, shoving my chest. “You lied to me my entire life! All of you!” I don’t know what to do. How to make this better. She sobs while she rips her hands through her hair. “Please tell me this is a really horrible joke.”
I reach out to her, silently pleading that she’ll let me hold her. “I’m so sorry.”
The moment my hand lands on her arm, she spins away from me. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Her eyes travel down my body in repulsion. “I don’t even know who the fuck you are.”
She stomps out of the kitchen, and a few minutes later, the front door slams. I release a huge breath that feels like I’ve been holding for nineteen years.
Amaya’s photo stares up at me. I wonder if she’s ever thought about us. Mom and Dad basically paid her parents for her not to have an abortion. She probably still hates me. When she was pregnant, I cheated on her with a girl in the ninth grade. I knew she was in love with me, and we’d taken each other’s virginity, but she had this whole life planned out. She talked about me getting a job and raising Isabela together. As an eighth grader, that freaked me the hell out. During my fourteenth birthday party, she caught Kirsty Jenner giving me head in the party room at Laser Games. She refused to speak to me after that and wouldn’t even let me in the delivery room when Isabela was born. We haven’t seen each other since.
I bring the photo to Isabela’s room, putting it on the nightstand. She has to come back eventually. I need to fix this…somehow.
* * *
Since Isabela is all I can think about, I put it to good use by working on the new Zombie Princess comic. It’s perfect, really. About four issues ago, Zibby’s brother, Prince Alek, accidently killed the human boy Zibby’s in love with, and of course, ate his brain. In this issue, I think she should find out. As I try to mimic the way Isabela looked at me earlier and translate it to Zibby’s face, my cell goes off. I don’t even have to check to know who it is because her ringtone is a recording of her saying, Adam, it’s your mother, over and over.
I answer, putting it on speaker so I can continue working. “Hey Mom, what’s up?”
“Is Isabela there? Every time I call her, I get sent straight to voicemail,” she shrieks in my ear.
Shit. They’re going to find out she knows sooner or later. “I told her, Mom…she’s furious at all of us.”
Her voice drops about five octaves. “You told her what?”
“She found Amaya’s picture, and… I ended up blurting it out.” Not a complete lie.
“Adam Jacob Hinkley! Why on earth would you do that?! Wait until your father finds out. The very second Isabela walks in that door, you have her call me. Am I clear?”
“Yeah, I’ll tell her.”
“I love you,” she bites out before hanging up on me.
I love my mother unconditionally, but God, she can be a passive aggressive bitch. I spend a few hours adding shading and finishing the rest of the dialogue before my phone rings with Isabela’s ringtone. My heart pounds hard against my chest as I answer.
“Bella Boop.” I breathe out heavily
“It’s not Bells.” The voice is panicked and familiar, taking me a minute to realize it’s her friend.
I’m a little thrown and worried as to why she’s calling me from Isabela’s phone. “Jessie? What’s up?”
Loud music blares in the background, making me strain to hear her, which doesn’t help when she’s speaking a mile a minute. “She’s been freaking out all night. As soon as we got here, she went crazy taking shots. Now she’s passed out in the bathroom, and I can’t get her to wake up. I don’t know what to do.”
Jumping up from my stool, I sprint into the hall, barely remembering to lock my apartment. “Is she breathing?”
“I-I think so…”
“You think so? Where the hell are you?”
“A house in Coral Gables,” she slurs.
“An address, Jessie, I need a fucking address.” Drunk girls are the absolute worst. “And call an ambulance.”
“Okay, hold on.” I cringe at the he sounds of chug, chug, chug! chanting in the background until finally, she reads me the numbers and street name.
“I’m on my way. If the ambulance gets there before I do, call me.”
“You know she’s like this because of you, right? How could you have lied to her about that?”
I’m not having this discussion with her. Hanging up, I climb into my car. She’s right, though. For more than half of my life, I’ve had to push back my parental wishes and just be Isabela’s sibling. There was so much shit that my parents put her through that I didn’t want for her. I was never able to be her dad and honestly, I became accustomed to my brotherly role. Most of the time, I don’t see her as my child. I’m sure I feel differently about her than the average brother feels about his sister or fathers feel about their daughters. It’s just a weird limbo.
One thing that’s been consistent, though, is the need to protect her. Something terrible happening to her is what I’ve constantly feared since the day she was born, yet it’s never been a real risk
until tonight.
The ambulance lights flash in front of me as I turn onto the street of the address Jessie gave me. The home is a two-story townhouse overflowing with Gen Z idiots. I’m barely out of my car before seeing the EMTs pushing Isabela away from the house on a gurney. My entire body turns cold. It feels like my soul is clawing its way out of my chest when I see her unmoving form.
I scream her name as one of the med techs stops me. “You need to get back.”
“She’s my sister!”
“We’re taking her to Dade Memorial. Do you know where that is?” He speaks so calmly while Isabela lies unconscious behind him.
I can’t respond with words, so I nod, watching as he returns to help the other medics secure her in the back of the ambulance.
Jessie is talking to a police officer when I find her. “I told you, I have no idea who bought the alcohol.”
The policeman looks at me with a stern look, asking, “And you are?”
“My sister’s being taken to the hospital. Is there anything more you need from Jessie?”
He grunts, shaking his head before walking away. I turn to Jessie as I try to rein in my anger. This isn’t exactly her fault, however, she was with her when it happened.
“How the hell could you let her drink so much?”
Her eyebrows raise, and she crosses her arms. “Because I’m not her parent…which is more than I can say for you.” I narrow my eyes, and she adds, “Besides, you try stopping her when she’s on a mission to get shit-faced.” Her voice softens as she turns to where the ambulance was moments ago. “Is she going to be okay?”
Inhaling deeply, I lead her to my car. “She has to be.”
I wait until Jessie climbs into the passenger side before I peel out onto the street. Isabela said that us sleeping together would stay between us, although that was before she got wasted.
“What did she tell you, anyway?”
Jessie scoffs. “That you’re liar McLying face.”
I give her a sarcastic smile. “Mature.” At least I’m pretty sure that means Isabela kept our other secret.
“Come on, man. You have to admit that’s fucked up. Why didn’t you just tell her?”
Huffing, I turn from the neighborhood onto the main street. “You can’t even begin to understand the situation.”
“Okay, boomer,” she mocks.
“That’s not even accurate. I’m like twenty years away from being a b— you know what? How about we stop talking so I can think?”
She fiddles with the radio and thankfully doesn’t speak again until we reach the hospital.
I know for a fact that I’m Isabela’s emergency contact, so at least Mom and Dad won’t ever have to know about this. I can hear my mother now: Less than forty-eight hours in your care, and she ends up in the hospital?!
Jessie’s right behind me as I rush up to the front desk in the ER where the receptionist passively tells us to take a seat. After what seems like hours, a doctor finally makes her way to us.
“Hello, Adam Hinkley?”
Jessie and I stand to meet her. “Yes, hi. Is Isabela alright?”
Her nod makes my knees feel like jelly. “We were able to pump a lot of the alcohol from her stomach, and she’s getting fluids now. She’ll probably feel pretty rough for a day or two, but she’ll be fine. I’d like to monitor her for a few hours, then if she does well, you can take her home.”
Wiping my hands over my face, I ask, “Can we see her?”
She nods, asking a nurse to lead us to Isabela’s cubicle. The second I pull back the curtain, my vision blurs with tears. I’ve never seen her hooked up to tubes like this before. I didn’t realize how fortunate I’ve been that I haven’t had to truly fear for her safety before now. She’s asleep, and the slow up and down movement of her chest is the most comforting sight I’ve ever seen.
I sit next to Jessie in silence, and soon, she’s snoring in the chair next to me. While I’m grateful that she cares so much about Isabela and most likely saved her life, she really should be asleep in her bed. I’m sure she has classes tomorrow. I call an Uber, nudging her awake when it arrives.
“You need to go get some sleep. I promise I’ll have Isabela call you when she’s feeling better.”
She glances toward the bed, standing on wobbly feet. “O-okay. As soon as she can. Promise?”
I agree before walking her outside to the Uber. After getting a coffee, I return to Isabela, sitting next to her bed and holding her hand as I wait for her to wake up.
IX: Narwhal Dome
Isabela
Beep. Beep.
I hear myself groaning, but the only thing I can focus on is that my stomach feels like it shriveled up and died.
“Isabela? Are you awake?”
Adam. He’s here.
After he told me my entire life was a sham, I texted Chad for the address of the party and picked up Jessie. All I remember are the shots.
I don’t want to open my eyes. I can’t look at him yet. My mind still refuses to wrap around the fact that he’s my…oh, God, I can’t even think it.
My throat feels like sandpaper. When I try to say, “Yes,” all that comes out is a mumbled mess.
His lips press against my forehead. “You scared the shit out of me last night.”
Finally, I push open my eyes to find the room dark besides the light from the bedside lamp.
He hugs me tight, and my whole body screams in pain, making me yelp. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m just so happy you’re okay.”
“Water,” I croak.
He fills up a plastic cup as a nurse walks into the room. “Oh, good, you’re up. Dr. Franks said you’re free to go once we get all the paperwork in order.” The nurse checks my vitals, saying they’re where they should be before leaving me and Adam alone to get ready for checkout. I can barely look at him, and all I want to do is sleep. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this shitty in my life.
My eyes are barely staying open when one of the nurses brings in a wheelchair, pushing me out to Adam’s car. There’s not a single thing I can think of to say to him. Besides, my throat hurts too much to speak, so I’m grateful for the quiet car ride.
Sleep must have consumed me because when I wake up again, I’m in Adam’s arms and he’s unlocking his apartment door. In some ways, I feel like I should recoil from his touch while simultaneously wanting to lean into it. He carries me to my room, laying me in my bed as he kisses my cheek and whispers, “I love you more than anything. I’m so sorry.”
* * *
Sunlight burns my eyelids, and I moan, rolling onto my stomach. Reaching out for my phone, my fingers wrap around a slick paper. I crack my eyes open to see the girl who’s supposedly my mother. If what Adam said was true, then she abandoned me as soon as I was out of her body. I toss the photo on the nightstand and pick up my phone. It’s one o’clock in the afternoon…on Tuesday?! That means I’ve been out of it for over twenty-four hours.
After struggling through a shower and getting dressed, I finally work up the courage to face my broth— Dad. Fuck, that’s weird.
As I walk into the living room, his face brightens. Even knowing who he is to me, it’s hard to see anyone besides my brother.
“You’re up! How are you feeling?” I hate how uncomfortable this is. “Are you hungry? We can stop and eat before your surprise.”
Even though I’m famished, I’m way too freaked out to eat. “What surprise? I’m really not in the mood, Dad.”
He bristles, biting out, “We’re gonna see the narwhals.”
I scoff. If it were possible to simply ‘see narwhals’ I would have done that ages ago. “It’s a nice thought, but narwhals can’t be kept in captivity, so…”
“Trust me.”
I laugh at his audacity. “Trust you? That’s cute.”
He points toward the apartment door. “Just go to the fucking car.”
I roll my eyes while walking down to the parking garage, groaning at the sun shining so ridiculously brig
ht.
We go to a drive-thru for burgers, eating in awkward silence until he pulls up to the aquarium. I know for a fact there’s no way any actual narwhals here, yet I humor him as he buys our tickets.
Once we’re inside, I see the poster on the wall. Unicorns of the Sea is showing in the dome theater. My chest tightens as I follow him to the seats located in the direct center of the dome.
As much as I’m trying to see him as the person he says he is, it’s impossible to look at him like a father, and after what happened between us, I don’t ever want to.
He clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “How are you feeling?”
Other than a bit of a headache, physically I’m okay. Emotionally, however… “Pretty fucking pissed.”
He glares at me, deepening his voice. “Do you remember what happened at the party?”
“I remember trying to drink away the fact that I’ve been lied to my whole life and that I fucked my father,” I snap quietly enough for only him to hear.
He reaches down and squeezes my thigh, leaning forward with blazing eyes. “I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be, however, getting so trashed that you’re no longer safe is unacceptable.” I try to push away his hand, and he responds by digging his fingers deeper into my leg. “Something could have happened.” The way he’s looking at me puts a crack in my rage. He’s more than angry. He’s scared. “Please, Isabela. Promise me you’ll be more careful.”
The lights darken, and he looks so close to breaking down, that I nod to appease him. “Fine, I promise.”
He releases my leg as the room becomes an underwater simulation. It’s insane how real it looks. A narwhal swims belly up over my head to meet a large pod to my right. They are huge creatures; the tusk alone can get up to ten feet long on some males. The narrator rattles off facts that I already know in a soothing voice. They really are mystical; there’s so little we’ve actually learned about them. I cover my mouth when two males cross their tusks right in front of me. It looks like I could touch them.
Another Family Affair Page 29
