Look Twice

by M. Garzon

  “I miss Jazzy so much,” she moaned. She dropped onto the bed on her stomach, and I sat next to her with my feet tucked under me.

  Teri nodded. “It sucks not to be able to ride much.” She paused, eyes downcast. “I’m going to have to sell Picasso.”

  There was silence for a moment.

  “I’m sorry, Ter,” I said softly.

  She looked up with tears on her lashes. “I have no choice. My parents are struggling as it is, even with me working and getting student loans. And I can’t even show him anymore.”

  We understood because many show ponies shared the same fate. Although Teri was tiny and still fit her large pony, once past the age of eighteen she could no longer compete with him in the Hunter divisions.

  “Hey, why don’t you start riding Jasmine?” Julia suggested. “She’s not getting worked enough, and that way you’ll still have a horse to ride after Picasso’s gone.”

  “Really?” Teri looked marginally happier.

  “Of course! What’s mine is yours.” Julia smiled at Teri before turning her attention to me. “So, are you finally going to tell us what Jaden’s like in bed?”

  I groaned, feeling my face grow warm. “Please, let’s not even touch this subject — remember who you’re dating.”

  “Oh yeah,” Julia said thoughtfully. “That does make it less fun, doesn’t it.”

  And with that, we went to bed.

  The next day was Sunday so Julia and Teri came to the barn.

  “Jaden couldn’t make it?” Teri asked.

  “No, he has too many projects due,” I told her. “I guess even the brilliant have to work at it sometimes.”

  “As opposed to those of us who always work and still sink,” Seth said morosely.

  “Sweetie, you just need to stop fooling around,” Julia entreated. “It’s not like you can’t do this. I mean, you got decent grades in high school.”

  “Yeah, ’cause you can imagine how well Dec handles a bad report card. I’m not stupid.”

  “Of course you’re not, but the stakes are higher now. You don’t want to end up mucking stalls for a living.”

  Seth met her gaze evenly. “What if I did?”

  “Come on, you’re better than that.” Julia laughed her enchanting laugh, and he wrapped his arms around her.

  “I’m glad you think so.” He grinned.

  * * *

  I tried to focus on school, but the possibility of meeting my biological father was a constant distraction. The thought was clearly still on Dec’s mind also; he was remote, cloaked in a constant aura of disapproval.

  Whether we wanted to or not, we were all forced to interact in the barn. One crisp early winter afternoon I had Hades on the crossties, and from my vantage point was able to see Seth walk determinedly over to where Dec was chatting with Lisa. Seth barely glanced at Lisa but addressed Dec directly, interrupting their conversation.

  “Did you get the part for the conveyor?”

  Lisa smiled at Seth indulgently, but Dec’s face could only be described as incredulous. As far as he was concerned, if we were rude it made him look bad, and we’d learned the hard way never to do it. His eyes narrowed as they fixed on Seth’s face.

  Seth went on blithely, pretending not to notice. “I can fix it now if you have the part.”

  My heart sank. Seth was needling Dec, defying him because he was angry, a strategy I was quite sure would backfire on us in a big way.

  Sure enough, Dec charged into the house that evening like an angry bull. “I want to talk to you,” he snapped at Seth.

  I peeked from the kitchen as Seth turned off the TV and unfolded his long body from the couch, moving deliberately slowly. I could see the red stain of anger creeping up Dec’s neck and my pulse spiked accordingly. I moved to the doorway.

  “What’s going on with you?” Dec demanded.

  Seth eyed him speculatively. “Does it matter? You’re judge and jury on everything anyway, so why don’t you just pronounce my sentence and we’ll all move on.”

  Dec considered him silently for a moment, while I edged closer to Seth.

  “Is that what all this is about?” Dec asked finally. “You think your ‘real’ father would have been better than me? That he would never have laid a hand on you, just, what... given you money and let you do whatever you wanted? That he wouldn’t have tried to shape you into decent, hardworking people? Or pushed you to get a good education and make something of yourselves?”

  Dec stared at us, his eyes glowing. I thought I’d never seen blue look so hot until Seth shrugged carelessly. The light in Dec’s eyes dimmed.

  “Well,” he said quietly. “Maybe it’s true. Maybe he would have been a great father — only he wasn’t. He wasn’t a father to you at all.”

  I swallowed. “You’re right.” My eyes cut quickly to Seth. “And we’re not expecting him to be one now. We’re just curious, Dec.” I was staring at his feet now, my voice muffled and thick. “Even when mom was alive, we hardly had any blood relatives. We’d like to see where we came from.”

  No one moved in the ensuing silence. The air grew heavy.

  “I need a coffee,” Dec muttered.

  My eyes flew to his face, then to Seth’s. He was obviously trying to hide his elation as much as I was, because in Dec-speak getting coffee meant negotiations were now open.

  I ran to the kitchen to put on a fresh pot. Nobody said anything until Dec was safely settled with a fresh cup of strong black coffee. Seth and I sat on either side of him at the old kitchen table.

  “All right, fill me in,” Dec said brusquely.

  We kept it simple. Seth left out the part about how long we’d been searching, instead only mentioning that he’d run into mom’s old friend and that she’d given him a name.

  “He’s going to be in Toronto next week,” Seth concluded. “And... well, we were hoping to go meet him there.”

  “No,” Dec said firmly.

  I clamped my teeth together to hold in my protest.

  Dec paused, taking in our frustrated faces. “If you’re going to do this, do it on your own turf. It’s safer, too, because for all you know he could be a crackpot. Make him come to you.”

  “You mean... here?” Seth said. He shot a nervous glance my way. I didn’t think it was the most brilliant idea either. Having Dec prowling around like a suspicious lion would not make for a relaxed getting-to-know-you session. In the end, though, we had little choice but to agree.

  Seth arranged the meeting for Friday evening. I couldn’t believe how nervous I was beforehand. I showered, put on makeup, and rearranged my hair three times, suddenly wishing it was longer. I was irritated with myself over my nerves, though, and kept telling myself that this was no big deal. I’d competed in front of thousands at the Royal the year before; a brief meeting with one man shouldn’t cause me to panic. It kind of did, though. Seth came in five minutes before the hour and sat on the bed. He had a wan look, and I noticed his efforts to slick down his shaggy pale hair. We didn’t speak until the doorbell rang.

  “It’s showtime,” he muttered. He let me lead the way downstairs.

  “Kids,” Dec said tightly, “this is Mr. Arroyo.”

  I only half-noted Dec’s formal introduction, involved as I was with studying the man’s face.

  “Alfonso, please,” he said, smiling. I noticed with a jolt the dimple in one cheek. The same dimple I saw in the mirror.

  “Well,” Dec said, “I’ll leave you to, ah, get acquainted.”

  He disappeared into the kitchen and I heard his murmur of conversation with Gran, who had insisted on being present for the encounter also.

  “You are just like your mother,” Alfonso said, gazing at Seth in apparent awe. He was several inches shorter than Seth’s six feet — no wonder I was such a shrimp. Seth nodded uncertainly, and Alfonso turned his gaze on me.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured, reaching out as if to touch my hair. I stiffened. “You look very much like your grandmother Luisa.”
r />   “Oh,” I said faintly. The notion that I had a grandmother — one that I actually looked like — was almost more shocking to me than seeing Alfonso. I couldn’t bring myself to think the words ‘my father’.

  Alfonso sat on the couch and Seth and I automatically took the loveseat, keeping some distance from him. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting to feel when I finally met my real father, but I’d been expecting something. Some sense of connection, of recognition. But other than my still-fluttery stomach, this felt like meeting any other stranger.

  “I imagine you have some questions,” Alfonso began. He was showing that dimple again; he seemed completely at ease. His accent sounded as much British as Spanish, and it made him seem very cultured. Much more so than us.

  I looked over at Seth. He was the one who had been so desperate to have this meeting, but now that the time had come he remained frustratingly mute. I cleared my throat.

  “Um, maybe you could tell us how you met our mother?” I was annoyed at how tentative I sounded.

  Alfonso bobbed his head. “Ah, yes, certainly.”

  It was pretty much the same story we’d gotten from our mother. Alfonso had been traveling through Canada when he had, literally, bumped into my mother on a Toronto street. They’d both been hurrying with their heads down, bundled up against the February cold, and Alfonso had inadvertently knocked her down. He’d been so remorseful that he insisted on taking her out for lunch. He’d ended up extending his stay and spending several weeks in Ontario with my mother.

  Alfonso paused, growing serious. “Now that I have children of my own, I understand what I missed with you. However, you must understand what a great scandal it would have been if I, a Catholic boy from a good family, had come home to announce that I had gotten a Canadian girl pregnant out of wedlock. Your mother would not have been accepted into my family.”

  I frowned at him. “Did you say ‘now that I have children’?” I didn’t comment on the ‘of my own’ part.

  He nodded. “You have half-sisters.”

  He pulled a picture from his wallet and passed it to us; Seth took it with a shaking hand. Two little girls smiled for the camera, both with wavy brown hair and apple cheeks. I wasn’t very good with kids’ ages but they were young, just starting school maybe. I felt my ears begin to ring as I stared.

  “Would anyone care for some tea?” Gran came in carrying a tray with a teapot, cups and a small plate of cookies. Her mouth was turned down at the corners, her eyes tight. I felt a swell of remorse. I hated that we were hurting Gran like this. I got up and quickly took the tray from her since Seth appeared to have entered some sort of coma state.

  “Thank you, my dear lady.” Alfonso rose and took Gran’s hand, holding it familiarly in both of his. “And I must thank you also for the important contribution you have made to the lives of these youngsters.”

  My eyes narrowed. Alfonso had no clue as to what our relationship with Gran was like; for all he knew she had made our lives miserable. It was baseless flattery. So either he was fawning over her because he was more nervous than he let on, or he was manipulating us — and I was deathly allergic to manipulation.

  We didn’t talk much longer. We discovered that Alfonso ran his family’s pharmaceutical business, that his parents had recently died, that he was happily married, and that he lived in Madrid. For his part, he mostly asked us about school and what we planned to study.

  We stood to see Alfonso out, and I felt Dec come up behind me. For the first time that I could remember, his solid mass was familiar and comforting, and when I felt his hands on my shoulders I leaned against him. He was much bigger than me, a fact that had occasionally scared me, but now I felt his strength allied with mine and I stood suddenly taller.

  “I must leave on Sunday,” Alfonso said. He looked at Dec first, then Seth and me. “Perhaps you would like to have dinner with me tomorrow?”

  Dec’s hands tightened on my shoulders. “We’ll discuss it and let you know.” He said it politely enough, but I could see Alfonso stiffen.

  It was an awkward parting. ‘It was nice to meet you’ didn’t seem adequate for a situation like this, so in the end, we mumbled a goodbye and shook hands. I noted that Alfonso’s hand wasn’t big for a man’s, in keeping with his slight build. Another thing we had in common.

  Seth and I bid Gran and Dec a hurried goodnight and escaped upstairs before they could question us.

  “Hey, zombie boy,” I muttered once we got to the landing, “thanks for keeping the conversation rolling.”

  He sighed. “I know, sorry.” He headed into my room, which was closest, and threw himself full-length on the bed. “That was a lot weirder than I thought it’d be.”

  I plopped down next to him. “Yeah, it was.” A pause. “Do we go tomorrow?” I asked quietly.

  Seth thought about it. “I’d kind of like to see what he’s like when Dec’s not in the next room, and anyway I didn’t get to ask him any questions.”

  After Seth left I got ready for bed slowly, replaying the evening’s events in my mind. I thought of all the ways I’d imagined meeting my father over the years, from him turning up on our doorstep to a chance encounter at a coffee shop. In my dreams, my father would clasp me tightly in his arms, as if I belonged there, as if he’d always wanted me there. As if his absence for my whole life was some terrible, tragic mistake. That was the father I had dreamt of, so maybe it was no wonder the reality was a letdown.

  Sixteen

  After feeding the next morning, I headed into the kitchen for breakfast. Dec was the only one in there, and I felt oddly uncomfortable. He observed me silently as I poured myself a cup of coffee.

  “You look like him,” he offered.

  I gave a non-committal shrug, squirming. I wasn’t exactly pleased about the resemblance, given Dec’s feelings about my natural father.

  “I don’t think you’ve got his personality though,” he went on thoughtfully. “You’re very forthright, and he strikes me as a calculating sort.”

  I looked away, feeling a hint of resentment at the implied slur.

  “Well, I don’t know where else my personality could come from. I’m certainly not like Mom.”

  “No. You’re like me,” he said quietly. He smiled slowly at my wide-eyed look. “You’re just as stubborn and hot-tempered as I am. That’s why we clash so often.”

  Dec’s smile, conspiratorial and sincere, sparked a weird yearning inside me. I’d felt it before — it was a yearning for his approval, his acceptance, and I usually stomped on it as soon as it emerged. That way it didn’t hurt as much when he inevitably lost his temper again. But I didn’t clamp it down this time. Instead, I smiled back.

  “I’m going to remind you of that the next time I’m making you crazy,” I said.

  I was a coward and let Seth tell Dec on his own that we wanted to see Alfonso again. We headed to Toronto in my car that evening, not talking much on the drive, each lost in our own thoughts.

  We went to an unassuming little pasta place on College Street. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as the day before; Alfonso asked us about our childhoods and in turn, he told us about his — our — family history. Toward the end of the meal his brown eyes, which I noticed were darker than mine, grew serious.

  “I would like my daughters to have the chance to know you. Your education is of course important, but we have many excellent universities in Spain, even some that teach in English. You are welcome to come and stay with me, for as long as you would like.”

  “Really?” Seth looked excited at the prospect, but I was disquieted.

  “So that we can meet our sisters?” I specified. I didn’t add the ‘half’ as he had. “What are they like?”

  He told us about them, speaking with tenderness and a certain quiet pride, and the more he did the more I felt the bubble and pop of rage inside me. I grew quiet, not talking and eventually not even looking at him.

  “We need to go,” I said suddenly, not even worrying about how rude i
t would seem.

  Seth didn’t argue; he knew me too well for that. We said a quick goodbye and I almost ran out the door. I strode rapidly down the cold downtown street, ignoring passersby but sensing Seth’s presence not far behind me.

  Alfonso’s children were healthy, prosperous, and from all appearances, cherished. Yet Seth and I had grown up skirting the edges of poverty until our mom married Dec. Instability had been our constant. We’d invested so much time in thinking about our father, imagining both what he was like and what we’d be like with him, and for his part, he seemed not to have given us a second thought. He didn’t have to stay with us and raise us. Our lives would have been transformed if he’d just kept in touch, answered our questions, if he’d let us know that we were worthy, at the very least, of being acknowledged. Then, not now. Now, I was beginning to think, it was too late.

  Seth wisely waited until we were halfway home to speak. “What gives, Sis?”

  I blew out a tangled gust of tension and shook my head. “Doesn’t it bother you that he was happy to ignore us our whole lives, and now that he has his ‘own’ kids he suddenly wants to know us?”

  “Not really. Like he said, it made him realize what he missed.”

  “I don’t think that’s true. I think he’s doing this for his ‘own kids’, not for us. Like we’re some kind of novelty to entertain them.” Especially my tall blond brother, I thought. “If his parents were still alive he probably wouldn’t even have returned your call.”

  Seth frowned over at me from the passenger seat; I’d been too wound up not to drive. “Since when are you so suspicious?”

  “I don’t know. But the whole thing feels weird to me.”

  “Well, it’s not like we have to decide tomorrow. But imagine seeing Spain! I don’t want to pass that up.”

  It was fairly late when we got home, and we managed to avoid telling Dec very much about our evening.

  “When are we going to tell him?” Seth asked me as we were feeding the next morning.

  I heaved three flakes of hay into Cal’s stall as I thought about it. “I think it will only upset him.”