A Delicate Truth

by McKnight, Zoe

  As I watch my sister closely, I’m seeing the signs. Norah becomes overly affectionate when she’s been drinking, and now she’s got her hand on James’ wrist. Her head is tilted to the side like an infatuated teenager.

  “Blair.” Elle gestures towards the entranceway.

  Lydia, James’ girlfriend, has arrived. She’s too late for dinner, but just in time to witness Norah throw herself at James. He doesn’t notice Lydia, rather he slides his chair closer to Norah’s and whispers something in her ear. She leans towards him and places her hand on his shoulder. A gesture that doesn’t escape Lydia’s attention, even as she greets Vaughn’s mother. I know that look in her eye. I’ve owned it on many an occasion and, unfortunately for her, the Hill brothers share an affinity for the ladies. I need to defuse this before it escalates. I know Lydia won’t dare make a scene in our house, especially not in front of my in-laws, but I can’t speak for the gin in Norah’s glass.

  “You keep her occupied while I break up these two lovebirds, alright?”

  “You got it,” Elle says before heading off towards Lydia and my mother-in-law.

  I approach them from behind then place a hand on both Norah’s and James’ shoulders.

  “Excuse me guys, but Norah, can I talk to you for a sec? Oh, and James, Lydia just got here. I’ll have a plate warmed up for her.”

  James’ eyes take a quick, hectic scan of the room before they lock with Lydia’s, who is now chatting with Elle.

  He rises and excuses himself. Norah isn’t pleased.

  “Jim-mee, where are you going? I’m in the middle of a story.” Her voice is a couple of octaves higher than normal.

  She reaches out for his hand, which he quickly stuffs in his pocket. “I … I’ve gotta go.”

  “Oh, you suck. You’re not allowed to talk to other women? What are you? Pussy-whipped?”

  Before he can reply, I pat his arm. “Just go. I’ll handle this.”

  She tosses up her arms. “Ah, here you go again. Always interrupting somebody. What now?” She starts to stand, but only makes it halfway up before she stumbles back into her seat. I glance around. Fortunately, our remaining guests are spread all about our great room, engaged in pockets of conversation.

  I smile. After my birthday party, I learned my lesson. When Norah is in this state, I can’t be aggressive with her.

  “Sis, I want to show you something in my office. Come see.”

  She studies me with suspicion, then slowly rises from her seat and smooths down her skirt before agreeing to follow me out.

  Once inside my office, I hold out the glass. “Can you explain this?”

  She takes it from my hand. “What? What about it?”

  “It’s gin.”

  “Looks like water to me.”

  “I think that’s the idea, but it’s gin. I can smell it.”

  “You’re going around sniffing drinks now?”

  “No, just yours.”

  She sighs. “So what, Blair? It was just one drink.”

  “It’s not just one drink. It will never just be one drink. You know that.”

  “You expect me to never drink again? For the rest of my life?”

  “Yes! That’s the whole point. You promised. Mom and I sent you to Forest Grove for a reason.”

  “You sent me to Forest Grove. You! Mom just went along with it.”

  “Me. Mom. What difference does it make? It’s what had to be done. And look at you now. Was that all for nothing? Do you know how much money that program cost?”

  “Money?” She laughs, waving her hand about the room. “Ya’ll have more than enough money. I can go to rehab all year long and it wouldn’t hurt your pockets.”

  “It doesn’t grow on trees. We work very hard—”

  “We?”

  “Don’t start that shit with me, Norah. I’m not in the mood.”

  “I swear, Blair, your stuff must be golden.” She slumps into an armchair, shaking her head with disgust. “You just can’t do no wrong, huh? I need a man like that.”

  “What?”

  “You. You are one—lucky—bitch, I tell ya.”

  Here we go again with her “ugly stepsister” routine. It’s so tired. “I know … I know. I’m the lucky one. I get everything I want. Yadda, yadda, yadda … This is not about me. This is about you—”

  “I can’t believe he didn’t leave your ass. To be honest, I didn’t think you had it in you. I always knew you were selfish, but damn.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Nothing.” She pops up from her seat. “Are we done here?”

  “No, we’re not. I think we should call your sponsor.”

  “I’m not calling anybody. I had one drink for the holiday. I’m entitled.”

  “That’s not the way the program works, and you know that.” I pick up the phone. “C’mon, we’ll call her together.”

  She snatches the receiver and slams it down. “I’m not going back to that place.”

  “No one said that. Let’s just call Leslie, she’ll know what to do.”

  “There’s nothing to do, ‘cause I’m fine. God! It’s Thanksgiving. Give me a break.”

  “Norah, you have to learn to live a life without alcohol. You have to. I’m worried about you—”

  “If you were so “worried” you wouldn’t have had a bar full of liquor out there. You’re passing around spiked eggnog and pitchers of Sangria left and right. Did you think about your “alcoholic” sister then? No. You didn’t. So don’t start preaching to me. I’m fine.” She starts for the door.

  “Please Norah, think about Ashley.”

  “Don’t you bring her into this. You worry about your own damn daughter.”

  “Morgan has nothing to do with this.”

  “No?” She walks back towards me. “You’re so damned self-righteous. Don’t you dare stand here and paint me as the bad mother, you have no right—”

  “Nobody said you were a bad mother—”

  “You! The one who’s lying to her daughter about her own father.”

  All of the air is sucked from my body. “What?”

  “You heard me!”

  “What did you say?”

  “Did you think you’d get away with it forever? You know there are millions of ways to find out. You’re not that damn smart.”

  How in the hell? Vaughn? No. It definitely wasn’t Elle. Dylan? Not even Dylan would tell her. “I … I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Cut the shit, Blair. I know. He knows. It’s not a secret anymore. Not that it mattered, ‘cause he’s still here. Blair wins again.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything that didn’t need to be done.”

  My entire life it’s been there. Traces of my sister’s jealousy, always bubbling beneath the surface. Waiting, longing to make itself known. To hurt me. Payback for not having it as hard as she. She blames me for having the life she always wanted. And now she’s found her weapon. I don’t know how, but she did. I stare into her eyes and the pieces of the puzzle fuse together. She’s known all along. It all comes barreling back to me. The subtle stabs, the sideways compliments, what she said to Vaughn at my birthday party.

  “It was you!” I yell. “You told him!”

  She smiles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You told Vaughn abut Morgan. It was you.”

  She shakes her head no, but her smirk says it all.

  “You had access to our medical records…”

  Of course she did. I don’t know how it escaped me. Her boss, Dr. Wallach, my obstetrician and our family doctor—they’re all affiliated with the same hospital. Norah had access to it all.

  “What records? You’re crazy.”

  “…so you found out our blood types.”

  “I don't know what you're talking about.” Her lips curl into a full-on grin.

  “Mom told you about Dylan, didn’t she? Then you started digging.”<
br />
  “Now why would I do that to you? You think I want to ruin your life? Who does that to their own sister?”

  It wasn’t a drunken slip of the tongue, it was a calculated, premeditated act. She probed through medical records in hopes of finding what she eventually did. She’s the one who told him and, judging by the look on her face, she’s not at all sorry. Her only regret is that her plan didn’t work. How it must burn through her to stand by and watch Vaughn and me together. To watch him adore a child that isn’t even his while Ashley’s own father will have nothing to do with her. It eats her to the core, and while ruining my life will do nothing to better hers, somehow, in that twisted mind of hers, seeing me divorced and disgraced will help her sleep at night. It isn’t until this moment that I realize just how deep-rooted her envy is. No twelve-step program could ever cure her. She needs the liquor to wash down the hate.

  “Norah, why?”

  She stands in silence, staring down at her feet, with her hands planted on her hips.

  “Answer me.” I grab her arms and shake her. “Answer me!”

  “It’s your own fault! I warned you. I told you don't send me to that place.”

  “To rehab?” I release her. “I did that for you! To help you!”

  “Because of you, I lost my job!”

  “That wasn’t my fault.”

  “It is your fault. Once Dr. Wallach found out I was in rehab, he let me go. You got me fired!”

  “No. You got yourself fired.”

  There’s a loud knock on the door. Elle cracks it open then steps inside. “Everything okay? I can hear you guys in the hall.”

  I point to Norah. “It was her! She’s the one who told Vaughn about Morgan. It was her. She pulled our records at work and told him.”

  Elle’s mouth drops open. “Norah!”

  Another knock on the door. This time my mother pokes her head inside. “What’s going on in here? The McCabes are leaving. Come out and say good night.”

  “You told her about Dylan!”

  My mother looks back and forth between my sister and me. “Norah, what did you tell her?”

  “It is what it is.” Norah shrugs. “He needed to know.”

  “How could you, Mom? I told you that in confidence. How could you tell her? Do you know what she did?”

  My mom turns to Norah. “What did you do?”

  “She doesn’t deserve him! He needed to know just what she is.”

  My mother brings her hand to her mouth. “Oh God, Norah, how could you?”

  “What difference does it make?” Norah says. “He’s still here.”

  “How stupid are you?” My mother grabs her by the arm. “We could’ve lost everything!”

  Elle points at my mother. “Blair, did you hear that? Did you hear what she just said?”

  “Hear what?” my mother says. “What’s she talking about?”

  “We could’ve lost everything,” I repeat her words. “Is that what you said?”

  “No.” She shakes her head vehemently. “I said Blair could have lost everything.”

  “That’s not what you said. I heard you.”

  “I heard you too,” Elle says.

  “What?” My mom turns to her. “Why are you even in here? Leave me alone with my daughters. This is none of your business.”

  “The same way you minded your business when you told Norah what I’d confided in you?” I say. “And when I asked you if you’d told her, you looked me straight in my face and lied.”

  My mother tugs at her earring. “I didn’t. Well I didn't mean to, it just slipped out. I mean that’s your sister. If you can’t tell family, who can you tell?”

  “Slipped out? You know how much she hates me. Mom, how could you?”

  “You two have to get over this stupid sibling rivalry. It’s time you just get over it.”

  “Get over it? Don’t you see what you’ve done?”

  “Blair, let it go.” Elle reaches for my arm. “They don’t get it, they never will.”

  “Oh. Don’t listen to this girl,” my mother says. “She just wants what you have.”

  “No.” I thrust my finger in her face. “You want what I have. The both of you. You don’t care about me or Morgan, only about staying on Vaughn’s payroll. When I came to you and told you how unhappy I was, you told me to suck it up. That there was too much to lose. But you didn’t mean my marriage. You meant all of this.”

  She steps back. “You’re talking crazy.”

  “And you’re pathetic. Look what you’ve raised.” I gesture at the space between Norah and me. “One daughter who’d rather live a lie than end up like you and another daughter who’s so miserable she has to stay drunk in order to cope.”

  Her eyes well up.

  “I want the both of you out of my house. Right now. Out!”

  “Fine!” Norah says, before wrapping her arms around our mother, who is now sobbing.

  For the third time tonight there’s a knock at the door. I swing it open to find Ashley. She’s bundled up in a coat and scarf. “No one told me the party was moved to your office.” Her smile quickly fades. “What’s wrong?”

  I step out into the hallway and close the door behind me. “I need you to drive your mother and grandmother home, okay?”

  “But Mom drove her own car. I came with Ricky.”

  Damn, I’d forgotten all about him. Oh, to hell with it. “Listen, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but tonight your Mom started drinking again. She can’t drive home, and Grandma is too upset to drive. I can put them in a cab.”

  Her face crumbles. “Are you serious?”

  I nod. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry. She needs to be sorry.”

  “Tomorrow we’ll figure out what to do next. I’ll call her sponsor. We’ll get through this.”

  “It’s okay, I’ll take her home.”

  “No, you don’t want Ricky to see her like this.”

  “It’s okay, he already knows. I won’t be able to sleep until I know she’s home. I’ll take her.”

  “You sure?”

  She nods.

  Just then, Norah swings the door wide open. “We’re leaving!”

  Ashley grabs her mother’s hand. “C’mon. I’ll take you.”

  Surprisingly, Norah doesn’t protest. She and my mother, who refuses to look at me, follow her out.

  TWENTY-SIX

  That which was designed to be a distraction, became one of my lowest moments. Within a single hour, I learned that I was betrayed not only by my sister, but also by my mother.

  That day when I’d asked her if she’d divulged my secret, I knew deep down that she was lying, but I suppose the naive, hopeful side of me wanted to believe that no mother would betray her child’s trust. Least of all to that child’s sibling who she knew hated her. I was sadly mistaken.

  As for Norah, it was just a matter of time. Her comment to Vaughn on my birthday was just her testing the waters. If I’d known forcing her into rehab would have fanned the flames I would’ve let her ass stay in jail.

  Thanksgiving taught me a lot. Mainly that I’m truly out here alone. Besides Elle and Vaughn (if and when I reclaim his love), I have no one besides myself. It’s not the first time I’ve toyed with this notion, but now there’s evidence to support my theory.

  For obvious reasons, this is not a story I can share with Dr. Lane, but I need something to get me through these next few days so I call her and ask that she increase my Xanax dosage. She called it in immediately.

  The chipper redhead behind the counter tells me just what I don’t want to hear; it’s going to take at least an hour to fill. I sit in the CVS waiting area for twenty minutes before I’m chased away by the hacking cough of the man beside me; I can all but see his germs floating through the air.

  Outside I pace around in the afternoon sun. I see they’ve opened a new Ann Taylor in the attached mall. Shopping used to make me feel better. Lately it’s only a short-lived distraction. B
ut any distraction will do right now, so I spend the next thirty minutes browsing through the store. After I find a pair of corduroy slacks and a brown twinset, I head to the register. I place the clothes on the counter and rummage through my purse for my wallet when I hear a familiar voice.

  “Mrs. Hill?”

  It’s my old nanny. What the hell is she doing working the cash register at Ann Taylor’s?

  “Hannah?” I say. “Uh, how are you?”

  “Fine, and you?”

  “I’m well. Didn’t know you worked retail too?”

  “Now I do.”

  “I see.”

  “Yeah.” She scans the tags on the pants. “Gotta pay the bills somehow.”

  I’d assumed she’d been hired by another family already. Had she just minded her business maybe she wouldn’t be here folding sweaters.

  “How’s Morgan?” she asks.

  “Wonderful.”

  “Good. Send her my love. And Mr. Hill? How is he?”

  “He’s fine.”

  “That will be one-hundred fourteen dollars and fifty-eight cents.”

  I hand her my American Express card.

  “I saw him in the city last week actually.”

  “Yeah?” I won’t ask her where, because that’s exactly what she wants.

  But I don’t have to, because next she says, “Yeah, down in the meatpacking district.”

  I sign the receipt.

  “At a rooftop lounge in a new hotel. He looks good. Can’t believe he’s been out of the league so long. These young guys have nothing on him.”

  I lean over the counter and snatch my card from her hand. “Is there something you want to say to me?”

  “Who, me?” Her eyelashes flutter with exaggerated innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just complimenting your husband.”

  “Well, don’t.” I grab the shopping bag and turn to leave. “I know what I have at home.”

  “So do most other women.”

  I whip back around. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Listen here, you little bitch. Don’t you dare speak of my husband again. You hear me? I’m not—”

  “Is there a problem Ma’am?” asks an older, brown-haired woman, whom I presume to be the store manager. Hannah’s eyes quickly lose their contempt. She has that innocent, girl-next-door look she had when I hired her.