by Terri Osburn
Megan,
Thanks for a great night. I hope we can do it again. Without the shellfish this time.
Talk soon,
Ryan
I didn’t even get to say goodbye. Spinning, I checked the clock on the wall. Nearly noon. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept so late. Maybe he’d sent a text by now to check on me. Head still foggy, I tried to remember where I put my phone. I hadn’t used it since we were on our way to the restaurant more than twelve hours ago.
Oh no. This was not going to be good.
Finding my purse near the door, I tapped the screen to find countless notifications. The top one was from Josie.
If you do not call me within five minutes, I’m coming to your house.
The message was sent thirty minutes before.
As if on cue, my doorbell started ringing nonstop. I understood they were worried, but this kind of drama was not necessary.
“I’m coming,” I yelled as I hurried down the stairs. Swinging the door open, I said, “Lay off the bell already.”
To my surprise, all four of my friends were on my doorstep, and none of them looked happy to see me.
“What the hell, Megan?” snapped Josie.
“We were worried sick,” added Becca.
“I told you she was fine,” said Donna as Lindsey pushed past all of them.
“Are you okay?” she asked, cupping my cheeks, then checking my arms for bruises, I assumed. “Did he knock you out? Drug you?” She looked up the stairs. “Is the bastard still here?”
Brushing her hands away, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “He isn’t here, and none of that happened. I fell asleep while we were watching a movie, and just woke up. He must have tossed a blanket over me and left.”
“Is that all he did?” Josie asked.
They really needed to get their imaginations in check. “Guys, look at me. I’m fine. Ryan was a complete gentleman, and he stuck around when most guys would have dropped me on the curb and run.”
“Why?” Becca asked. “What happened?”
In desperate need of a toothbrush and the chance to empty my bladder, I turned to head upstairs. “Just come up and I’ll tell you everything.” My overprotective friends followed and once inside the apartment, I said, “Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”
I took care of the necessities in the bathroom, then returned feeling more awake. Josie, Becca, and Donna all sat on the couch while Lindsey occupied one of the chairs. I settled into the other and debated on where to begin.
“Last night was a bit… eventful.”
“Good eventful or bad eventful?” Donna asked.
I started at the beginning. “I accidentally ate a piece of shrimp at dinner.”
“Oh, shit,” said Lindsey as Becca scooted forward on the sofa. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Did you have your injector?”
“Yes, I had it, and thankfully Ryan knew how to use it because I was barely able to get it out of my purse let alone inject myself.”
“That’s a point in his favor.” But Josie wasn’t appeased. “Did he take you to the hospital?”
“There was no need for that. It was a tiny bite and I took Benadryl when I got home.” Which explained why I’d fallen asleep. I should have known that would happen. “But that isn’t all that happened.”
“I knew it,” said Lindsey, leaping to her feet. “What did he do? No one touch anything so we don’t contaminate the evidence.”
We all stared at her in silence until Becca said, “I’m canceling your cable subscription. And your Netflix.” To me, she said, “Go on, Meg.”
I picked up the envelope from the coffee table. “I read the letter from my mother.”
Lindsey dropped back into her chair. “What does it say?”
I handed it over. “Read it for yourself.”
Becca read the letter out loud, and when she was finished, we all sat in silence for several seconds.
“You have siblings,” Donna said in a hushed voice.
“Seems so.”
Lindsey leaned back and crossed her arms. “She didn’t even apologize for leaving.”
“Or for ignoring you for twenty years,” Josie added.
As if in shock, they all watched me with wide eyes. “Are you okay?” Becca asked.
Was I? I hadn’t spent a lot of time processing the situation yet. Geraldine expressed no regret or remorse for what she’d done. In fact, she made it sound as if we’d simply agreed to go our separate ways. No harm, no foul, have a nice life. As if I hadn’t been a little girl confused and heartbroken and left wondering why my mother didn’t love me enough to stay in my life.
How unfeeling could a woman be?
“I’m angry,” I said. “Not only does she want to keep my existence a secret, but she thinks I’d help her do it.”
“Do you know this Cassandra person she’s talking about?” Josie asked.
Nodding, I said, “A young woman has been doing some family research at the library lately. Her name is Cassie so I’m sure that’s her.”
Josie leaned forward. “Do you think she knows who you are?”
I took the letter from Becca and stuffed it back into the envelope. “I don’t think so. We’ve talked and if she knows, she’s a really good actress.”
“That is so crazy,” Becca said. “I mean, what are the odds?”
“How did she know your address?” Lindsey asked. We all looked her way. “She hasn’t sent you anything since you were ten. How did Geraldine know where to send that letter?”
Stunned by the question, I said, “I don’t know. An internet search, maybe? None of us are hard to find these days.”
Lindsey didn’t look convinced. “That’s true, but the tone of that letter doesn’t sound like she had to work hard to find you.”
“What are you saying? That she’s been keeping tabs on me?”
My friend shrugged. “Maybe.”
I’d always assumed that once she left, she never looked back. But then I’d also assumed that she’d never had more kids and I was clearly mistaken about that.
“What are you going to do?” asked Donna. “Will you tell Cassie who you are?”
This one I could answer. “I plan to. I’m just not sure how to do it yet. How do you tell a person that not only are you her sister, but that her mother left you and never came back?”
A collective silence fell over the room, and I didn’t blame them. Who could possibly answer that?
“Do you know how old this girl is?” asked Lindsey.
“I’d guess in her early twenties,” I said, tossing the letter onto the coffee table. “I’ve never asked.”
“Geraldine left you twenty-three years ago, right?”
“It’ll be twenty-three years in November.” Recognizing the look on her face, I said, “Why?”
The amateur sleuth wannabe held my gaze in silence before saying, “Do the math. If this woman is twenty-two or older…”
The possibilities clicked into place. “Then she’s Dad’s daughter, too.”
“We don’t know that,” Becca cut in. “And there’s no reason to assume.”
“She might only be twenty, right?” Josie watched me with wide eyes. “I mean, Geraldine wouldn’t have—”
“The woman left a seven-year-old without a second thought,” Donna said. “I wouldn’t put anything past her.”
This was getting more complicated by the second. With Dad happily finding love again, I’d been thinking of leaving him out of this entirely, but I couldn’t do that if Cassie was his daughter. And thinking of Dad reminded me of our conversation before the date.
“Crap. I’m supposed to meet his girlfriend today.” Scrambling, I found my phone and after dismissing a ton of messages from the girls, I located the one from Dad. Lunch was at his place at one. I checked the clock on the wall. “I have less than an hour to get ready and get over there. I need to hurry.”
The girls all jumped up and Donna asked, “Are you going t
o tell him what was in the letter?”
“I’ll have to eventually, but not today. He’s finally moving on and I don’t want anything from Geraldine to mess this up for him.”
“Fair enough,” said Josie. After kissing me on the cheek, she added, “Let us know how it goes.”
“I will.” I walked them to the door and waited until they were down the stairs and outside before hurrying into the bathroom. My lips were no longer swollen, but my hair was a mess and sleeping in mascara had left heavy black smudges beneath my eyes. Staring at my reflection, I pictured Cassie in my mind, searching for a resemblance.
Where my eyes were brown, hers were blue. My hair was dark while hers leaned more toward blond. That could be dyed, of course. Resemblance or not, she was my sister. Getting through today without sharing the revelation with Dad would be hard, but his happiness came first. Today was about him and Nessa, and Geraldine would stay in the past where she belonged. At least, for now.
Chapter Thirteen
“I’m here!” I called as I rushed into Dad’s house fifteen minutes late. I’d sent a text before leaving home to say that I was running behind.
Dad lived in a row house on a quiet street on the South Side, and finding a place to park had taken an extra minute. He’d been in this house since moving to the city after I had eight years ago. Becca and Lindsey had both grown up in the area so after college graduation, Josie and I basically followed them home. Donna didn’t join the group until a year or two later when she and Becca met through work.
The narrow home, originally built in 1900, had a brick exterior painted mint green with mauve accents around the door and windows. It screamed city charm and I hoped to one day own something similar.
“Hey there, pumpkin,” Dad said, greeting me as I stepped into the tiny living room. “How was your date?”
That was a long story for another day. “It was nice. I’m sorry I’m late.”
He waved the apology away. “You’re fine.” Lowering his voice, he said, “Nessa is very nervous to meet you so she might come on a little strong at first. She’ll calm down if you just give her a minute.”
I wasn’t sure what come on strong meant. “She doesn’t need to be nervous with me.”
“I told her that, but she knows you’ve had me all to yourself for a long time. Just let her get it out of her system.” Bracing myself for the unknown, I followed him into the kitchen. “We’re sitting outside. Do you want a soda?”
“Sure, I’ll take one.”
Dad grabbed a Pepsi from the fridge and we headed out to the patio. His warning had not been enough to prepare me for what followed.
“There you are!” shouted a slender woman, leaping from her patio chair and running to close the short distance between us. Dad’s patio was only ten-by-ten feet and the table and umbrella took up most of that space. “I’m so happy to meet you!”
Twig-like arms pulled me into a hug, squeezing me tight enough to cut off my airway. A second later, she released me, pushing me away just enough to grip my upper arms. Her face, angular and slightly wrinkled, was entirely too close to mine, and her bright-blue eyes looked enormous, magnified by the thick lenses of her glasses, which were far too large for the size of her face.
Brown and silver curls darted out in every direction from her head, while bright-pink lips stretched wide to reveal a smile that was as oddly oversized as the glasses she wore. Nessa Broneicki looked like a Muppet.
Stunned speechless, I stared in silence until Dad said, “Megan, this is Nessa.”
Right. I’d figured that part out. “Hi,” I said before recovering enough to add, “It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’ve heard so much about you that I feel like we know each other already,” she said, her voice locked at top levels. My ears were starting to ring. “I hope we can be good friends.”
I wanted to like her. I really did. But holy wow was she a lot to take.
“Why don’t we sit down?” Dad said as I stood motionless, not sure what to do next. Nessa was still gripping my arms and I feared she might pull me into another lung-crushing hug.
“Yes,” she said. “Of course!” We each took a seat around the glass-top table with Dad across from me and Nessa to my right. She gripped my hand while hovering on the edge of her chair. “You’re so lucky to have a daddy like James. He’s such a caring man.”
On this we could agree, but I wasn’t used to this level of physical contact with a stranger. “He’s the best dad a girl could ask for,” I said, sliding my hand out of hers and into my lap. I tried to remember what he’d told me about her, but all I could recall was the wicked stepmother-like details. “He says you have two daughters?”
“I do,” she said, her smile widening, which hadn’t seemed possible. “My oldest is Nancy, and she lives in New York City with her partner Jasmine. They’re getting married this Christmas. Then there’s Beatrice, but we call her Bunnie. She and her husband live out in Dormont, and they have the most adorable little boy you’ll ever meet. Maddox is my pride and joy.”
Bunnie? That would be easy enough to remember. A million questions ran through my mind, but none felt appropriate to ask upon first meeting. Things like was her ex-husband—presuming she ever had one—still around? What were her intentions toward my father? Was she financially stable, and did she have a volume knob?
“So you two work together?”
“Nessa has been with the company for twenty-eight years,” Dad said. “She practically runs the accounting department.”
Blushing, she tapped Dad affectionately on the arm. “Don’t be telling tales, now. I’m a worker bee at best. They’d never put me in charge of anything important.”
This modesty did not sit well with Dad. “Nonsense. They couldn’t function without you. Just last week Malcolm Turner told me he doesn’t know what they’re going to do when you retire. They’re already dreading having to find a replacement.”
“Are you retiring soon?” I asked.
“Not for a couple more years. I want to get to an even thirty, and then I plan to turn in my access key and start traveling.”
That would put her barely into her early fifties, based on what Dad had told me. Retiring at that age was a distant dream for most people.
As if reading my mind, Dad said, “Nessa is a genius with numbers. She has the best retirement portfolio I’ve ever seen, and I’ve put together hundreds of them over the years.”
He and Josie had had many spirited conversations about investment portfolios. When the subject of numbers came up, my eyes glazed over.
“I was afraid I was going to have to spend all that money by myself.” Nessa’s voice finally dropped to a tolerable level as she stared at Dad with sappy smile. “I don’t worry about that now.”
Wait. Whoa. Were they already at the point of spending their golden years together? He said they’d been dating for two months. This was moving entirely too fast.
A timer dinged from inside the house and Dad leaped from his chair. “That’s the meatloaf. I’ll be right back.”
Oh, no. He was going to leave me alone with her. I considered offering to help, but that would be too obvious.
Once Dad stepped inside, Nessa said, “He’s such a wonderful man.” There was a quiet reverence in her tone. Enough to make me wonder where the loud woman I’d met a few minutes ago had gone. “He never stops talking about you.”
Assuming that must get annoying, I said, “Sorry about that.”
“Oh, no, no. I love it. I talk about my girls all the time, too. I’ve dated enough men over the years to know most of them don’t want to hear about my kids. Your father is different. He’s one of the good ones.”
Yes, he was. “You know he hasn’t dated in a long time, right?”
As if morphing into a new, more relaxed person, Nessa leaned back in her chair. “I do, and I’m glad for it. If another woman had snapped him up before now, I’d be missing out on something very special.”
Maybe we were
going to be friends. I just had to make a few things clear. “He’s been really hurt in the past. I don’t want him to go through anything like that ever again.”
Acknowledging the message, she sat up and rested her arms on the table. “I promise you that I won’t ever hurt him, Megan. I know a good thing when I find one.”
Appeased, at least for now, I accepted her words. “That’s good to know.”
The rest of the Sunday visit went well, and once Nessa calmed down, she was actually a very pleasant woman. Funny, too. She doted on Dad, who beamed when she was in the room. They were both practical yet nerdy enough to be adorable together. I got to see countless pictures of Maddox on Nessa’s phone, and Dad dragged out a photo album from when I was a teenager. From braces to my first pom poms to the day I received my acceptance letter to Penn State, the images took me back in time to when Dad had been my whole world. The one person who would always be there no matter what.
Every photo sparked a story, and Dad remembered everything. When they were taken. What we were doing. Little details about something I’d said that day or where we’d gone to eat. Nessa listened intently to every tale and asked questions that triggered even more stories. For a couple of hours, I forgot about the letter and the library, and it wasn’t until I was alone with Dad helping him load the dishwasher that I considered mentioning what I’d learned from Geraldine’s letter. Part of me wanted his advice on how to tell Cassie of our connection. At the same time, that was a burden I couldn’t bear to place on his shoulders.
He was happy again. I didn’t want to do anything to wipe the smile from his face. So I kept the letter to myself.
Once at home for the night, I’d considered an array of options for how to talk to Cassie. I’d even done an internet search to see if there was some recommended way to tell a person that you were their sibling. A long shot, but I was desperate enough to try anything. The only decision I’d come to was that I didn’t want to do it in the library. I’d have to see if Cassie would meet me someplace in the evening. Someplace quiet since I wasn’t sure how she would react. There was a possibility that she wouldn’t even believe me. Heck, I barely believed this myself.