Did we pull it off? Growing up alone, I never had a real partner in crime. I’m almost gleeful until I realize what the records signify. This can’t be good.
Meanwhile, Mom explains our schedule for the photographer and the reception.
“I better get ready.” I put my dishes in the dishwasher. When she isn’t paying attention, I dart down the hallway into Blake’s room.
He holds out several pages. “Proof.”
I would rather clean the litter box with my bare hands than take them. I do it anyway, skimming enough to realize that my father was actually a patient at Meadowview.
PATIENT NAME: THOMAS DARREN BENTON
PATIENT NUMBER: 47625
I still can’t believe it. “Why wouldn’t Mom tell me the truth?”
“The psychology of a lie.” Blake rubs between his eyes. “At first maybe it was too hard to explain. Later, it probably became so ingrained, such a part of the history you believed, she couldn’t figure out how to unwind it.”
Isn’t that what she said about Oscar?
“Maybe you’re right.” I take the papers and tuck them under my shirt. In the safety of my room, with one hand on Oscar for comfort, I read the documents that crush the foundation Mom raised me on.
Dad.
Depression.
Accidental overdose.
The magnitude of the past ripples into my present. I don’t know Dad nearly as well as I thought I did.
Then there’s Mom, the only person who’s been there for my entire existence. She’s the constant in a life of variables.
Apparently, I don’t know her that well, either.
8
GIFTS
As I get ready for the wedding, I try to process everything new I’ve learned about Dad. It’s like someone ripped out part of To Kill a Mockingbird and replaced it with pages from The Catcher in the Rye. It makes zero sense. I can’t reconcile my hero dad with someone sad and depressed.
It’s from Dad that I got my love of cats, my left-handedness, and my need for order. We’re connected through these little details. Even though he didn’t help raise me, I considered him part of my life, part of my history.
Does knowing how he died change any of that? I had imagined a compassionate Dad dying, indirectly, because of his commitment to animals. He had stayed late the night he was killed. Now I have to rewrite the legend in my mind.
I need to focus on the wedding. I’ve straightened my frizzy hair but the eye shadow that made me so confident yesterday isn’t working any magic today. I’m running out of time. Close to tears, I call Grace and beg her to come over.
“What’s the matter?” she says when we’re alone in my room.
“I can’t do this.” I wave my hand over the makeup lined up across my dresser.
“Okay.” She takes stock of the situation. “Your hair looks nice. If you put the mascara on, I can do everything else. Is it waterproof?”
I nod.
“Good. Because you look like you might cry any minute. Should I tell you about my latest favorite villain to distract you?”
“No horror movies now, Grace.” But I can’t help smiling. She finishes my makeup and it looks almost as good as it did in the store. Now I just need to change out of my pjs.
Blake shows up at my door, looking like a model in his gray suit along with the tie I picked. Grace sucks in her breath.
“Grace, this is my stepbrother, Blake. Blake, this is my friend, Grace.”
“Hey,” he says, flashing her a smile. He hands me a shopping bag. “We’re supposed to meet the photographer in half an hour. I hope this didn’t get too wrinkled.”
I take it from him. Inside is a longer plastic bag around a hanger. I slip off the plastic and gasp.
It’s the glamorous yellow dress, the one I really wanted.
“Surprise,” Blake says. “After you mentioned it at the mall, I thought maybe it would make you happy.”
“Wow! How did you—”
“I went back when you were in Sephora. I guessed at the size.”
“El, it’s beautiful,” Grace says.
I lay the dress across my bed.
“But Mom will have a fit! This is the one she picked.” I pull out the ruffled-rose thing and hold it against me.
Grace makes a face like Oscar threw up a hairball.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” I ask.
“I should stay out of this,” Blake says. “Grace, what do you think?”
“The yellow one is so much prettier.”
I frown. It’s Mom’s special day. Then again, I’m not feeling all that accommodating after learning about her lies.
“It was really nice of you to buy this for me, and it’s the perfect size. I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” I tell Blake.
“I’ll wait with him in the kitchen while you change,” Grace says.
They leave me alone in my room, and I shut the door behind them. The entire back of my bedroom door is covered with a giant cat collage and I run my hand over a few of the images. I remember carefully selecting the pictures and arranging them by their expressions one by one. Cheerful cats, sad cats, mischievous cats. Even though they aren’t precisely lined up, something about the collage has always made me happy. Mom, to her credit, didn’t complain about the three rolls of tape the project required.
I have to stop stalling and get ready. Choosing a dress shouldn’t be so hard. “This is crazy,” I mumble. But the word crazy makes me think of Dad and mental illness. I cringe at my own words and select a dress.
When I finally emerge, Grace has gone home. Blake and Stanley have left to meet the photographer. Mom’s in the kitchen alone, jingling her keys.
She smiles as she checks out my rose-colored glory. “You look beautiful.”
“So do you.” She’s wearing a white lace dress that comes to her knees. “Are you nervous?”
“A happy nervous,” she says. “How are you?”
It’s my chance to ask about Dad. “Um, Blake mentioned …” But how can I do this now? What if she becomes emotional right before the photographs? “He said he had a sister who died at birth. Why didn’t Stanley tell me when we spoke about the divorce?”
Mom sighs. “Even after all these years, it’s hard for him to discuss. Death can be like that.”
Yes. Death can be like that.
She glances at the clock. “We shouldn’t be late.”
“No, of course not.”
We meet Ken, the photographer, at the park next to our building. The Hudson River sparkles in the sunshine. Stanley can’t stop smiling.
“Everyone looks gorgeous,” he says.
Blake glances at me, then looks away. I was so worried about Mom’s reaction to the yellow dress that it never occurred to me that he would be hurt if I didn’t choose it.
While Ken and his assistant set up, I stand next to Blake.
“The dress … it was really nice of you. But I didn’t want to upset her today.”
“Of course. Save it for another special occasion.” He hands me the bracelet box. His stitches are covered with a small adhesive bandage instead of the bulky white gauze. “We should give it to her now.”
I nod. “Mom, Blake and I have a wedding present for you.”
“Oh, how sweet!” She opens the box. “It’s beautiful. And the blue. How thoughtful.” She hugs Blake, then me, quick enough that she can’t feel me stiffen, but not before I see her eyes tear.
“It was all Ella’s idea,” he says.
“No, actually—”
Ken claps his hands. “Let’s go, folks.”
The photography madness begins. He arranges us in different family combinations. Me and Mom. Blake and Stanley. Me and Blake. The four of us. It goes on and on.
When I’m not in the shot, I use my own camera to photograph his poses. My plan is still to make an album as a wedding present so they’ll have photos right after the honeymoon. I also bought a book for Stanley about the history of chess that I snuck into his suit
case as a surprise.
I watch Mom smile for the camera and push her lie out of my mind, not wanting it to taint the day. Still, I have to try not to pull away when I pose with her, as if something has shifted, a crack in our family veneer.
As the photographer packs up his lenses, a white limousine pulls up to the park. Mom looks at Stanley, but he’s as puzzled as she is.
“Nice ride, huh?” Blake links his arm through mine. “This is our present to you, Dad.”
I feel my mouth drop and make an effort to look normal.
“You’ve got it until midnight,” Blake explains. “Then it turns into a VW beetle.”
“Well, it sure beats a taxi,” Stanley says.
“What a lovely treat!” Mom says as the driver holds the door open for her. “You two are full of surprises.”
I try to catch Blake’s eye before we enter the limo but I can’t. His present is a good idea, a great one, actually. I wish he’d told me everything he planned. Now I owe him for the dress, the limo, and the truth.
9
VOWS
The reception takes place on the second floor of The Brass Rail. The restaurant is one of Hoboken’s haunted places, but that didn’t dissuade Mom from choosing it. White tulle wraps the railing of the grand staircase and the upstairs room is decorated in black and white. I’m relieved to see white lilies at the center of each table. For the briefest moment, I imagine them replaced by the black flowers at Dad’s grave.
The party is a small affair: Lisa, Mom’s friend who first introduced her to Stanley; Stanley’s brother and his family of four; Lucille, who works at the bookstore, and grumpy Henry, too; some guy named Mike who’s known Stanley since they were young; a few other random family and friends. Jana is still away, but Grace, Piper, and their parents, Mr. and Mrs. Wallace, are here.
The whole evening passes quickly, almost like flipping through a series of photos: the four of us taking the limo ride to the restaurant. The I-dos. Mom and Stanley dancing to some mushy, old-fashioned song on the temporary dance floor. Stanley saying, “It’s nice to have you as a daughter, Ella. Call me if you need anything while we’re away.” Me avoiding Mom as much as possible. I don’t want to ruin her special day, but I can’t help feeling bitter.
Grace and I escape to the bathroom after dinner. “You wore the ugly dress?” She fusses with her hair in the mirror. She’s worn it up and is completely transformed from earlier.
“It makes my mom happy.”
“You’re way too nice.”
I shrug. I shouldn’t need to explain that it’s always been the two of us. Now, with the addition of Stanley, I’m not about to hurt our relationship by doing something she’ll blatantly disapprove of.
“You look pretty,” I tell her.
“Thanks.”
Someone knocks on the door, but when we shuffle out, no one is there.
“Weird,” Grace says.
I don’t mention the haunted history of the restaurant, especially since it was a bride that tripped and fell down the stairs. The tragedy continued with the distraught groom committing suicide later that night. Some of the waiters say that when they clean at the end of the day, they see mysterious things. Mom said the whole story was silly, and I’m sure Grace would feel the same way.
“Want to get something to drink?” I ask. Grace nods. We stand at a table near the bar drinking sparkling cider. Blake comes over to join us. I realize he must not know many people and that this isn’t necessarily a fun event for him, either.
“Let me take a picture,” Grace says, motioning us closer together. I feel like she’s taunting me since I said he was good-looking.
Blake puts his arm around my shoulder like he’s known me for years. “That’s a nice tie,” Grace says. “The gray and pink looks good with El’s dress. It’s like you two belong together.”
Definitely taunting me.
“Thanks,” Blake says. “Ella helped pick it out.”
My eyes widen. Grace can’t realize that Blake was the beautiful boy from the mall. Even though it was an innocent mistake—how was I supposed to know I was gushing about my stepbrother?—I can predict how Grace will react. Shame flushes my cheeks as she snaps the photo.
I need to distract her. “Blake is new to Hoboken. A lot of movies were filmed here, right?”
That’s the only cue Grace needs. She launches into a chronological history of Hoboken-related cinematography. Blake listens intently as I drift away to say hi to some of Mom’s friends. Was his girlfriend disappointed not to be invited to the wedding? I can’t help wondering if he’s attracted to Grace. Not that I really care.
I spot Henry but steer clear of him. When I glance in his direction he’s frowning at me. I’m relieved when Piper comes over, except that her dress is the same shade of pink as mine.
“Ooh, we match!” she says.
Great. I’m dressed like a nine-year-old.
“I can’t wait for you to stay over,” she says. “Grace is planning fun things. You’ll include me, too, right?”
“It’s up to your sister. You have to convince her.”
“Mom says she’s a mule,” Piper says. “No one can convince her of anything.”
I try not to laugh at her description of Grace’s stubbornness.
When the waiters ask us to be seated for dessert, Blake and I are alone at our table as Mom and Stanley cut the wedding cake.
“She’s interesting,” Blake says about Grace, but it doesn’t sound like a compliment.
“We’ve been friends for a long time.”
“That’s interesting, too. It seems like you would get on each other’s nerves.”
Don’t all friends annoy each other sometimes? Although I realize it’s been worse with Jana away. It’s like we’re a three-legged stool and Jana’s absence leaves us unbalanced. I’m not sure how to respond to him, though, without being disloyal to Grace. Luckily, Mom and Stanley return and we all have cake. Mom makes chitchat in a breathless, happy way, only taking a few bites before they continue to socialize. Blake and I finish our dessert in silence.
“Would you like to dance?” he asks once we’re done.
I follow him to the floor as “Fools Rush In” starts to play. Blake holds me at a respectful distance while we slow dance, but I still feel weird. Blake seems less like a stepbrother and more like an older friend from school. We have no real history together, nothing that makes him family. I wonder if anyone thinks it’s odd that we’re dancing.
“You’re quiet,” he says, making me realize how long I’ve been lost in my own thoughts.
“Sorry.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry. You obviously have a lot on your mind. I shouldn’t have pushed you to learn about your dad. There’s too much going on right now. You didn’t need this.”
I don’t want to talk but it seems better to get it over with, like jumping right into the deep end of a cold pool. “You were right. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you at first. The whole thing is kind of a shock.”
Blake shrugs. “It’s understandable. Why should you believe me over your mom? Parents can suck when it comes to the truth. Not like us. We tell it like it is.”
I’m not sure what to say to that. Are we bound by a vow of mutual honesty? Some type of sibling honor code? I don’t think Grace and Piper are particularly truthful with each other. But there’s a lot I don’t know about being part of a larger family.
The song ends and Blake’s hand lingers on my back. I feel the warmth through my ugly dress, but I push any unbrotherly thoughts of him out of my mind. Then Mom comes over and Blake wanders away.
“Is everything okay?” she asks. “You don’t seem yourself tonight.”
Of course she would notice, even between her hostess-bride duties. Mom knows me better than anyone. But I don’t feel like I truly know her anymore. The force of the realization knocks me for a loop and I blink back tears.
“It’s been an emotional day,” I say, which is true, just not in the way t
hat she expects.
“Yes, honey, it has. And you’re still upset with me. It’s about Oscar, isn’t it?”
“I don’t like being lied to.” I make serious eye contact, somehow willing her to tell me the truth about everything.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t honest sooner. I really am.”
She looks so sincere and she doesn’t hesitate at all. What about Dad, I want to ask her. What about the most significant lie?
“You need to always be truthful with me,” I say. “I can deal with the facts, about Oscar or anything else.”
“I promise.”
I wait for more, for even a hint of a confession. It doesn’t come.
10
THE VISIT
I wake up late Sunday morning to find Blake making eggs in the kitchen.
“Dad texted that they boarded their flight. They didn’t want to wake us this morning when they left,” he says. “Want breakfast?”
Does he remember I’m a vegan? I stare at the eggs, wondering how to remind him politely.
He must see my expression. “Oh, the eggs are for me. Don’t worry.” He removes tinfoil from a plate on the counter. “For you, there’s fake sausage and toast with weird pseudo-butter I found in the fridge.” He pushes the food toward me. “Breakfast of champions! What are you doing today?”
“Working at the store.”
“On a Sunday?”
“Mom picked the slowest time of year to go on her honeymoon, but there’s still stuff to do, even if there aren’t many customers.”
“Maybe I’ll tag along. You can start teaching me all the book stuff in case you ever want an afternoon off.”
“Sure.” It’s nice that Blake’s trying to be helpful and I do love that he made me breakfast.
After I eat, I feed Oscar. He sniffs it but only takes a few bites. I wonder if he misses Mom. I do, sort of. But given her dishonesty about Dad’s death, it’s a relief that she’s gone. At least I have some space to think about what it all means and how I feel about it before I confront her.
Grace texts to see what I’m up to. When I tell her that Blake and I are heading to the bookstore, she asks to come, too. There’s a new movie guide that she wants to order.
Black Flowers, White Lies Page 6