“Your name? What is your name, child?”
The look on her face makes me take a step back. “Mia?”
“Mia,” she whispers before covering her mouth with both her hands. “You’re Mia?”
I nod.
“Clary, who is it?”
My breath catches as the woman who gave birth to me speaks from behind the woman with the dishtowel. She’s in a bright red dress with heels of all things as she walks across the living room toward me. She’s beautiful. No wonder Dad was so smitten with her. When she sees me, her perfect eyebrows raise and she touches her lips with her manicured nails as her eyes grow wide. We stare at each other, a million questions running through my head, none of which I’m ready to ask.
The girl who answered the door comes running in the room and stands next to Carmen, a question in her eyes. “Mama?”
“Dejame un momento.” She touches the girl’s hair, her eyes never leaving mine. The girl glances at me once before going in the other room.
“Carmen, this is—”
Carmen glances at her sister. At least, I think it’s her sister. My aunt. “I know who this is, Ana. Could you give us a moment please?”
Ana gives me a fleeting look before retreating into the other room.
To say the tension in the room is super awkward is an understatement. This woman, my mother, is not some happy, kind person. I can tell how cold she is by the way she carries herself. Not smiling, stiff, no feeling in her dark eyes. So different than what I imagined. As I look at her up close, I can see hard lines in her features, making her look older than I originally thought. Like she’s been through her share of hardships.
“Have a seat, Mia,” Carmen says. She gestures toward a flowery couch, but I don’t move. I can’t believe she’s just standing there staring at me. You’d think she’d rush over to me, wrap me in a hug, and apologize for leaving me so many years earlier. But she doesn’t. She walks calmly past me and sits on the couch, her hands folded neatly in her lap, waiting for me to do the same.
After standing there like an idiot, I turn around and sit on the couch facing her.
I don’t know where to look. Anywhere but at her, I’m thinking. So I settle on the floor. Or, I guess her shoes. Her red heels, which I swear are taller than me.
“Did your father send you to find me?” Her voice is low. Quiet. Kind of intimidating.
“No!” I answer too quick, but at least it’s the truth. I take a deep breath, trying to keep my cool. “No. He didn’t even know I was coming.”
She nods. “How is he? Your father.”
“He’s good. Really good. Married and happy.”
She nods again, not saying a word. So much nodding.
The silence is overwhelming. Crushing, actually. This reunion is not going well at all. It’s nothing like I imagined it would be. It’s nothing like any reunion with a long-lost parent should be. And I want to cry. But instead of doing that, I cut right to the chase. She seems like she’s a blunt person, so I hurry and tell her why I’m here. “Look. Carmen.” I say her name and it sounds so foreign coming off my tongue that I shake my head when it comes out. “The reason I’m here is because of Maddy.”
“Oh?”
“She’s dying.”
I expect her to react. To do anything other than sit there. To show some degree of emotion I craved from a mother as a child. But she does nothing but disappoint me. Her dark eyes search me over and she sweeps her dark hair behind her shoulder. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She has kidney failure. I thought I could donate one of mine to her, but I’m not a match. I was wondering …” I trail off. How do I put this into words without sounding like I want to use her for her kidneys? “I was wondering if there was any way you could …”
“Let me guess. You want me to donate one of my kidneys to her?”
The way she says it makes my whole body tense. Calm, but clipped and annoyed. “Yes.”
She sits there a moment, staring at her hands. Then she looks at me. Something like regret flashes across her face, but it’s gone just as fast. “You know, I didn’t want to leave you girls when you were little. I was young. I was scared. Scared to be a mother and give up the next twenty or so years to raising you.”
I stare at her and wait for her to speak again. She doesn’t. So I do. “But you left us anyway.”
She hesitates, but nods. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. I was happy with one child. You were a good baby. Not too overwhelming. But when Maddy was born? I couldn’t handle it. I was going to take you with me and just leave Maddy.”
My heart feels like it’s being torn out of my chest. What would have happened if I never had Maddy to grow up with? I can’t imagine.
“But I didn’t have money to get us both back across the country to my family. Besides, your father was smitten with both of you. He thought it best to leave you together.”
I’ve never loved Dad more than I do at this very moment. Bless that man.
“I’m sorry. I really am, but it was for the best. And we’ve been fine living our separate lives all these years. All of us moving on. Leaving the past in the past and not worrying about old mistakes.”
Mistakes. So that’s all Maddy and I are to her. Mistakes. I frown. “But Maddy’s disease isn’t in the past. It’s happening right now.”
She sighs. “I’m not her mother anymore, Mia. I didn’t raise her at all. I know I gave birth to her, but she never called me mom.”
“But I did.” She opens her mouth, then closes it again. “Or did you forget that I was three when you left? Do you know how many nights I cried for my mother and you never came?”
“You can’t remember that. You were too young.”
“Yes. I was young when you left. But Dad can remember every single moment of those few years.”
She sighs. “Mia, there are things … I just—”
“I had anxiety attacks as a child. I still have them. They started a few weeks after you left me.” I stare at the wall, not her. “But you wouldn’t know that, because you never called. Did you know Maddy is the kindest person you’ll ever have the privilege of meeting? Of course you don’t know that. You would know things about us if you at least tried. Tried to get to know your own daughters. You would know I love listening to music and how well I play the piano. You would know how much I love to watch the lightning and listen to the thunder when it rains. You would know I’m on my school’s soccer team. That I would give my life for my sister. Because she’s family.
I meet her eyes, but she shakes her head.
“But you wouldn’t know that because you didn’t care enough to check up on me. No phone calls. No letters. Nothing.” I don’t mean to start talking about me, but it just comes out. All the twisted feelings I’ve had since getting here, being in the same city as the woman who left me, are pouring out and I can’t stop them. It’s terrifying and liberating at the same time.
“Mia …”
I change the subject. “That girl. The one who answered the door. She’s your daughter, isn’t she?” I stare hard at her, daring her to look away. She stares back at me, and after a second gives a slight nod. “How old is she?”
“Thirteen.”
I let that sink in. I have a half sister. I’ve had one all these years and never knew. “Do I have any other siblings I don’t know about floating around in the world somewhere?”
She shakes her head. “No. I just have Clarissa.”
“And her dad?”
She shakes her head. “Not important. Not anymore.”
So she loved him and left him, too, I assume. Makes sense, considering her history with Dad. “Well, I’m glad you realized she was important enough for you to keep.”
“That’s not fair.”
“And abandoning your first two daughters is?”
She bites her lip and looks at her watch like she’s in a hurry to be somewhere. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“You did have a choic
e. You had three people in your life who loved you. You could have taken us with you. Dad would have gone with you. We could have been a family.”
She’s shaking her head before I even finish. “Your Dad and I were having problems before you were born. It’s a miracle we lasted as long as we did. We disagreed over a lot of things. Too many things.”
“Obviously.” I’m not sure what to think of this new information, though. Dad’s never really talked about it, but wouldn’t he tell me they fought a lot? Maybe he wanted to spare me the details. Now I kind of wish he’d told me. It would have prepared me a little more for what she had to say.
Something sits in the back of my mind and I bite my lip before I say it. I have to know. “Did you ever think about us? At all?”
She hesitates, twisting her hands in her lap. “I’ll admit I did at times. I do regret what I did back then, but so many years have gone by. I’ve moved on. Your father has moved on. You’ve moved on.”
“But if you could do something to save your daughter’s life after all these years, would you do it?”
“I told you before. She’s not my daughter.”
“But—”
“I might have been a mother to you once, and I’m sorry for all the pain I caused you, but I was never a mother to Madison. I held her once. We didn’t bond. There was no connection between us. I was never a mother to her at all. She’s a stranger to me and she has no recollection of me either. I don’t owe her anything.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Tears sting my eyes, and I fight to keep them from spilling over. I don’t realize I’m standing until I’ve taken a step toward her. “She’s your daughter. Your blood. No matter what you say, she’s your family!”
She stands. “She’s your family.” She gives me a sad smile. “I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing.”
It takes me a second to recover from the crushing blow of rejection, but I gather my wits and let my anger take over. “I’m glad I came. Now I know I can throw away that stupid birthday card you sent me when I was three years old. I can sleep at night knowing you’ve been raising another daughter without any thought of your other two miles and miles away.” I clench my fists. “Do you have any idea how much your daughter looks like Maddy? What would you do if she were in the same position?”
She frowns. “I’d give my life to save hers.”
“But you won’t give a kidney to save Maddy.”
She stares at me a long time before looking away and walking toward the door. “I’m sorry.” As she reaches for the handle, my temper finally breaks.
“No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you turned out to be exactly what I thought you were. Heartless and cold, not caring about anyone but yourself. Dad was right. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Mia.”
I push past her. “Don’t bother letting me out. I’ve done just fine my entire life without any help from you.” I don’t look at her again. All I can do is open the door, let myself out, and slam it shut.
Jax stands on the landing at the top of the steps, waiting for me. I stand there, breathing hard, my eyes filling with tears. He tries to reach out, but I push his hand away and start down the stairs.
“Mia,” he says.
A sob escapes my throat. “Don’t!”
I hear him following me, but I don’t stop. I run. I push the apartment door open and take off down the street, tears blurring my vision. I have no idea where I’m going, no idea what I’m going to do now.
I failed.
“Mia, stop!” Jax yells as he catches up with me. He grabs my arm, pulling me to a stop. I pull away.
“Take me back to the hotel.”
“Mia, what—”
“Please! I just have to get out of here.” I wipe my angry tears away and force myself to calm down, staring hard at the sidewalk.
Before I know it, he’s called a cab.
When it pulls up, he opens the door for me and I climb in. He gets in after me.
“Are you okay?” he asks after he tells the cabby where to go.
“No.”
He doesn’t say anything, just reaches over and finds my hand. I take it. It’s comforting. But I don’t want to talk yet. And he doesn’t push me,
He squeezes my hand to let me know he’s there as I find myself staring out the window at nothing, saying nothing as we head back to my borrowed hotel room, all the while thinking two things:
Carmen was Maddy’s last hope, and she won’t help us.
My beautiful baby sister is going to die.
CHAPTER 22
The music flows freely, pulses through her veins
A haunting melody, bound in chains.
Her fingers glide over black and white keys
A song chilling the soft, warm breeze
—J.S.
I’m surprised it’s not raining. Isn’t it supposed to rain during the climax of a story?
But this isn’t a story. This isn’t a dream. All of this … This nightmare of epic proportions. It’s real. So real, in fact, that I can’t figure out what is happening to me.
I’ve been lying on the couch, curled in a ball, for hours. I haven’t cried again. Not since before Jax called that cab. I’ve heard nothing from my family, nothing from Jax since he dropped me off at my room after I told him I needed to be alone. Which was stupid. I don’t want to be alone. But I guess, sometimes, it’s good to be alone for a while.
All I do is stare out the huge window, wondering where everything went wrong. My sister is going to die. She’s going to die and there’s nothing I can do about it. I knew it could happen but didn’t think it would. I always had hope. Now I have to face the fact that there’s nothing left for her unless she moves to the top of the donor list. But it’s unlikely that will happen. What will I do without Maddy? What will I do when I walk past her room and realize she’ll never be practicing her violin again or begging me to watch some celebrity news show with her? Who will I talk to when I’m having a bad day or when I finish a good book and need to gush about it with someone?
It’s a lot to take in. A lot to think about. I don’t want to think about it.
My stomach growls. I haven’t had dinner, but I can’t bring myself to do anything but lie here.
I jump as someone knocks on my door. I lie there a moment longer but finally make myself stand before I shuffle over to the door. I glance out the peephole and see Jax.
I hesitate only a second before I open the door.
I must look like a complete freak show. He doesn’t seem to notice, however, as he closes the distance between us and wraps me in a hug.
That’s when the tears come.
He doesn’t push me into telling him what happened at Carmen’s. No flowers to try to cheer me up. No sappy text messages to check up on me. He’s just here. He came to see if I was alright, even after I told him I didn’t need anyone.
But I do need him. I need someone to tell me everything is going to be alright, even though I know it’s not.
I pull away. “I’m so sorry about yelling at you. You probably think I’m the worst person ever.” I wipe tears away, but they keep coming.
“No. I was beginning to worry you were too perfect. You have real emotions like a real human. It’s good to let it all out.” He gestures to the room. “Mind if I come join you for a while? I don’t want you to be alone anymore.”
All I can do is nod before bursting into tears.
I expected Jax to leave me a long time ago. I’ve heard that guys aren’t sure what to do when a girl cries, and I’m sure chasing down a furious, sobbing girl on the streets of Queens brought more attention to him than he would have liked. From Jax and the cabby, and the people standing around on the street that witnessed my breakdown …
It wasn’t pretty.
Yet, here he sits on the bright red couch in his fancy hotel room he let me stay in, his arm around my shoulders as I cry into his soaking wet shirt.
I don’t know how long it’s been and I don’t ca
re. All the emotions that I’ve kept bottled up for the last however many years are finally coming out. And I can’t seem to get a hold of myself and stop them.
Why do we have to cry when we’re sad? It’s the one thing I can’t wrap my head around. And where does sadness even come from? Why does it have to be so extreme? So consuming? Because the emotions I’m experiencing right now feel like they’re going to swallow me up and never let me go. Maybe that’s why we cry. To let all the emptiness and pain out through our tears so we have room to bottle up new feelings and emotions until they’re ready to break again.
I don’t know. The truth is, I hate it.
For some reason, though, it does feel good to let everything out. I haven’t cried in forever. Not like this. I can’t remember the last time I cried like this. When did everything in my life became too much for me to handle? How did I come to feel so … helpless?
I expected the weirdness from Carmen. After all, abandoned children don’t just show up on their wannabe super model parent’s doorsteps every day. But what I didn’t expect was to feel so empty. Carmen basically shunned me. What’s stupid is I should have expected it. She did leave us, after all. And Dad warned me multiple times that she wouldn’t care. But I expected a little more … empathy? More feelings? A hug? A pat on the back? Anything! But no. She’s exactly the woman Dad said she was. She doesn’t care.
And part of me is happy I know that now. I can at least have some closure on the whole thing. And I’m so glad Maddy wasn’t here with me. She wouldn’t have handled it as well as I did. As if me sobbing hysterically for hours on end is handling it well.
Maybe I’ll feel better if I yell at someone. Or punch something. But I don’t. Instead, I cuddle against Jax, listen as he books me a flight home, wipe my sore, puffy eyes with my bare, now wet arm, and let out a slow breath. “Okay. I think … I’m done.”
Interlude Page 14