by CORY CYR
“I could lose my job for telling you this, since you know how strict our hospital rules are concerning privacy,” she said. Quinn nodded in agreement. Shea looked at me and I looked at Trina. We all appeared to be bewildered.
Celia unbuttoned the top button of her collared shirt and I noticed she had perspiration on her upper lip. There was no doubt what she had to say was making her not only uncomfortable but extremely nervous.
“Trina, Andrew, I’m your Aunt—your father’s sister,” she revealed, and I looked across the table at a stunned Trina. Next to me, Shea’s face appeared vacant. “I knew everything that was going on. Your mother and I have been friends, as well as confidants, for years. She always came to me whenever my brother was out of control.” Celia reached over and grabbed the pitcher of water to pour a glass. As she took a sip she continued. “Mitch was always mean—it was the way we grew up. Even after our parents died, he continued drinking heavily. I had hoped when he and your mom got together he would change, and it did get better until he had that accident. Then between the pain medication and his drinking, it got worse. Your father had everything and yet he chose to ruin it by drinking and beating your mom—and you, Andrew. I know about it all.” Celia took another sip then removed a tissue from one of the drawers.
“You say you knew what our father was doing? Why in the hell didn’t you do something?” Trina shook her head as she glared at Celia in outrage.
Shea was squeezing my hand so tightly it was beginning to hurt. I filled a glass with water and pushed it towards him. I laid my hand on his lap as he let go of my hand to reach for the glass.
“It’s complicated. Your mother begged me not to interfere because there was a lot at stake, and in all reality, it was a mess.”
Trina’s eyes were tight with anger as her voice shook. “You knew that my father was beating my brother, and you did nothing? What kind of nurse are you? What kind of person are you? He almost killed my brother when Andrew was trying to save my mother. I don’t believe this shit!” Trina spit out the words with a clear distaste for Celia. Quinn placed his hand on Trina’s arm, trying to relay some comfort.
Celia’s face went red as her eyes teared up. “I knew, God help me, I knew. It tormented me. I knew that one day it would all come crashing down. I begged Evie to take you kids and leave but she was too afraid.” Celia stopped talking and stared at Trina and Shea. “Your mom had secrets.”
At that point, I was prepared to bolt out of my chair and run down to the car. I couldn’t take any more secrets, especially since I too was harboring a big one. Shea must have felt my urgency because he very slowly put his arm around me, making sure I couldn’t go anywhere. He looked at me, trying to cajole a smile. I couldn’t imagine what hearing all this was doing to him. I knew he had come to terms with his past, but I’m sure he never expected this.
“Before I give you the file, I have to explain—try to make you understand. I know your mom’s a mess right now. I called her now and then, and judging from our last conversation, I knew it was time. Your mother had called me right after Christmas and she told me about you and Andrew.” Celia looked at me, then at Shea. I didn’t understand it but I was mildly embarrassed that Evie had told someone I didn’t know about our relationship. “I knew than it was time to get all this out in the open,” she said, as she stared right at me. “I am so sorry, when I found out that you and Andrew were coming in to be DNA tested for siblings, I knew . . . I had to tell you the truth. I have kept this bottled up for thirty years, and I had hoped that your mother would eventually tell you everything, but she’s still in some kind of denial—some kind of world she created for herself, and I don’t think she’ll ever be well enough to ever realize what she has done or even admit to it.”
“I knew your dad, Ryan. Riley was a good man and a kind man. I’m not really sure how he got the information that was in the letter you received, but whatever he was told was a lie. I’m pretty sure your mom told him what she wanted to believe, or maybe it was what she thought he wanted to hear, but I have no doubt she let loose those lies immediately when she found out how ill he was. You have to understand . . . I think she believed in the life she wanted but could never have, to the point that it had become her reality.” Celia paused and took another drink, her face filled with remorse as she looked at Trina and Shea. “The truth is that your mother loved Riley. She had loved him for years.” I broke free of Shea’s arms and sat there, shell-shocked. This was different from when I thought they had an affair and Shea was the result. Shea’s mom had actually loved my dad.
“Did my dad—did he love her?” I asked, stumbling over my words.
“I think maybe he did . . . to be honest I never knew him all that well, but from what I did know, it seemed to me he cared for her very much, and he loved you kids. He was a decent man. I have no idea why she would tell him that Andrew was his son. I thought maybe it was a combination of her mental state and her grief, but now I think it’s her own personal reality. Maybe she wanted to give him something special as he passed, but we’ll never know because your mother is too ill now. All of this started long before Andrew,” she said, her eyes lifting towards Trina, then to me. “Andrew isn’t your sibling. Trina is.”
I looked at Trina, and instantly I knew it was true. As she stared back at me, I suddenly recognized the look she gave me as one I’d seem many times on my dad’s face. Shea’s face paled and Quinn appeared stunned. I think all us were trying to comprehend the situation.
“I know this comes at a complete shock—” Trina stopped Celia in mid-sentence.
“This doesn’t make sense. Did my father know? There’s no way he could have known . . . he always treated me like a princess and my mom and Andrew like trash. I don’t get it, help me understand, Aunt. . . Celia,” Trina spit out, shaking, trying to hold back a sob.
Celia looked like a ghost, all the color drained from her face. “Your mom lied. God forgive me, I wish I had intervened. Your father never questioned your birth, and I’m positive she never told Riley about you. Years later, when your dad would get violent, he’d force himself on her, and she had no intention of bringing another child into the hell that you were suffering, so I guess it came to a point that if your dad wanted sex, he’d have to get a vasectomy. I remember that day like it was yesterday, and the hospital staff talked about it for months.”
“Your dad came in for the vasectomy—drunk out of his mind. There was no way any doctor was going to perform an outpatient procedure on someone as intoxicated as he was. So he never had one, and I believe—I have absolutely no doubt—that your father, my brother, forgot, and as far as he was concerned, he remembered getting a vasectomy.”
“Oh my God,” I said, covering my mouth with my hand trying not to scream. Images were blasting me in my head about Shea’s childhood and the abuse he went through, just because of his mother’s lie. The emotional pain I felt coursed through my body as I grabbed Shea’s hand. At this moment, I wanted to devastate someone’s life, be it Celia, Shea’s mother or maybe even my father. There was enough of hatred to go around.
“When your mom was pregnant and Andrew was born, my brother had made up his mind that Evie had cheated on him. He didn’t know with whom she had the affair, but the way he spoke to me on the phone made me afraid for your mom. In his alcoholic haze, his memory was so unclear that he could barely recall any intimacy with your mom. I should have spoken up, but I was too scared of my brother, and too afraid of what would happen to you, Trina. My brother had no idea that Andrew really was his son.”
A snarl left my mouth as I launched myself across the table. Celia, taken by surprise, backed her chair up as Shea grabbed me around the waist, trying to pull me back.
“You have every right to hate me. I will always carry the burden what I’ve done or what I didn’t do . . . I not only betrayed your mother’s confidence, but I betrayed you two as well, and I’ll have to live with both of those betrayals,” Celia confessed, her head hung in shame.
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“There is no way we are confronting my mom,” Shea said, trying to stand up as he grabbed the edge of the table. His expression looked bleak and his lips were pressed together tightly.
“What the fuck do you mean? After what’s she’s done to you . . . oh my God, Shea, look what was done to you because of her.” I exclaimed as I allowed him to push me back into my seat. My eyes fell to Trina. “How am I supposed to put my feelings into perspective? Your mom lied to my dad when he was dying, so he never got to really know his other daughter, and he died thinking you were his son.” I looked away from Trina because I knew I would start crying.
“Too much has already happened. We can’t change the past, and my mom is . . . well, she’s a mess. Confronting her isn’t going to change the past; it’s only going to make the present worse. She’s mentally unstable and an alcoholic, and you heard what Celia just said . . . I doubt she’d even understand what she’s done.” Shea exhaled deeply and reached over the table, snatching the file from Celia. “You know what? This is too much to absorb right now, so I think we all need to step back from this.”
“Those are the copies of everything. I want you to have them because I can’t sit on the truth anymore. What almost happened to you and Ryan was a wakeup call. I wish I had done this years ago, but I was too afraid of the repercussions. Now, I’m almost sixty-five, and I don’t care what happens to me. I only wish I could have been there for you both, but I allowed my brother to have control of my life, and by the time he was dead I knew it was too late—that there was no way I could be your family and live with the guilt I was carrying. I’m sorry for all of it.”
“We don’t plan to tell anyone about this. It seems to me nothing would be gained by revealing any of this,” Quinn said, standing up. “I’m thinking we could all some food and retrospect about now.”
Shea and Trina stood up also but my body seemed too paralyzed to move. I was trying to wrap my head around what we were just told. My dad never knew about Trina, and he thought Shea was his son. What kind of an evil mother does that? I could see Evie wanting to protect Trina from the abuse, but why didn’t she just tell my dad about her? He could have protected all of them. Regardless of the problems my dad and I had, he would have never abandoned Trina or Shea. If Evie had done the right thing, Shea would have never had to endure so much abuse.
I could only imagine what he was thinking, now that he knew his mother could have saved him from the abuse. And Trina? We’re sisters. I mean, we’d been best friends for years, but sisters? Thinking about it now, she did have some subtle features of my dad. I never paid attention to them, but they’re clear as day now. How had my dad not realized that Trina was his daughter? I pushed my chair back, getting up to follow them out the door.
Shea reached down and pressed a kiss to my bite marks, then put my hand in his. I was struggling with all these new developments and emotions, I had been so prepared to be devastated by the test results, and now I wasn’t sure what my feelings were. I looked over at Trina as we got into the elevator. There was an uncomfortable feel to the air. No one knew how to act with these new revelations. Shea and I weren’t related, he and Trina were half siblings, and Trina and I were half-sisters.
“After all the drama of today, why don’t I take all of us out to lunch and discuss what just happened?” Quinn said to Shea and me while we walked through the parking lot.
Shea pulled me close to him. “If it’s okay, I think we just want to go home.” He paused, looking down at me.” I think we all need some time to absorb all this crap. It’s been a hard week—for all of us.”
“No problem, I get it. We’ll drop you off and maybe in a day or two we can all get together for dinner,” Quinn offered, helping Trina into the car. I was worried because Trina hadn’t said one word. Not that I would expect her to be very talkative after the shock of finding out that my dad was her dad too. I wished I knew what to say.
“After the dust settles, we really need to discuss everything as a family,” Quinn said, “and we need to decide exactly what we should do regarding your mother. It’s obvious she’s been ill for a lot longer than you thought, and since Ryan’s dad passed on, her mental health has declined even further. I think it’s dangerous for her to be living alone, and it would be an emotional a hardship for both you and Andrew, especially in light of what we just heard,” Quinn advised as he kissed Trina’s hand.
“I agree with you, man. Sitting on this for a couple of days would be a good thing. We all need to regroup,” Shea replied, sliding into the backseat with me. “I just want to get home and spend some time with my woman.”
Quinn took us straight home. Shea unlocked the front door, stepping aside so I could go in first. Being home after a week almost felt foreign to me. The house was warm, quiet and clean. The mess I had left had been cleaned up and everything was in its place.
“Are you hungry, baby?” he asked, tossing his house keys on the dining room table as he headed into the kitchen.
“No, not really, but I’m really tired, and I think I’ll go lie down,” I mumbled as I dragged myself upstairs to my bedroom, our bedroom. The last week had been torture, and I felt displaced. Confusion filled my mind about Shea and Trina, but I was too mentally fatigued and physically whipped to sort it out. I sat on the bed and removed Trina’s boots. I needed to unwind so I decided to take a bath. As I went to the closet to grab some clean clothes, I heard the bedroom door creak open. I turned to see Shea leaning against the doorframe.
“I thought you were taking a nap,” Shea said in a quiet voice, his arms crossed.
With a pair of yoga pants and a sweater in my hands, I moved towards him. “I was, but then I decided I wanted a hot bath.” As I passed him, he gently grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks.
“I need to know we’re okay. I’m dying here, baby, with the semi-silence and not being able to read you. I can feel the distance and even though it’s only been a week, it feels like a month. I know we have a lot to talk about, but I need you to let me in.”
I could hear the uneasiness in his voice. I wasn’t the only one that had gone through hell in the last week; he had too, and on top of it, he had to be having some serious thoughts running through him concerning his mom. It occurred to me that I was being selfish—Shea had to be emotionally devastated, and I wasn’t the only one in need of comfort.
I pulled him towards the bathroom. “Take a bath with me.”
Once inside, I immediately turned on the water and added some lavender bath crystals. As we both stood there, watching the tub fill up, I turned around to face Shea. I motioned him to sit on the toilet seat. Our eyes locked as I bent down to remove his shoes and socks, and I noticed, much to my chagrin, that he too looked fragile and somewhat sad. I helped him pull his sweater over his head. My eyes dilated as they looked hungrily at his chest. I wanted so much to touch him, to taste him, but right now was not about sexual gratification. When he stood, I could see his hands trembling as he took my sweater off and then unzipped my pants, leaving me only in my bra and panties. I gazed into the mirror as I clipped up my hair. He was so close to me I could feel his breath on my shoulders.
Shea turned to shut off the faucet as I got the towels from the cabinet. I noticed he had begun to take off his pants and I stopped him. I wanted to do it. As I tentatively began to unbutton his jeans, I heard a quiet hiss from him. I felt his arm going around me as he unclasped my bra and it fell to the floor the same time as his jeans. We stared at each other as we pulled off our remaining garments. Once we were both naked, Shea stepped into the tub first. Once he was seated, he reached out for my hand, pulling me into him, and I sat down between his legs with my back to him.
As I leaned back into his chest, I could hear a deep, shuddering breath coming from him. He grabbed a loofah and began sponging off my neck and back. I felt my breasts tighten, and my nipples went taut as the loofah slipped down to the crack of my ass. I could feel his steely length prodding my backside, causing a soft moan
to escape my lips. Shea’s hands reached around me as he lathered my neck and chest, his thumb casually grazing my right nipple. I leaned all the way back, tipping my head up to look at him, and he stared back at me, his iridescent blue eyes filled with raw need.
We stayed in the bathtub until the water turned cool. He never attempted to touch me intimately. I could sense an apprehension on his part, afraid I might push him away. He had no idea how much I wanted him—needed him. As much as he desired to reaffirm our relationship, I wanted him to take me, possess me, mark me . . . he needed to reclaim me.
Shea stood up, pulling me up with him. He reached over and grabbed the towel from the sink, wrapping it around me. He helped me out of the tub and I watched as he toweled himself off—the beads of water that traversed the planes of his chest as he wiped down his body riveted me. I stood there, transfixed by the glorious sight until my roving eyes fell upon his cock—it was distended and reached up to his navel, and the head was fully engorged and flushed from the rush of blood, highlighting the prominent vein that ran the length of his shaft. I sucked in a breath when waves of heat and moisture flooded my sex, and I could barely stop myself from reaching out to touch him. I almost cried when he wrapped his towel around his waist, looking at me apologetically for sporting an erection.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I feel like I haven’t been inside you for so long,” he said, rubbing his hand over his chin.
“It’s alright. I’m having the same feelings, even if mine aren’t as obvious as yours,” I said looking down at his tented towel. I went to slip on my underwear and yoga pants.
“Don’t,” he said as he made me drop my clothes and took my hand, leading me into the bedroom. “Is it wrong that I don’t care about anything right now but being inside of you? I know I should be pissed, incensed and probably slightly crazy, but all I want to feel right now is you. I don’t give a damn about anything else.”
We both stood there next to the bed in damp towels. I couldn’t take any more of the emptiness I felt. I needed to be filled . . . I needed to be loved. I fell to my knees, pulling Shea’s towel as I went down. When I touched him his cock felt so hot, and I could almost sense his physical ache, because I felt it too. My core was throbbing and I was drenched. I let my tongue trace around the crown and his groan was music to my ears. As I licked his entire length, I ran my hands up and down his muscle thighs, stopping to let my fingers linger on his balls and caress his sack.