The Pretty One: A Novel About Sisters

by Lucinda Rosenfeld

  “We were already engaged.” She wept.

  “Well, maybe Dad wanted to have a”—it pained Olympia to have to use this phrase, but she couldn’t think of an alternative—“last hurrah before he tied the knot. It was the late sixties.”

  “Shirley Yu was an ugly slut who answered the phone!” cried Carol.

  “Carol, please,” murmured an agonized-sounding Bob, who was now standing in the corner.

  “I know, I know, women didn’t have the same opportunities back then. We were all basically glorified secretaries. That, or schoolteachers.” She laughed bitterly. “But she should have left my fiancé alone.” She paused, swallowed. “I’m sorry, of course, that she died a premature death.”

  “But not that sorry,” offered Olympia.

  “If the woman hadn’t died and left the child with no family, the child might not have felt compelled to come find us,” said Carol. “So I’m sorrier than you even know.” She blotted her eyes with an ancient Kleenex she must have located in some pocket.

  “Mom, the child is forty and has a name,” said Olympia.

  “Jennifer—fine.” She spit out the word as if it had cooties.

  Bob sheepishly touched his wife’s arm, and muttered, “Carol.”

  But Carol was having none of it. “Don’t touch me,” she said.

  “I just want you to know that I’ve been true to you ever since our wedding night.”

  “Maybe I’ll let you guys talk this out,” said Olympia, taking a step backward. There were some things that daughters didn’t ever want to hear their parents talk about.

  “Or we can never talk about it again,” said Carol.

  Bob looked helplessly from his wife to his daughter. And Olympia looked helplessly back. She wanted to feel angry at her father too. But she felt as sorry for him as she did for her mother (and herself). We’ve all made mistakes, Olympia thought: Who was she to judge? “Well, maybe you’ll feel differently at some later point,” she said to her mother.

  “I doubt it. Meanwhile, I still haven’t had lunch.” Apparently done with the topic, at least for now, Carol began to totter in the direction of the kitchen. “There must be something to eat in this house—”

  “Maybe Lola and I can do a big grocery shop before we leave,” offered Olympia.

  “In the meantime, I can order us some pork lo mein from New China,” Bob said, tagging after her. “Or I can pick up a carton of eggs and some English muffins. Whatever you’d like.”

  “I’d like you to be honest with me!” cried Carol.

  “I am being honest with you. It was so many years ago, Coo-Coo,” said Bob, employing one of his affectionate old nicknames for his wife.

  “Don’t call me that…”

  Olympia let them go. Detouring to the living room, she was surprised to find Lola standing there. Upon closer viewing, Lola was using a nail scissors to cut up Carol’s copy of I, Claudius. Scores of tiny triangular paper scraps littered the floor. “I’m making confetti,” she explained. “For my birthday party.”

  There were crimes—and there were crimes. Olympia saw that now as she’d never seen it before. “Cool,” she said. “The only thing was—that was Grandma’s book. And it’s going to be a little hard to read now.”

  “Who was the lady at the door?” asked Lola.

  “Just an old friend of Grandpa’s,” Olympia replied, before removing the scissors from her daughter’s hand and placing them on a high shelf, out of reach.

  On further reflection, Olympia found the revelation about Jennifer Yu’s existence far too distressing to handle by herself. She needed her real sisters. That much was clear. It was also true that, while she prided herself on being the opposite of a gossip, even she had to admit there was something exciting about having explosive news to relay. Unfortunately, the only sister to whom she was currently speaking was Jennifer herself. Later that day, the two exchanged friendly if generic emails. “It was great to meet the Hellingers!” Jennifer wrote. “Great to meet you, too,” Olympia felt compelled to write back. But surely Gus and Perri needed to be notified about this major new development in the family. It seemed unlikely that Carol would provide them with an unbiased picture, or that Bob would provide them with any information at all. Olympia also saw that it was in her interest to tell them sooner rather than later. With any luck, the sensational revelation of Bob having sired a fourth daughter would dull the news that Olympia had picked Lola’s father out of a sperm bank catalogue.

  Even though Olympia felt betrayed by Gus, she decided to begin with her younger sister on the grounds that she was less likely to hang up on her. She waited until Lola, Bob, and Carol had all gone to sleep that night.

  Gus picked up on the first ring. “It’s Olympia,” she said quickly.

  “We’re using our full names now?” asked Gus, with a quick laugh.

  “In about five minutes, we’re not using any names,” said Olympia, inflamed all over again.

  “And why is that?” asked Gus.

  “Because you ratted on me to Perri, and I’m not actually speaking to you?” Olympia could feel her heart beating through her shirt. She’d always hated conflict. But she’d reached a point in her life where she wasn’t always able to repress her rage for the greater good.

  There was silence on the other end of the phone, then a long sigh. “She told you that I told her I saw you and Mike in the bathroom on Saturday night?”

  “Yes, in the bathroom at the same time. Big deal. I was upset about something, and he was trying to be nice. Whatever you think you saw, you’re wrong. So, how about minding your own business next time?”

  There a long sigh. As if the imposition had been on Gus. “I’m sorry, okay?” she finally replied. “She had me backed against a wall. If it’s any consolation, she’s furious at me, too, for telling Jeff about her South Beach fling.”

  “It’s no consolation at all, actually.” (Though in truth it was.)

  Suddenly there was a choking sob on the other end of the phone. “Ohmygod, now you both hate me!”

  “You should have thought of that before you went around blabbing,” said Olympia, unmoved.

  “You’re right, I should have. I’m sorry. I’ll never say anything again. It’s like my whole life is upside down, ever since Jeff walked into it. I don’t know what I’m doing. Even my clients are furious at me.”

  “So you’re blaming Jeff?”

  “I’m not blaming Jeff. I’m just—”

  “My heart bleeds for you.”

  “Pia, please!”

  “I’m actually calling about something else,” said Olympia.

  “You are?” There was a relieved-sounding sniffle on the other end of the phone.

  “A woman showed up in Hastings this afternoon looking for Dad.”

  “What kind of woman?”

  “That’s exactly what Dad asked.”

  “Well, what’s the answer?”

  “A woman named Jennifer Yu who says she’s Dad’s daughter from an earlier relationship. That’s the polite way of putting it. The less polite way is that Dad and Mom were already engaged at the end of nineteen sixty-eight, when Dad apparently thought it would be fun to go screw his secretary at Los Alamos.”

  “What?!”

  “So if the story pans out, we basically have another sister, who’s actually older than Perri by ten months.”

  “Holy crap,” gasped Gus, tears apparently forgotten. “Does Perri know?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, she’s going to freak. I mean, I’m freaked too. But whatever. I guess I’m not entirely surprised. All men are basically dogs. Right? I just happen to be dating one of them.” She laughed.

  “You’re right. Let’s make this about you,” said Olympia, anger returning.

  “I didn’t say it was about me!” said Gus. “I was just saying that it turns out Dad was kind of a dog, too.”

  “I guess. It was also forty-one years ago. Anyway. I have to go call Perri and tell her the news. T
hough thanks to you, she’ll probably hang up on me before I actually have a chance to tell her.”

  Gus sighed again. “Pia, I’m really, really sorry.”

  “Thanks—and go fuck yourself.” If Perri could use the f-word with Olympia, it seemed only fair that Olympia could hurl it at Gus. Gus had betrayed her. Olympia didn’t know if she could ever feel close to her again. She hung up the phone, knowing that the next call would be much harder.

  That Perri didn’t pick up the phone when Olympia called didn’t entirely surprise her. It didn’t displease her, either. At least Perri couldn’t hang up on a recorded message. Olympia took a deep breath and said, “I know we’re not speaking anymore because you mistakenly believe that I’m hot for your husband, but I thought you’d want to know that a woman just showed up in Hastings claiming to be our fourth sister. Call me if you want to hear details.”

  The phone rang approximately sixty seconds later. “Hello?” said Olympia, hoping against all reason for the near-instantaneous make-ups of her childhood, when the bitterest of tugs-of-war and screaming matches over toys and clothes would lead directly back to giggling camaraderie. Back then, nothing ever seemed to stick.

  “Excuuuuuuuse me?” was Perri’s opening line.

  Olympia proceeded to tell her older sister what she’d already told her younger one.

  “And why should I believe anything you say?” was Perri’s response.

  “So don’t believe me,” said Olympia.

  “Dad cheated on Mom? Our dad?”

  “They weren’t married yet. But they were engaged.”

  “Is this some kind of April Fools’ joke? Because if it is, I don’t see where you get off trying to be funny.”

  “I wish it was an April Fools’ joke,” said Olympia. “No such luck.”

  There was silence. Then Perri cried: “The philandering frigging bastard!” Perhaps realizing the hypocrisy of her complaining about straying spouses, she added, “That’s no way to start a marriage, engagement, whatever. If this is true, I’m never speaking to Dad again. And I’m never speaking to the ho’s daughter, either.”

  “Just like you’re not speaking to me?” ventured Olympia.

  “I’m only speaking to you because you called here leaving a message that our entire family is a lie. After I hang up, we’re going our separate ways for a long while. I’m honestly done with our relationship, done with your sabotaging and undermining, done with all of it.”

  “Whatever you want,” Olympia said dryly. As if her sister were just being difficult. As if it were all a big joke. But what if Perri wasn’t kidding, and this was it? What if the two of them were to be estranged forevermore, their daughters never to bury an American Girl Doll or Littlest Pet Shop Walrus again? Olympia saw the poverty of a life with no sisters. Yes, their endless calls and messages sometimes felt like a burden. But she’d also probably miss it bitterly if and when they stopped prying. “I was actually thinking that maybe you, Gus, and I could get together another day and talk about everything,” she said in a pained voice, figuring she had nothing left to lose.

  “You mean, talk about her—or us?” asked Perri.

  “Both, I guess,” said Olympia, encouraged. At least she hadn’t said “No.”

  “Sorry, not interested,” said Perri and abruptly hung up.

  Yet again, tears sprang to the corners of Olympia’s eyes. It was turning out to be the worst weekend of her life, even worse than the one when she and Patrick broke up. At least then she could say she had her family to be grateful for. She thought back to Perri’s parallel-parking lessons in late high school—how she’d barked instructions and withheld praise but nonetheless turned out to be an expert teacher. After failing her driver’s test two times, Olympia had finally passed.

  But thirty seconds later, the phone rang. It was Perri again. Had she had a change of heart? “Hey, it’s me,” she said gruffly.

  “You called back,” said Olympia, relieved.

  “No, it’s just someone who sounds exactly like me,” said Perri. It was a tone of voice that Olympia knew well from even before high school. (Perri might as well have just said “Duh.”) “And when exactly were you hoping to host this Sisters’ Summit?” she asked.

  “I guess that depends on when you’re coming back,” said Olympia, treading carefully.

  “I haven’t decided yet. Not that it’s any of your business!”

  “Well, let me know when you decide.”

  Perri cleared her throat. “I’ll probably be back midweek.”

  “So what about next Sunday for lunch?” asked Olympia. “Location t.b.d.”

  “I’ll do it on the condition that we discuss only the situation concerning this Jennifer person,” said Perri.

  “Fine. Should I invite her to join us later in the afternoon?”

  “Over my dead body!”

  “Okay, I’ll hold off. But for the record, she seemed pretty nice.”

  “Nice, my ass. What kind of woman shows up uninvited to someone’s home, claiming to be someone’s long-lost daughter! Is there no such thing as email? Never mind the U.S. Postal Service.”

  “In case you were curious, she’s a pediatric oncologist at the Mayo Clinic.”

  “Oncologists are a dime a dozen,” said Perri. “Plus, they all go into it for the money. Big Pharma showers millions in bogus speaking fees on those people for promoting their bullshit drugs.”

  “I didn’t know that,” said Olympia, allowing herself a brief smile. She’d been right. Big Sister wasn’t taking the Jennifer news very well.

  17

  ON EVERY AIRPLANE THAT Perri had ever boarded, she believed she’d die in a fiery crash. She considered that familiar line about air travel being safer than car travel to be bullshit: people could live through car crashes; falling out of the sky was another matter. And even if the chances were one in a million, who was to say that she wouldn’t be that one? After her Delta flight careened onto the tarmac at JFK and ground to a halt, Perri breathed a sigh of relief. Her second thought was that she hated men. It wasn’t just that her husband had come on to her sister, or that her would-be lover had made fun of her legs. It was that her father had lied to them all about the existence of a fourth daughter. Not for a minute did Perri believe that he had no knowledge of the pregnancy. When women were expecting, they couldn’t wait to tell the world.

  Her third thought—after alighting at the Delta terminal—was what a terrible impression the place surely made on foreign tourists who were arriving in the United States for the first time. The carpets were threadbare, the ceiling low, the light dim. Two sparrows glided across Perri’s field of vision, just beneath the ceiling, barely skimming the heads of several travelers. Really, it was an embarrassment. So was the fact that this woman who claimed to be the fourth Hellinger sister had apparently been the one to inherit their father’s love of science, rather than Gus, Olympia, or Perri herself. Perri would have had a perfect 4.0 in high school were it not for Chemistry, in which she’d received an ego-shattering B−, having had a mental block about the difference between hydrogen and helium…

  The taxi line stretched long and far. Waiting in it, Perri found herself so impatient with its glacial pace that she actually cut the old lady in front of her. Finally, she was at the head. “Larchmont,” she told the driver. But once in the car, she felt trepidation at the thought of returning home. Mike was so furious at her. And she was so furious at him. Whatever happened next, it was sure to be ugly. Despite her fears, however, Perri still had a need to “win the fight” which trumped all other emotions. On the ride home, she rehearsed her lines. Maybe she’d begin with “Whatever crimes I committed against you, at least I didn’t try to screw your brother!” But then he’d surely counter with “Yeah, but your other sister did.” So maybe the better approach was “We’re even now. Are you happy? Except what you did is so much worse.” He’d profess not to know what she was talking about, at which point she’d spring on him her knowledge of the shenanigans th
at had gone on in the kids’ bathroom Saturday night. And then what? They’d call divorce lawyers?

  An hour later, the taxi turned onto North Chatsworth. Perri glanced out the window. Fluffy little clouds interspersed with bright patches of blue had taken over a formerly overcast sky. She thought of cauliflower sitting untouched on Aiden’s dinner plate. The child hated all vegetables; there was no disguising them, either, not even in cakes and muffins as Jessica Seinfeld had advised in her ridiculous cookbook. As they rounded the corner onto Perri’s block, the sun peeked out from behind the scrim, lending her home an enchanted glow that made it look like an illustration in a children’s book.

  The taxi snaked up the driveway, then came to a stop behind the Lexus. The driver removed Perri’s three suitcases from the trunk. (She’d never seen the point of packing lightly.) She paid the man, and he sped off. Ring the bell or use her key? That was the next question. It was Tuesday, Mike’s day at home with Noah, and she fully expected that father and son would be home from music class by now and preparing for Noah’s nap. For dramatic effect, and so as not to scare everybody, Perri decided to ring the bell.

  To her surprise and relief—or was it disappointment?—her nanny answered the door. “Dolores!” Perri cried. “I didn’t know you were working today.”

  “Mr. Mike has to go to the city,” she said. Dolores had the habit of calling all adults by their first names, then attaching a “Mr.” or “Mrs.” She also had an overfondness for the present tense. Then again, she was bilingual, and Perri wasn’t. So who was Perri to make fun of her English? “Noah, your mama is home,” she called into the kitchen.

  “Mommy!” cried Noah, appearing in the hall and rushing toward her on his short legs.

  At the sight of him, Perri felt her chest collapsing around her heart. Scooping Noah into her arms and holding him close, she wondered how she could ever have gotten on a plane without him. She also wondered how such an ogre as her husband could have played a role in the creation of such a heavenly creature—never mind one who looked exactly like him. “I’m sorry I’ve been away,” she told him. “I missed you so much.”