A Lie for a Lie

by Robin Merrow MacCready

  “I’ve seen this before,” Mimi said, sipping her chardonnay.

  Mom joined us at the sliding glass door. “Mmm, yes, déjà vu all over again.” She blew out a breath and flopped into a chair. “Well, I guess all we can do is wait it out.”

  “What? What’s going on?” I asked. Mom and Mimi exchanged a look.

  “Your mom and I have seen one too many arguments start during the devil’s trifecta: brothers, football, and drinking.”

  “And then throw their mother’s funeral into the mix. Oh my god,” my mother said, rubbing her forehead. “Let’s just hope they keep their heads.”

  We heard a faint “Asshole!” come from out back.

  “Want to see what kinds of desserts we have?” Mimi said.

  The three of us raced one another to the kitchen and loaded our plates with cheesecake, cookies, mini pies, and other gooey offerings. We sat in the living room groaning in pleasure, sharing wordless bites, all the while keeping tabs on the game.

  Then Aunt Mimi stood and put her hand on her hip and shook her head.

  “What is it?” Mom asked.

  “Steve and John are into it. It’s started.”

  Dad and Uncle Steve were standing in the middle of the lawn. Dad had the ball under his arm and was waving his other arm around.

  “It’s none of your goddamned business, Steven!”

  “Think about what you’re doing for—” Uncle Steve tried to talk, but he had to keep stopping because Dad was yelling so much. I ran to the kitchen and got my camera. I don’t think this is what Mom and Dad meant when they asked me to document the extended-family gathering. I snapped a picture just as Dad yelled, “But I’m not doing anything wrong!”

  When I got back, Uncle Steve was looking at the ground and his face was red, and with one final burst he pointed his finger and gritted his teeth and said a few choice words. Dad threw down the ball in a way that reminded me of Jilly and her life jacket.

  Snapshot.

  “Let’s do the dishes,” Mom said. She scooped up some dirty plates; Mimi did the same, and I followed suit. In the kitchen the dishwasher was already roaring, so we put them in the sink.

  “Do you think they’d notice if we went to bed?” Mimi asked.

  “Probably not,” Mom said. They both laughed at this.

  “Do you think they’d notice if we went out?” Mimi asked.

  “No driving,” I said, trying to sound gruff.

  They giggled like two teenagers and hung up their aprons. Definitely the wine talking. I picked up Mom’s dishrag and dried while she and Aunt Mimi bonded with the wine. It was nice to see Mom laughing, but I suddenly felt sad. Here I was in Grandma’s house, feeling her presence everywhere, smelling the special Grandma smell, a blend of lavender and mothballs—which doesn’t sound nice, but it is—and she was gone. I felt her, but she was gone.

  I was worried about forgetting her, and her thick white hair and blue eyes. What if the memories of her driving me to school and walking me to my classroom were forgotten? She didn’t just do it as a chore for Mom and Dad; she sat in the back of the classroom when I could barely make it through the day.

  And her cup custard. I’d never have that again.

  I spent the rest of the night by the pool with my feet in the water while I jotted down moments and recipes I never wanted to forget.

  In the morning it was Uncle Steve and Aunt Mimi and Mom and Dad by the pool, but I was the only one actually eating breakfast.

  “What time is the funeral?” I asked.

  Dad cleared his throat and took a sip of juice. “One o’clock,” he said. “We have the service at the church and then the burial at the Sullivan plot for immediate family only.”

  I noticed that Uncle Steve was tearing his bacon into tiny pieces. He stopped when he felt my stare and winked at me.

  Later, when I was putting our bags in the trunk of the car, he came up behind me and gave my ponytail a tug.

  “This sort of thing is loaded, you know?” he said, taking one of the bags from me.

  “Loaded?” I had an idea he was referring to the football game.

  “Your dad and I have a lot of history in this house, and your grandmother was a big part of it.” He shuffled his feet on the gravel driveway.

  “Of course,” I said.

  “He’s complicated. He’s smart, tough. He does what he thinks is right, and he’s really a good man. He never intends to hurt anyone.”

  My body froze, but my words flew out. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  “No, but your dad is—”

  I slammed the trunk shut. “I know. He’s complicated. That’s not an excuse for bad behavior.”

  Now we both froze. I had said too much. When I looked up, I saw compassion in Uncle Steve’s eyes. He opened up his arms and I fell into them.

  “Look, Kendra,” he said, holding me tightly, “whatever your dad’s done, I think you should give him a chance to explain.”

  I pulled back and looked at him. “You know about Gail Halstrom, don’t you?”

  He seemed relieved.

  “We were in an impossible situation.” He shook his head and paced in a small circle.

  “We? Mimi knew, too? Does Mom know?”

  “I’m so sorry, Kendra,” he said, reaching for me.

  “Stop.” I opened the car door, then changed my mind and started back toward the house, but Dad, Mom, and Mimi were coming down the walk. I looked at Uncle Steve. “Don’t tell anyone I know. This is one secret you should keep.”

  “This is so sad,” Mimi said. “Too soon.” She dabbed at her eyes as she headed to her car with Uncle Steve.

  Dad put his arms around my shoulders. “I’m coming back here after the burial, and you and Mom are going back to Maine. I have a lot to straighten out here at the house.” He kissed the top of my head and held the car door for me.

  I looked back at Grandma’s house and imagined her waving from the doorway. I closed my eyes and took a snapshot with my mind.

  CHAPTER 18

  It was a relief to cross the border and have Grandma’s funeral behind me. And I wasn’t disappointed Dad was staying behind. Welcome to Maine, The Way Life Should Be. Even though I’d always made fun of it before, I was happy to see the familiar sign. Soon I could smell the ocean, and the speeding traffic slowed as we drove past the beaches. In Kingsport the seawall was packed with tourists and sunbathers, beach umbrellas, and babies in carriages. Every once in a while I’d get a whiff of sunscreen and hear the yelp of a kid or a mom hollering. It all seemed so normal. Even Mom looked more comfortable now that we were back here. Tapping her manicured fingernail on the steering wheel, she sang along with the radio, and I didn’t make fun of her.

  Once we were in our driveway, Mom put the car in park and we threw our arms around each other in a silent hug. Grandma was gone. No words were necessary.

  Mom went into the house, but I stayed outside and texted Bo. From the driveway I could see his truck parked in his driveway.

  Me: Did you see my call?

  I got the bags from the trunk and my phone beeped.

  Bo: Yes

  Me: Yes, but you aren’t going to call back?

  Bo: Correct

  I dumped the bags in the upstairs hall and flopped on my bed with my arms over my eyes. I got why Bo was done with me, but what was going on with Will?

  I got my answer when I drove to the beach. Will was leaning into Nicole’s driver-side window. Were they just talking? Were they kissing?

  They’re just friends, Kendra.

  A car horn blared, and I looked up in time to slam on my brakes. My heart beat in my throat as I pulled over to the sidewalk and parked. I looked back, and Will and Nicole were watching me. He said something to her and crossed the street to my car.

  “You’re back,” he said, leaning in to kiss me.

  Relief poured over me, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into the car. “Get in here.”

  “Okay,
okay, let me go,” he said, extracting himself from my grip.

  He ran around the front of my car, surfer hair blowing around his laughing face. I’d been worried for nothing.

  “I thought you were going to kill someone,” he said, nodding toward the traffic.

  “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t paying attention. It’s been a hard few days.”

  He leaned into my neck and moaned. “I’ve missed the smell of your hair.”

  I turned my head, hoping Nicole saw him smelling my hair, but she was gone. “I missed you, too,” I said, pulling him close.

  “Are you coming out tonight?” he asked, reaching under my shirt.

  “Definitely.” I moved his hand to my back and tried to distract him with a kiss, but his hand crept under my shirt again.

  When I moved it away a second time, he said, “I’ve gotta be at work.” He fished in his pocket and got his keys.

  “Tonight,” I said, reaching through the window and squeezing his hand.

  “See if you can get more champagne,” he said.

  * * *

  I continued around the beach loop. The island was a silhouette against the late-June sunset. I sent Mom a text, telling her I was going to the movies. She replied that she was going to bed early anyway.

  I drove to Portland with my mind set on going to the brownstone if it looked empty. I drove with the music as loud as I could take it, ignoring the phone calls and texts that lit up my phone. The air was humid and heavy, so I closed the windows and turned on the AC and let my forehead cool. I parked and watched the windows for light or movement.

  After fifteen minutes of nothing happening, I went across the street and looked into the darkened room. Only the cat was home, so I let myself in. The foyer felt echoey and cold. I stood motionless for a few seconds and waited for movement from any direction, but nothing came.

  I turned on the flashlight app on my phone and set the timer for ten minutes. Upstairs, Jilly’s room was still messy and Rex’s cage was still open. I peeked in, but no Rex. Ha! Mission accomplished.

  I was curious about Gail. I went back to the master bedroom. The same book was on Gail’s bedside table next to some eyeglasses, but the photo I’d broken was now gone. On Dad’s side was a photo of the Calliope. We had the same one at home. I took it and the eyeglasses.

  I went down to the living room and took the photo of the three of them off the piano and put it in my bag. Then I grabbed up a great blue heron figurine from a side table, and from the computer desk between the living room and kitchen, a silver letter opener with an ivory handle. When I heard the door open, I put it all in my bag and slipped into the broom closet.

  Through the louvered door I heard Jilly say, “I’m gonna go play Skate Craze on my iPad.”

  “Nope, dinner first,” Gail said. Jilly ran upstairs anyway.

  Then my heart banged in my chest as I heard Dad’s familiar steps coming toward the closet. He passed the doors and sat in front of the computer. I alternated between feeling pissed off and scared of being caught breaking and entering. And having stolen goods on me, too.

  I settled on pissed off. Bullshit he was in Massachusetts taking care of the house.

  Jilly called down the stairs. “Can I have hot dogs for supper?” she asked.

  “I’m good with that. You, John?” Gail asked.

  “I’m not hungry,” he said.

  There was the sound of unpacking a grocery bag on the counter, and then the fridge door opening. I watched through the slats as Dad pushed his chair back and went to the kitchen.

  “Thanks for coming down, it meant a lot to me,” he said. “Mom would have loved you.” I couldn’t see, but I imagined them hugging each other tightly and then kissing. I dug my nails into my palms.

  Jilly walked into the room and stood in front of the louvered doors. “Gross, you guys.”

  “Hey, champ, hugs are a good thing,” Dad said. “Better watch out or you’re gonna get one!” Two bodies flew past the door, a little one and a big one. Jilly yelled for help, and Dad pretended to be a monster. I knew this game. It was my game, my dad, and my nickname. Champ belonged to me.

  They ran back into the kitchen, laughing and squealing as he caught her. Then the squeal turned into a piercing scream.

  It’s over, I thought.

  The three of them huddled on the floor just past the computer table.

  “Rex! Rex!” Jilly cried.

  Gail and Dad tried to calm Jilly while she screamed and cried.

  I squinted through the door, but I couldn’t see anything.

  “I’ll get the dustpan,” said Gail.

  Dustpan! Shit! I pushed harder into the corner and steadied my heavy bag of trinkets.

  “No, I got it,” Dad said. I could hear newspapers rustling and remembered the junk mail bucket under the desk.

  “How come he’s only got a face and tail?” she sobbed. “Where’s the rest of him?”

  “I think Sonar ate Rex.”

  My hand went silently to my mouth.

  Jilly began her heaving sobs again.

  “You probably forgot to close his cage. I’m sorry, champ,” Dad said.

  I had only wanted Rex to run around and poop everywhere. My heart raced, and beads of sweat popped out on my forehead and under my armpits.

  Dad rubbed Jilly’s back. “Mistakes happen.”

  Through the slats I could see Dad’s and Jilly’s shoes only three feet from the broom closet. I was trapped.

  “But I didn’t leave the cage open. I really didn’t, Daddy.”

  Daddy?

  CHAPTER 19

  Jilly called him Daddy and acted like that was normal. Rage flooded me, and images flashed through my mind: the crinkles at the edges of her eyes, her mouth when she laughed, the way she stiffened her shoulders when she got mad, her walk. She had Dad’s face.

  Of course she was his kid.

  Dad’s phone rang, and I put my hand to my pocket automatically and turned mine off.

  Listening to him talk to someone was so weird. Nothing was unusual for him, but all I could think of was Jilly saying “Daddy.”

  I tilted my head to see out the slats of the door. Dad was fiddling with the computer and talking quietly on the phone. And then, after a long sigh, he said loudly, “I know, I know.”

  He continued to click away at the computer. I strained to see, but it was only a stripy image of the floor.

  Then he left the room and called up the stairs. “I have to take care of something—be back in an hour.”

  The front door shut. The only sounds were pattering footsteps upstairs, so I cracked the closet door and listened.

  After a few minutes it was clear that Gail and Jilly were settled upstairs. I stepped quietly into the living room. The theme song from Skate Craze was playing, and an irritated Gail was arguing on the phone.

  “I don’t care about that, John. I know what I know. Someone was in here.”

  I stopped in the foyer, hand on the doorknob, and listened.

  “Exactly,” she said, like they were agreeing on something. She padded across the master bedroom and back again. And then stopped. “Don’t you think we should deal with this together?” she cried as her footsteps thumped into the hall and down the stairs. “I’ll call you back.”

  I bolted before she saw me, slammed the front door, and ran in the shadows all the way to the car. As I drove away, I glanced down the road and saw Gail standing in the light of the doorway, looking out into the street.

  I wanted to text Bo and tell him everything, but I knew I couldn’t. I drove straight to the island.

  I pulled over and brought up the pictures on the burner phone. I selected one of the Asian art masks.

  Me: Do the right thing.

  I almost added asshole to it, but didn’t. Before I was back on the road, he responded.

  John: I am.

  What a bastard. How dare he?

  I parked next to Will. The only other cars were Dory’s, Sam’s, and Nicole’s. I
barely thought about the tide, just enough to dodge the pools of water. What I needed was to talk about my dad, my mom, and now Jilly.

  Shit, I had a half sister.

  The fire was low, and it was oddly quiet when I walked up to the small circle of four.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey,” Will said.

  Dory, Sam, and Nicole got up and walked by me toward the causeway.

  “Call me later, Will,” Sam said.

  Will grunted an acknowledgement.

  “I can clear a room, I guess,” I said, sitting next to him.

  I dropped my bag, keenly aware of its rattling contents. “I have to tell you something,” I said, and began to cry.

  “Hey.” He pulled me close, hugging me tightly. “It can’t be that bad.” He held me at arm’s length and smiled his gorgeous crooked smile. The light from the fire made his skin a warmer bronze than usual.

  Just as I opened my mouth to tell him everything, he kissed me. For a minute I wanted to just do that, kiss Will and forget about what had happened, but I couldn’t. I pulled away and told him about Dad having a girlfriend and a daughter and that I had to tell Mom and I didn’t want to, and how it was even more complicated by Jilly, who was my half sister.

  I told him I was really scared.

  Will squeezed my shoulder while I cried. “It can’t be that bad,” he said again. And he squeezed my shoulder some more.

  “Thanks for listening. It’s all I could think about while I was hiding in the dark. I just wanted someone to talk to.” I dug in my bag and found a tissue. “Now that we have a real relationship, we can do that for each other.”

  Will grabbed a stick and poked the fire to life.

  “I mean, we can be there for each other,” I said, searching his face for some recognition of emotion. “I mean, now that you don’t see Nicole…”

  He walked over to the pile of driftwood, picked up a couple of sticks, and threw them on the fire. Sparks crackled and floated into the night sky.

  He stood with his back to me, stirring the fire, oddly silent.

  “Hey, come here,” I said from my perch on the log behind him. I tugged on his shorts.