Chapter 12

 

 

My father had haunting eyes, that was my conclusion. I sat in the corner of the attic, having opened Pandora’s box of his things. I had only gone up to the attic to place the keys carefully on the shelves.

But the box had called to me.

I tried to find something in Marshall Gabrielle’s features that I saw in my own face. His haunting eyes, his cupid’s bow lips, his slightly crooked nose.

There was nothing familiar about them.

Perhaps he wasn’t really my father. Would that have made him leave me all those years ago? I didn’t know my mother, perhaps she was playing the field while she was young.

As much as a part of me wanted to believe I might be the milkman’s daughter, something deep inside me recognized the man in the picture as my father.

I wondered where in the world he was. I had so many questions that I always hoped I would get answered one day. Him not being here wasn’t conducive to that goal.

Maybe it was only for that reason that I wanted to find him. Because I did, want to find him that is. I may not want Frankie to help me anymore but I did want him located safe and well.

Marshall Gabrielle’s photograph was still haunting me the next evening when I was standing on the couch in his home. An eight-year-old was staring at me on the other side of the coffee table. I didn’t know what to say to my half-sister.

So we stared.

Awkwardly.

“Dinner’s ready,” Samantha announced. I had never been more relieved in my life.

We shuffled around the oblong dinner table nestled at the end of the kitchen. My stepmother had gone all out, setting a place for each of us with a cloth placemat and more silverware than I knew what to do with.

She placed a plate in front of us with a flourish, presenting it like it was a prize on a game show. It was some kind of a quiche, I couldn’t be sure until I tore into it.

Fancy.

Much fancier than anything Uncle Marvin or myself cooked.

“Dig in, don’t let it get cold,” Samantha said. She was smiling so widely I thought her face was going to stay that way forever, her jaw would be locked in place.

I smiled back at her before taking a bite of the food. There were vegetables and bacon in the quiche, it was actually really good. As the silence lingered loudly in the air, I had an overwhelming need to say something. “Thank you for inviting me over tonight.”

“It’s our pleasure,” she replied, still smiling. “It’s long overdue, really. Marshall always said he wanted to bring his family together again.”

I almost choked on my mouthful. Somehow, I didn’t think my father would have said anything like that. He would have found me otherwise. If he missed me so much he had ten years to find me.

Instead of responding to her ridiculous statement, I changed the subject. “Have you heard anything more about his whereabouts?”

Samantha shook her head sadly. “I speak to the police every day but they never have anything new to tell me. I’m not going to let them forget about him.” There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked tired. I would say his disappearance weighed more heavily on her than she admitted.

The ghost of my father in his absence lingered all through the house. It was like he’d just stepped out for a while or was away for a few days. To think he might never return was horrible. Even if I didn’t get him to be my father, April shouldn’t have to go through the same thing I did.

Nobody should.

Samantha plastered on her smile again. “So how do you like school, Em? Do you enjoy going?”

“Not really,” I replied. I could have lied, I probably should have, but she seemed to be trying to make me feel comfortable and I didn’t want to deceive her right then. “The classes are okay, I guess. But I’m looking forward to graduating and getting out of there one day.”

“I wasn’t much for school either, to be honest. I wasn’t one of the popular girls so I didn’t have it as easy as some. Still, I stuck in there and saw it out.”

My impression of Samantha completely changed in an instant. I assumed she was always the most popular girl in any room. To think she might be more like me changed that image in my head.

“April likes school, though. Don’t you, darling.” She grinned at her daughter who nodded solemnly.

“What’s your favorite subject?” I asked, trying to look interested. We shared the same father, I should know something about the girl.

“I like art,” April said, in her little girl voice. She was too young to feel the loss of a parent.

I was too.

Everything kept reminding me of the day when Marshall Gabrielle walked out on me and never came back. I didn’t want to keep reliving that memory, I wanted it to be pushed into the dark recesses of my mind so I could lock it up and throw away the key.

It was so much easier said than done.

As long as I kept my lips curled upwards, I could fool them into thinking everything was great. That I didn’t feel so betrayed and angry at my father, the man they all loved, that I didn’t want to scream at him for losing me.

Samantha went all out for dinner, serving up ice cream and chocolate sponge pudding for dessert. All the painful moments of the evening were totally worth it just for the dessert. I wanted to ask for seconds, thirds, and the recipe.

I only gave Uncle Marvin a passing thought as I remembered he would be eating a frozen dinner I left out for him before I departed. He would be having beer for dessert before falling asleep in front of the television. I didn’t tell him where I was going, only that I had a study group to attend. He only asked one question: ‘will there be boys there?’ to which I, of course, said ‘no’.

After another round of polite banter, I offered to help Samantha with the dishes but she waved me away. “You are our guest, don’t even think about the dishes.”

I found myself wanting to hug her.

That wasn’t like me.

April tugged on my hand before I could make impulsive actions of affection. “Come see my room, Emmy.”

Emmy?

We had nicknames now?

I looked to Samantha for a rescue but she merely smiled encouragingly. I turned to the kid and tried to summon up enough enthusiasm. “Sure.”

She didn’t let go of my hand until we had walked up all the stairs and entered her room two doors down. April spun around with her hands in the air, giggling to herself. “This is my room. Isn’t it pretty?”

The room was pink.

Very pink.

On one side was her bed with a pink canopy that someone had sewn little butterflies of all colors into, creating some kind of fairyland. On the other side was a dollhouse that was taller than April. In the middle were toys littering every available space in front of a chest of drawers and toy box. Fairy lights were strung around the room.

It was everything a little girl could want or need.

It was the room I would have killed for when I was eight years old.

April bounced on the bed cuddling a doll with sleepy eyes. “Do you like my room? You can sit on the bed if you want.”

Sitting meant staying and I didn’t want to get attached. Still, I guessed just once wouldn’t hurt. I sat on the edge, ready to make a hasty exit if I needed to. “It’s nice.”

“You really think so?” She said it like her entire future hinged on that one question. Like she might just keel over and die if I didn’t like her room.

I couldn’t help but get caught up in her world. “I really think so. This whole place is really great.”

Her face relaxed with relief, her big eyes looking at me without blinking. “Daddy used to talk about you. He said your favorite color is pink.”

I was almost ashamed to admit that my favorite color used to be pink. I loved every shade from cotton candy pink to deep hot pink.

Everything was pink, pink, pink.

Then.

Now was another story.

April was still waiting for an answer. It was time to start lying again. “Pink is great. Did he say anything else about me?”

She bit her lip and shook her head. If there were other secrets April knew, she was going to keep them to herself. I would have to worm them out of her slowly. If I ever saw her again after tonight.

It was starting to get quiet and awkward again. I pointed at the doll in her arms. “Does she have a name?”

“Molly.”

“Is she your favorite?”

The kid nodded with enthusiasm. “Uh-huh. She wants to be a ballerina when she grows up.”

“Do you want to be a ballerina too?” There were pink tufts of tutu skirts sticking out of the closet. I could already guess her answer without needing a private investigator.

“Yep. I love ballet.”

“It’s a good thing Molly does too.”

It took her a moment to work that out but when she did, the kid grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Do you like ballet?”

“I love it,” I lied. All those girls prancing around were not my idea of fun. Give me a pair of ballet flats over pointed shoes any day. I wasn’t going to ruin the little girl’s dream and tell her how much work went into staying in that kind of shape.

Someone else could crush her dream.

“I always wanted to have a big sister,” April said. I instantly felt bad about misleading her. She didn’t deserve to have a big sister that wasn’t going to really be a big sister. This dinner was probably going to be the first and last one.

I held my tongue instead of lying to her. She could interpret that any way she liked. Samantha could field all the questions about why I wasn’t visiting in the future.

April insisted on showing me her entire My Little Pony collection, introducing the horses one at a time and telling me their background story.

When it started to get late I excused myself and April followed me downstairs. Samantha was folding laundry, it looked like such a motherly thing to do that I stared at her for a while as the words left my head.

It took a bit of stuttering before I could speak. “I should go, it’s getting late. I have school tomorrow and everything.”

“Would you like a lift home?” Of course she would ask that question, everything about Samantha screamed that she was an excellent mother.

“There’s a bus stop just down the road,” I replied, pointing in the general direction.

She waved my words away like she was playing tennis. “Don’t be silly. I’m not going to let a teenager walk the streets in the dark. Anything could happen.” She grabbed the keys off the hook by the door and was out before I could argue.

We all piled into her minivan–of course–and I gave her directions home. She took me all the way to the door, pulling up on the curb. “Thank you for the lift,” I said as I got out.

“Bye, Emmy!” April called out from the backseat.

“See you, April.” She held up her doll. “And you too, Molly.”

Samantha gave me the parental look, the one that said she was about to say something meaningful and I should listen. “It was a pleasure having you over tonight, Em. If you need anything or just want to stop by, our door is always open. Okay?”

I nodded and thanked her again before closing the car door. Samantha only left when I was inside the house safely, watching my every move until she could no longer see me.

So that was what having a mother felt like.

Protected, loved, wanted, needed, cherished.

All were words that didn’t apply to me.

“Em, is that you?” Uncle Marvin called out.

I stepped into his line of sight. “Yeah.”

“I heard a car pull away. Who was it?”

“One of the teachers dropped me home after the study group,” I said, sounding so convincing I would have believed it myself if I didn’t know the truth.

Uncle Marvin just gave an undecipherable grunt in reply. It was his usual dismissal. I went upstairs and tried to get Samantha and April out of my head. If I spent any more time with them it might feel too natural, like I was actually a part of their family.

I wasn’t the big sister type.

I wasn’t the daughter type.

My place in this world was as a perpetual burden/domestic slave for an uncle that was counting down the days until I was legally not his problem anymore.

That was who Emmeline Grace Gabrielle was.

The piping-hot shower didn’t turn around the melancholy coursing around my blood. Nor did the homework that I tried to finish because it was due the next day.

I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw a montage of my dad, Samantha, April, and Uncle Marvin. They were there, painted on the backs of my eyelids and refusing to budge.

Sleeping definitely wasn’t going to be an option.

I crawled out of bed and threw a hoodie on over my pajamas. The house was in complete darkness when I crept down the stairs. Until I reached the living room. Uncle Marvin had gone to sleep in his favorite chair, slumbering in front of the night time infomercials.

Picking up my shoes from beside the door, I slipped out and then put them on my feet. I wasn’t sure where I was going or why, but I knew I couldn’t continue to stare at the ceiling in my bedroom.

I started walking.

And ended up somewhere completely unexpected.