Chapter 4 - The Cousin Lily Had Never Met
The girls asked to go to the bookstore.
We said no at the same time.
They looked at each other.
Then at us.
Ava whispered:
“Okay, that's creepy.”
Lily giggled.
First real sound either had made since the SUVs.
Julia rubbed her forehead.
“We are not doing the twin thing.”
“You still hate that?”
“I hated it when teachers did it.”
“So did I.”
For half a second, we were seventeen.
Then we remembered.
Lily looked at Ava.
“Are you my cousin?”
Ava looked at Julia.
Julia looked at me.
I hated that too.
Two adults who hadn't spoken for nine years making children wait while we decided whether biology could be acknowledged.
“Yes,” I said.
Julia said it at the same time.
The girls looked at each other again.
Lily asked:
“Why haven't we met?”
Julia opened her mouth.
I said:
“Adults made mistakes.”
She glanced at me.
Not wrong.
Not enough.
Ava looked at Julia.
“You said Aunt Claire didn't want us around.”
I turned.
Julia's face tightened.
“I said she didn't want contact.”
“Same.”
“No.”
Ava clearly disagreed.
Lily looked at me.
“Did you?”
Children have an irritating talent for removing all the useful adult vocabulary.
“I didn't want contact with your aunt.”
“Why?”
I looked at Julia.
She folded her arms.
“Go ahead.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I'm not telling our daughters the nine-year version in a mall.”
Julia’s jaw tightened.
“Then when?”
“Not today.”
She laughed without humor.
“Your favorite date.”
That one landed.
Walter stood.
“I’m getting coffee.”
I looked at him.
“You're staying.”
“Apparently.”
He walked off anyway.
Graham had taken the cash and note to secure them for Diane.
Not because either was evidence.
Because I was tired of seeing them.
Julia sat across from me.
“I came because Mom said you asked for ten minutes.”
“I didn't.”
“I know that now.”
“Why say yes?”
She looked toward Ava.
“Because she's been asking about you.”
That surprised me.
“Why?”
“School family tree.”
Of course.
Every family secret eventually meets construction paper.
“She found an old picture of us.”
“What picture?”
“Lake house. Sixteen.”
I remembered.
Matching swimsuits because Diane thought it was funny.
Julia and I had hated them so much we spent the entire afternoon wearing towels.
Ava asked who the other woman was.
Julia told her.
“My sister.”
“Not aunt.”
Julia looked at me.
“I didn't know if you wanted to be one.”
Fair.
“And then?”
“She asked if you had kids.”
Julia looked toward Lily.
“I told her yes.”
“How did you know?”
“Mom.”
Of course.
“Pictures?”
“Some.”
My throat tightened.
My mother had apparently built parallel versions of the family, passing carefully selected information between households.
Not enough for contact.
Enough to keep everyone curious.
I asked:
“Did you show Ava pictures of Lily?”
“One.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“That why she recognized me?”
Julia shook her head.
“Ava didn't recognize you. She thought you were me.”
Same mistake.
Same afternoon.
I looked toward the girls.
They were comparing shoes now.
Lily had already decided Ava was interesting.
No nine-year preamble required.
Julia said:
“I told Mom I was moving offices and probably wouldn't be back east for a while.”
“And?”
“She asked if I wanted to see you.”
“What did you say?”
Julia’s mouth tightened.
“I said I was done arranging opportunities for somebody who never used them.”
“That is not yes.”
“No.”
“Yet here you are.”
She looked at me.
“Because then Mom called back and said you asked for ten minutes.”
Silence.
Diane had not misunderstood.
May you like
She had lied.
Again.
