WYATT
I watched Ava twirl or whatever this move was called in classical dance. She’s always looked cute in her leotard and her hair like that, but it’s been over six months since I’ve last come to get her from her dance lesson and it’s staggering how much progress she’s made and how more grown up she looked.
But something was amiss today as I watched her listen to her teacher’s last words with the other girls standing around. She wasn’t smiling and when she danced she was always smiling, even if the movements were challenging. She always said that dancing was like flying to her.
“It’s over for today. You’ve been very applied so keep up the good work. Don’t forget we have a fitting for your costumes for the end of the year presentation,’’ the teacher said gently and clapped with a proud smile on her face. If I didn’t know she was happily married to the guy who founded this dancing school I had no doubt I would have tried chatting her up the first time I got Ava from class three years ago. I couldn’t be blamed since dancers had amazing bodies. Today though, I wasn’t interested. I had myself to condemn after my stupid text to Marissa a few days ago, and my pathetic try at getting her into my bed again.
I focused my attention back to the present when Ava walked to me with her tiny bag I knew Mom packed with a water bottle, a towel and a snack along with a change of clothes. I stared at my sister’s baggy sweatpants and the sneakers at her feet.
“Hey, peanut.’’
She stared at me and sighed before rolling her eyes. “Hey.’’
“Nice,’’ I said and grabbed her bag. “Not to be a pain or anything, but I’m used to better greetings from you.’’
She crossed her thin arms and followed me out, her eyes fixed in front of her. That wasn’t like Ava at all. Now, I got a better idea why the parents wanted me to get her from her dance lesson to have a chat. Dad told me over the phone last night that since they’ve told her about Marissa, she’s been very quiet and it’s been two days, almost three. That wasn’t like her. She usually spent her time talking a mile a minute, and she laughed and smiled at any moment. In a word, she was a happy kid.
“I know they asked you to get me. I heard them on the phone last night.’’
“And you’re not glad to spend some time with me?’’
She looked up at me and shrugged as we rounded a corner to get to where I parked my car. “It’s not that.’’
“What is it then?’’ I put my arm around her skinny shoulders and pushed her into me playfully. At last, a small smile was my reward. “Come on. It’s not like you can’t tell me.’’
“I know.’’ She sighed again, and that gave me an idea of what her teenage years would be. Not many more years to wait until she’d show her least attractive traits, but at least she wouldn’t be teetering on the edge of delinquency as I had. “It’s just… weird that Mom gave away her first daughter.’’
“Does that bother you?’’
“Well, yeah. I mean, yes.’’ She frowned at me just as we stopped at my car, neither of us making a move to climb in once the door unlocked. “Doesn’t it bother you?’’
I leaned against the car, Ava’s small bag hanging from one hand while I rubbed the back of my head in thoughts. It was one thing to be bothered and troubled by Marissa’s existence, but it was another to comfort a kid who was probably lost in all of this even if she couldn’t put a word on her feelings. I didn’t want her to feel this helpless, this disturbed. I wanted my sister happy, just like she’s always been which meant that I had to protect her from my dark thoughts and fears, something I’ve had to do several times over the years.
“Honest?’’ I asked her, and at her nod, I pushed out a smile I didn’t feel. “I was concerned at first, but I got to know Marissa, and she’s great. Sometimes, peanut, people don’t have a choice, and they can’t raise a baby. Mom was too young and on her own. She gave Marissa the chance to grow up like you did with two parents, an older brother and a good home.’’
“But why did Mom give her up and not me? Because she’s older?’’
I put a finger under her small dimpled chin and tilted her head up until her chocolate eyes full of worries that weren’t supposed to be there looked back at me. “Mom didn’t have Dad when she had Marissa. She didn’t have anything, Ava. You can’t blame Mom for this, okay? And you don’t have to wonder why you and not Marissa because it has nothing to do with you or Marissa. Life's hard when you grow up, peanut. That’s the way it is.’’
She nodded, and that tiny little nod broke my fucking heart. In that single nod, I saw an understanding of the world that shattered some of the childlike thoughts she used to have just a few days ago. For one thing, she didn’t see Mom like the perfect person she had always seen, but she saw her failures and flaws too.
“I can’t believe I have an older sister.’’ She scrunched up her little nose and stared at me. “How is she?’’
“She looks a lot like Mom.’’
“Really? More than me?’’
“You took a lot after Dad,’’ I said and opened the door for her to climb in the back. I waited until she was buckled to close the door and go behind the wheels. “She’s taller than Mom and thinner, but she has the same eye color.’’
“Tell me more.’’
“Alright,’’ I replied and smiled, this time genuinely when I heard Ava’s growing curiosity about Marissa. That was a good sign. When Ava was curious, it meant that she was all right. She only needed someone other than the parents to talk to, and she needed time to process the huge news. Anybody and at any age would need time.
So, I told everything I knew about Marissa, even the smallest details like how she often rubbed or caressed her tats on her wrist or behind her little ear. I went on and on until I parked in front of our parents’ house and that was when I realized how many things I knew about Marissa, even the most inconsequential things.
I silently thanked that Ava was too young to understand what it meant.
***
MARISSA
I swung on the porch swing behind my parents’ house and stared at the trees moving lazily in the wind. I let the bird's song lull me into a calm that I had been trying to find these past few days, or maybe months if I was honest. My muscles melted, my shoulders slouched and my hands unclenched in my lap.
“Can I sit with you, darling?’’
I smiled up at my mother and patted the empty space on the porch swing. I stared at the woman who had never failed to give me motherly love, care, and attention. She looked barely like the fifty-five-year-old she was with her blonde hair, now colored to hide gray hair, her bright blue eyes, and the clear complexion that she never seemed to be able to tan.
“You’re not very talkative today.’’
“Sorry.’’ I touched the birds on my wrist and smiled at her. “I have a lot on my mind, that’s all.’’
“Is it about your work or…’’ she trailed off, probably looking for the right words to finish her sentence without upsetting me. She’d been walking on eggs ever since I went to Lydia’s.
“Or about my birth mother.’’
“Yes,’’ she said, a soft smile on her thin lips. “I don’t want you to keep everything inside. You know you can talk to Dad or me. We’re supporting you in all of this, darling. Never doubt that.’’
“I know you are. You two have been amazing.’’ I put my head on her shoulder, and when her hand started to run through my hair, I released a contented sigh. “It’s more complicated than I expected.’’
“But she welcomed you with open arms, didn’t she?’’ My mother’s hand stopped stroking my head, waiting for my answer.
“She did. She’s a great person, Mom. Don’t worry.’’ Her hand went back to petting me. “It’s just that she has her own family, her own life. I have my own life too. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m afraid that I started something a lot bigger than I ever expected.’’
“I’m telling you what you’re doing. You’re doing your best to navigate a difficult situation. We’re proud of you, Marissa. If you need to stop seeing her, Lydia Burton will understand.’’
“She and her husband told their little girl about me.’’
“They did?’’
I nodded. “She’s just ten, and apparently curious about me. It’s just a matter of time until she wants to meet me and I agreed to all of this, but what’s my place in her life? I’m not her sister, Mom. I’m a stranger.’’
“Look at me, darling,’’ she said gently. I straightened up and locked eyes with her. “Nobody is asking you to be her sister. You can be a friend, a distant relative. You don’t have to label anything. You shouldn’t put this much pressure on yourself.’’
“It’s just so… complicated.’’ I looked away and back at the trees bordering my parents’ large backyard where Jamie and I had played so many times, sometimes imagining wild and epic adventures.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?’’
“You’re too perceptive, Mom.’’ I smiled at the trees and let her squeeze my hand when she realized I wouldn’t elaborate. It wasn’t like I could say that I seemed to be in way over my head with my birth mother’s adoptive son. That should be inconsequential in comparison to everything else.
“Whenever you need to talk, you know you have your father and me, my darling. Always.’’