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“Sometimes.” He pauses for a moment and I take a deep breath before I continue. “My mother was raped.”
“By her uncle?”
“No, her uncle’s son also raped her when she was seventeen.”
He looks up from his notepad curiously. “Seventeen? That would have been three years after the alleged molestation by her uncle ceased?”
I hate that he always says alleged molestation. It makes me feel like we’re in a courtroom instead of an office.
“Yes. He’s my father.”
I’m having second thoughts now. I don’t know if I can trust him enough to tell him about the letter. What if he insists on calling child protective services? Not that it would matter. If there’s anything I learned in the foster care system, it’s that CPS rarely takes preemptive action. They’re almost always too late.
The look Goldberg gives me is meant to be sympathetic, I suppose, but I sense a bit of betrayal, as if he’s upset that I didn’t tell him about my father sooner. That’s when I realize I can’t tell him about the letter. I have to tell Chris first.
If there’s anyone who will understand what I’m feeling right now, it’s Chris. He hasn’t seen or spoken to his father since he was six.
I stand from my chair suddenly and slide my purse strap onto my shoulder. “I have to go now.”
“Don’t forget to call Janine to schedule your next appointment.”
I smile as I scurry out of the office, eager to get out of this building. Our dorm in Spencer Hall is clear across campus and I still have a ton of reading to do for Professor Coldwater’s class—not that I’m looking forward to reading about divorce and stepfamilies.
By the time I make it into the dorm, Senia is already sitting on her bed with her laptop open and her earbuds in place. She smiles at me and goes back to doing whatever she was doing. I let my backpack drop on the floor then set my purse down on the desk. I dig my hand into the bottom of the purse and pull out the letter from my father.
The neat handwriting on the outside makes me anxious. I think I saw or read somewhere that serial killers often have very messy or very neat handwriting. I don’t think my father is a serial killer, but maybe the same handwriting analysis applies to serial rapists.
My heart pounds as I slide my phone out of my pocket and dial Chris’s number. He picks up on the second ring.
“Hey, babe.”
He still calls me babe even though I rejected his marriage proposal. It doesn’t even bother me anymore. It really got on my nerves when he did it while I was still with Adam, but now… it just feels natural.
“Chris, I have to tell you something.”
There’s a pause as he probably tries to decide whether he wants to know what I’m about to tell him.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Well, no, not really. I…. I got a letter from my father five weeks ago and I think I may need to go to California to meet him.”
There’s a rustling noise as he moves then, “Hey! I’m gonna take this outside. I’ll be right back,” he says to someone.
“Where are you?”
“I’m with Xander and Tristan. We’re scoping out a studio in Chapel Hill.”
“I’ll let you go if you’re busy.”
“I’m never too busy for you. So, wait a minute, you got a letter from your father? The one who raped your mom?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck.”
“Exactly. What am I supposed to do? He has another daughter, four years younger than me, the same age as my mom when he raped her. I can’t just ignore that.”
He sighs and I dig my nails into the palm of my hand as I wait for his response. “Claire, I think we may have found a studio here in Chapel Hill,” he says, as if I didn’t just tell him my half-sister is living with a rapist. “I made a deal with Arista Records that this album would be acoustic so that we’d have a higher chance of finding a studio in this area. Most of the studios are only equipped for acoustic recordings. I did that for you, so I could be close to you while I’m recording. I want to be here for you.”
“You don’t have to do that, Chris. I told you that you should go to L.A.”
“I don’t want to go to L.A. And the deal is already done, for the most part. We just have to find a studio now. But my point is, I want to take you to California to meet your dad and your sister, but I need a couple of weeks to record.”
“That’s it? I thought you were going to tell me I’m crazy for even thinking of meeting him.” I sit down in the desk chair as the tension in my shoulders begins to ease a little. “I can wait a few weeks. I have to wait. Winter break doesn’t start for another five weeks.”
“Well, I guess we’ll be kissing under the mist
letoe in California.”
“Shut up.”
He chuckles and I wish I were there to see him smile.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “I have to get back in there before Xander goes into full bitch-mode.”
“I’m fine. Go handle your business.”
“Hey!” he calls out before I can hang up.
“What?”
“Have a good Thanksgiving with Senia.”
My chest floods with warmth that spreads through my entire body. “Thanks. Give your mom a hug for me.”
“I’ll let you do that next time you come over. Goodnight, babe.”
“Goodnight.”
I can hardly breathe. I want to curl up in bed and forget about my father and the two rings on my nightstand. I want to wake up five weeks from now, in California, where the only thing that matters is meeting my sister.
I have a little sister.
It’s funny how having someone else to look after changes your entire outlook on life. I never got to feel that with Abigail. To go to sleep one night with your child nestled inside you and wake up the next with no evidence your child ever existed is like waking up in a nightmare that never ends. As much as I want to feel like nothing has changed between Chris and me, everything has changed. And by everything I mean me.
Chapter Five
Adam
The first time Lindsay called me, after not having spoken to her for over eight months, I think time stopped along with my heart. My first thought, when I heard Lindsay’s voice, was that the DNA test results had been botched. I was certain that Lindsay was calling to tell me that I’m the father of her newborn child. She wanted to know if I’d heard from Nathan, which made me laugh. She told me she hadn’t heard from him in a few days and to please let her know if I heard from him. The second time she called, during the football game, it took everything in me not to answer the phone and lose my shit.
Instead, what I discovered is that the true father of her child, the guy she left me for eight months ago, has pretty much abandoned her and their child. After the competition in California, where Nathan Jennings qualified to go to the ASP qualifier competition in Australia, Lindsay claims that Nathan began acting strange. Then he insisted he needed to go back to California for another competition, which is when Lindsay quickly realized what I’ve known since I met Nathan Jennings over six years ago: he’s full of shit. And he’s not ready to be a father.
I don’t believe in karma, but if I did, I would most certainly say that this is Lindsay getting payback for what she did to me. But I don’t believe in karma. And, having gone through it myself, I actually feel sympathetic.
Of course, I may be sympathetic, but I’m not stupid.
As she steps out of the rear unit of the small duplex, where she and Nathan lived together before he decided to ditch her three weeks ago, I can’t help but feel like something stronger than sympathy has pulled me back here.
She smiles at the baby she’s cradling in her arms as she locks the door. Kaia. A Hawaiian name meaning “the sea or restful place.” Those are both things I used to associate with Lindsay. She was the only girl I’d been with who wasn’t a professional surfer and still loved the ocean as much as I do—until I met Claire. And my relationship with Lindsay was comfortable, restful, until the last three or four months when everything fell apart.
She looks through the windshield at me and I’m tempted to go help her with the car seat and the diaper bag she’s carrying along with the baby, but I’m afraid. It feels like something only Nathan should do, but that’s just stupid. A friend can help another friend carry a fucking car seat. I scramble out of the car and scurry over to help her.
“Actually, can you take Kaia? I need to strap the car seat in,” Lindsay says.
I stare at the baby for a moment. This is the second time I’m taking Lindsay and Kaia to the hospital. Two weeks ago, I took them to the emergency room for some type of stomach virus that had Kaia vomiting for over twenty-four hours. Today, it’s just for vaccinations. Lindsay claims she’s trying to find a roommate to help her out with the other half of the rent now that Nathan is gone. She doesn’t want to move in with her parents in Carolina Beach. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I have a feeling she’s hoping I’ll offer to help her out.
