“It's aboutGordon.” She whispered his name like she was daring to sayVoldemortout loud. “Actually, it'sfromhim.”
The blood in my veins went cold. “I don't understand. He's dead. How can you get a letter from a dead person?”
“I guess he wrote it when he was sick and knew that he was dying? He, um… I don't even know how to say this.” She was on the verge of tears. Paper rustled in the background. She must have had the letter right there, reading it.
I wanted to console her, but my mind was moving so fast I could hardly keep up. This was one thing I had not bargained on. A letter? What in the hell could he have said to her in a letter? And why was she getting it now? Weeks after his death?
“He says I was his only family other than his brother. He left me stuff in his will. What the hell does that mean, Katherine? His family?”
My mouth fell open, frozen. From beyond the grave, he was messing up our lives, again. I wanted to hide from it, but I couldn't. Amy needed me. “Take a deep breath. I'm coming over right now.”
“Yes, please. Hurry.”
I hung up the phone, still disbelieving what she'd just told me.
“What's wrong?” Eamon looked over from the TV. As soon as he saw my face, he got up from the couch and headed straight for me.
“Amy got a letter. From the man my mom had the affair with.”
“Wait. I thought he was dead.”
I explained the rest, the words sounding no better when I said them aloud. “She's really upset and I told her I would come over.” I was about to walk into a buzz saw, but what choice did I have? “I had to. She's my sister. She needs me.”
Eamon nodded and took my hand. “Yeah. Of course. We should call for a car. I don't want you taking the subway out to Brooklyn at night.”
“It's fine. It might be good for me to have the time to think.”
“Will you take a car back then?”
“I will.”
“What are you going to say to her?”
That was the sixty-four thousand-dollar question. “I don't know what I can do other than tell her the truth.”
I grabbed my coat and my purse, kissed Eamon and Fiona goodbye, and hurried down to the subway station. I'd always sort of liked riding the subway—the rocking back and forth was oddly soothing to me. Those carrot orange and goldenrod molded plastic seats let me know I was at home. Of course, taking the train tonight was only prolonging the inevitable. A car would've been much faster this time of day, but the truth was that I needed time to think.
Memories, mostly bad, began to rifle through my head again, the stuff I'd thought I could finally set aside. Things like the first time we were taken over to his house. I was six and Amy was only four, but I remembered it like it had been tattooed on my brain. We were parked on his couch in front of the television. Mom had brought a DVD with her,The Little Mermaid, a movie we'd watched one hundred times. The sound was turned up to what seemed like an unusual level, but neither of us said a thing. Amy and I had no clue what was going on, so we did as we were told and sat there while the adults disappeared down the hall.
I looked over at Amy during the first scene in Ursula's lair, watching her in profile, cast in blue from the light of the TV. She had the most adorable little nose, her eyes wide as she was transfixed by the story, mumbling the words to herself. Even then, it felt like I understood how innocent we were, and that something bad was happening. I tried to chalk it up to the movie. Ursula had always made me nervous anyway. I was always the kid who wanted to fast-forward over the bad parts.
We got thirsty after awhile and went into the kitchen to find some water. We had to open nearly every cabinet to find the glasses, and we were terrified of being found out, like we were tiny thieves in the night. I remember exactly how unsettling it felt like to be in that strange house, brought there by our own mother. It was no less surreal now. But Amy and I had lived it. Of that much I was sure.
I sucked in a deep breath and set my temple against the train window, letting the force of it knock my head. When would this feeling ever go away? This deeply-seated sense of damage, an open wound that refused to heal. Would it always stay with me? Would I never be free of it? I would've wished for amnesia if Amy and Eamon and Fiona and my dad didn't mean so much to me.
I reached the stop closest to Amy and Luke's new place and filed off with the other passengers, trudging up the stairs and out into the night air. It was cold tonight and it almost smelled like snow, but it was still early for that. Mother Nature playing tricks, or maybe I was just missing our time back at Dad's, a trip I had been so apprehensive about, but that turned out surprising and wonderful. I would've done anything to go back in time just a few days.
My walk was only four blocks, but I was freezing by the time I got there. I jabbed at the button for their unit and immediately put my mitten back on. I was buzzed up right away.
Amy was waiting at the top of the landing, wearing a fuzzy sky blue sweatshirt, leggings, and slippers. She looked like hell, even from a distance. “Thank God you're here. I'm freaking out.”
I rushed up the stairs and into her arms. She'd been crying. I wanted to cry, but I wasn't there yet. All I could think at that moment was how unfair this was to both of us. We never asked for this. Not a single drop of it. And we couldn't shake it. It was starting to feel like a curse.
Luke was standing in the doorway to their apartment. “Thanks for coming over, Katherine. Amy has been really upset and I have to admit, I'm a bit out of my depth on this one. I've only known for a few weeks about your mom and everything that happened to you girls.” He stood there like he was looking to us for guidance. “What can I do? Open another bottle of wine?”
Another bottle?At least that gave me a better sense of my sister's state of coherency.
Amy shook her head. “It's okay, hon. I just need to talk to Katherine. It'll be okay.” She popped up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Love you.”
