I want to push harder but don’t. Instead, I lean my head against the window and close my eyes. If my mother won’t tell me the truth, I know someone who will be happy to share dirt about the family to anyone that will listen.
8
“Ihave a question,” I tell Anita that evening. My mother is holed up in the camper in a writing frenzy. Regardless, I’m not speaking to her right now anyway. Her attitude over family secrets is getting annoying. I’m reading under the canopy when I spot Anita and Sibley walking along the shore, out for an after-dinner walk. Perfect opportunity to dig for a little information.
Surprisingly, she replies, “I have one for you, too, but you go first.”
It’s weird that now that I know we’re related I can see tiny features that are similar to my own or my mother’s. We have the same blue eyes and dark lashes and slim fingers. But Anita is small all around and quick to flash a grin and make everyone comfortable.
“So what’s the deal with our mothers?”
Anita stops walking and looks at me. “You don’t know?”
“No, do you?”
“No,” she says. “Shoot. I was hoping you did.”
Sibley runs to the edge of the water and sits down in her shorts. “Sibley! No sitting—remember? You’re not in a bathing suit!” The toddler just laughs and splashes her feet.
“Well, that was a bust—you really don’t know anything?” I ask, once Anita gives up on a dry Sibley.
“I know they used to be super close and something happened between them, and your mom got upset and never came back.”
“That’s why she never came back? Because of a fight with your mom?”
“That’s how I’ve always heard it, but it does seem a little dramatic, right?” she agrees.
“Weird. I mean, I never knew any of you existed, so I’m clueless. I tried to get it out of her today but she got a bit hostile.”
“My mom cries,” she says, kicking the sand. “She looks at these old pictures of them and gets sad, but when I ask about it she tells me to mind my own business.”
“Huh.” I’m disappointed.
“Although,” Anita declares, “I do have one theory.”
“Really? What is it?”
I see an excited glint in her eye. “I think Richard is involved.”
“Justin’s uncle?”
“Yep. He was the big catch back in the day—I’ve seen photos. He looked like Justin, except with a military haircut. He and my mom dated for a while. There’s a photo of them at a school dance.”
“Interesting. My mom mentioned going to some dances at the Citadel. And she Richard were hanging out the other day at our camper.”
“Oh really?” Anita asks, a tiny smile forming on her lips.
“Yep. They sounded like they were fighting about my mom coming back to Ocean Beach and something about her book. I don’t know. None of it makes sense to me.”
“Hmm… I wonder what that’s about. My mom has always kept Richard out of it but it sounds like they all were involved. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s always about a guy, you know?”
“Yeah.”
We walk a little bit, following Sibley as she picks up shells and tosses them in the water. “Okay then, my question,” Anita says.
“Ready.”
“What are you running from?”
