Something in my chest pinches together, and I wish I were sitting closer to her so I could hold her hand or comfort her in some way. Being forgotten about, by anyone, must hurt. My dad values family more than anything. Making sure we’re all happy and healthy has always been his top priority. But knowing his own sister is living all the way out here alone and he hasn’t done a thing about it doesn’t seem like those values extend very far.
“You know, your dad and I share the same father,” Marie continues. I nod eagerly, desperate to know more. “Your Grandpa Voss was the one who created the business from the ground up. You’d think that would make us connect, bond over spreadsheets, and spend summers visiting the US to go to meetings. But as the eldest daughter, I wasn’t given anything. No responsibility, no say in anything they did. I had to sit and watch.” My stomach twists uncomfortably. I know that feeling all too well. “And then my dad met your grandmother and had your father. He got everything, all the power, all the responsibility, and my mother and I were pushed aside. Shunned from the family because of traditional values.”
I can see the hurt in her eyes, the pain that clearly still lingers. All I can manage to offer her is, “Aunt Marie, I’m so sorry.”
She jerks back slightly, confused. “You’re sorry?”
“Yes, I’m sorry that you got pushed aside,” I say, swallowing. “Trust me, I know how that feels.”
She scoffs. “You’re, what, sixteen?”
“I’m twenty.”
“Right. You still don’t know anything.”
I think about telling her what happened when Iwassixteen. How I felt when my parents found out what I did. How I still don’t feel like I’ve fully gained their trust back. How stupid I feel for letting them down and dragging my friends down with me.
I settle for something a bit lighter instead. “My dad hasn’t been the most accepting with me either,” I say, and she doesn’t respond, allowing me space to continue. “He thinks I’m not ready for the responsibility yet even though it’s been all I’ve worked toward since I knew what our company meant. I’ve tried to impress him in every aspect of my life but it’s never enough. So, yeah, I do know how it feels. A little bit at least.”
Marie’s mouth opens and closes, blinking rapidly. “I didn’t know that.”
I shrug. “Maybe times haven’t changed much since you were my age.”
My phone lights up with a text, distracting me for a second when I see Evan’s name.
Evan:
Not to freak you out or anything, but there is an insane amount of taxidermy animals back here.
I swallow back a scream, trying to seem casual in front of my aunt as I type back a panickedWHAT?!
I look back to my aunt. There’s a deep hurt in her eyes, something that still hasn’t fully healed no matter how long ago this happened. I feel for her. No one should have to go through something like that, watching themselves and their own mother get replaced. Especially not so publicly. To me, my nonna was always a huge part of Voss. She and my grandfather seemed to work side by side until they passed. The fact that I didn’t know a thing about Marie’s existence until now goes to show just how little he cared about her.
A ping sounds in the distance, like a timer’s gone off, and Marie mutters a curse under her breath. “That stupid oven. I swear it doesn’t know when to shut up sometimes,” she mutters angrily. I watch her struggle to stand, but I get up before she does.
“No, stay. I’ll sort it out,” I offer. She eyes me suspiciously for a second, but I can tell she’s too weak and tired to fight me on it, so she settles back in her chair instead.
I move into the hall, checking every corner for Evan. I need him to stop texting me if I want this interview to go somewhere. And besides that, I’m actually enjoying getting to know her. Am I pissed at my dad for not telling me any of this sooner? Absolutely. But in some ways, I’m grateful that the list led me here.
I take the charred tray of food from the oven, place it on the stove and grimace at whatever it was supposed to be. I open a cupboard to see if there is anything I could cook for her instead.
I yelp when I turn and crash into a hard surface. Strong hands sink into my biceps, and I regain my balance, staring up at Evan. His eyes are deep and sincere, a sea of green swirling in them.
“You scared the shit out of me,” I say, playing it off with a laugh. I try to squirm out of his grip, but he doesn’t let go of me, holding me tighter.
“We have to leave. Likenow,” he hisses, glancing toward the door to the kitchen.
I yank myself out of his grip. “I’m not leaving because you’re scared of some stuffed animals, Evan.”
“There aresomany of them, Scarlett,” he whispers hauntingly, even shuddering for effect. “Somany.”
