Page 54 of Mommy

“Who’s Ebony?” I ask again.

Ivy’s steps are in sync with my own despite her shorter legs.

I don’t want to rush her. I don’t want her to shut down, and push me away.

When she came to my house, she had that same haunted expression on her face that I saw in her mother today. I want to know who is behind the shadows I witnessed, in not one but two pairs of blue eyes.

For a few moments, we just continue walking. One foot in front of the other while her mind works through my question.

“She was my twin sister.” Ivory whispers into the collar of her windbreaker. “She died when we were little. Mom never got over it and with her medication… sometimes… she slips.”

The way she breathes out the last two words, I don’t need to ask what she means. And I don’t need her to tell me that it’s not just sometimes.

I file away the information, not bothering to wonder about why it didn’t come up when I looked into Ivory in the beginning. It’s not like I went through her family history. I didn’t bother to do so, but maybe I should have. Losing a child can’t be easy, and it obviously didn’t leave Ivory’s mother unscarred.

And what is a wounded mother to a child?

The street around us has opened into a dark park. A few lamps are sprinkled throughout the area, shedding light onto the centre of the grass land.

The yellow glow reflects off of metal bars and a pair of swings, and I can’t help but try to imagine Ivy on them. Years ago when she was smaller and less burdened. An Ivory that was loud and threw tamper tantrums? An Ivory that hadn’t grown into her gentleness and wasn’t afraid to take up space?

I like the idea, even when I know that it was never like that. She was probably a quiet child, just like she is a thin woman now.

Invisible to anyone who didn’t bother to look for her.

My arm around her tightens, making her feel me right next to her. Because I’m right fucking here.

I’m sorry.

The words are on my tongue, but I don’t say them. An apology isn’t anything she hasn’t been offered before.

There’s a low wall circling around the playground. Checking the surface with my hands first, I lift Ivory up by her waist, setting her down on the smooth stone.

She’s no weight for my arms and I leave my fingers on her hips as I search her pretty face for an answer I don’t know the question to.

What can I do?

How can I make this better? Part of me wants to offer her my home as a safe space. I want her to know that she can come over any time, but I’m not sure that’s true. We might be pretending together, but our little game of playing house is not always on. And I don’t want to promise something I can’t keep.

My mind is still trying to figure out what to say to her, when I realize…

Ivy isn’t looking at me. Instead she is looking at something… behind me?

What the⁠—

“Do you see that man?”

Chapter thirty one

Ivory

I keep my voice low, so that only Derek can hear it.

A frown is etched deep into his face, but I continue anyway.

I don’t know what motivated me to tell him about my twin sister. It’s not like I even remember her. All I know is that I’ve always felt like half a person.

And how do you explain that? That gnawing feeling of being the wrong half of something?