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“What do you think of them?” Brett asked me.
“They seem happy.” That made me jealous, too. Happy. Carefree. Surfing with a family member. Things that seemed so ordinary that I never had, and would never have.
“Look at their faces, Jubi,” Brett instructed me. “Don’t see through the lens of your baggage. Look with your eyes.”
I looked at their faces. They had thick lips, deep black eyes and an olive tan not that different from my own. Their almond eyes resembled mine as well. I didn’t think the man could grow facial hair. His chin was so smooth. He also didn’t have a lick of body hair, either. And her? She was beautiful, but in a familiar way. Like I knew her face and the particular structure of her cheeks.
“They could be my sibling,” I chuckled. “They look like me. But that’s not unusual. They’re obviously Pilipino.”
Despite hours of accent training, I still found it difficult to pronounce F sounds when speaking Tagalog cognates. The Philippines was the Pilipinas. Filipino was Pilipino, or Pinoy. Some things just don’t change, no matter how much acting or repetition.
“If we did a DNA test,” Brett sipped his coffee. “Yes. You’d actually be half siblings.”
“What?” I narrowed my eyes. “Did my bastard father have another family? Is that why he was gone and…”
“Put away the claws, you menace.” Despite the mirror aviators, I could see him rolling his eyes.
“Was that why he never claimed me?” I hissed through gritted teeth. “Because he had a legitimate family and didn’t want his bastard…”
“That’s enough!” He slammed a hand on the table. Our plates and cutlery bounced and clattered. Heads around us turned to see what the ruckus was about. Brett took a deep breath, then shook his head, wiping his face with his big palm.
“If you don’t watch out, your face will get stuck like that permanently,” I grumbled, saying the phrase that my mother used anytime I pouted, or rolled my eyes.
Brett chuckled, diving into his Eggs Benedict.
“Your dad never cheated on your mother.” He said. “Not even when they were apart. When I was a young red-blooded male, it drove me crazy cos I wanted to….”
“He partied so much and was so drunk…” I started skeptically, only for him to cut me off.
“No, he wasn’t.” Brett interrupted. “Now shut up and listen, and don’t be a little witch about it.”
“I thought witchy was supposed to be my new identity,” I couldn’t help saying.
He flashed me a look of exasperation, crossed his arms, and raised his brow as if he was askingAre you done?
I shut my mouth.
He nodded in approval of my silence.
“Your dad had a twin brother. They were identical.”
“The fuck?” I exclaimed.
“Again, with the talking! I need you to do this.” He made a zipping motion over his lips and I shut up again. “Good.” He let out an aggrieved sigh. “Your dad had a twin brother, who also had twins. So, genetically speaking, yes. You and those two would be half siblings. Though, practically speaking, you are cousins.”
I looked at the pair in awe again. They were older than me, I think. But now that I was aware, the signs were obvious. We had the same tight knees, large calves and even the length of our neck and the shape of our heads were similar.
“I had a whole family that I didn’t know about.” A tear rolled down my cheek.
“They’ve been here, in America.” Brett said, gentler. “They were far enough away that Leopold thought they were safe from his decisions. You were still in the Philippines, and too close to home for him to… want to taint you with our line of work.”
I shook my head. “You’ll excuse everything he did.”
This was our one fight. Our one sticking point. Brett was obsessed with repairing my relationship with a corpse. Whatever affinity my father and Brett may have had was irrelevant to me. My dad was a drunk and was less of a mentor than LeBlanc. Less of a father than Brett. I didn’t need to change my mind about him.
“Brat,” he said, looking both annoyed and disappointed. “You’re going to regret what you’re saying one day, when you’re ready to open your eyes.”
“Well, asshole, I have small almond eyes. This is as open as they get!” I grumbled.
