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I pulled out a bottle of Cabernet and showed it to Layana.
She shrugged, her gaze never leaving mine. “Sure.”
I popped open a bottle and poured the dark contents into the waiting glasses. “I heard him on the phone once, on New Year’s Eve, begging her to visit. She hung up on him.”
A knot formed in my throat. I washed it down with a gulp of wine. Notes of black current and oak coated my tongue. The conversation was drifting off topic.
“When Esme was twelve,” I said, “she decided to take matters into her own hands and hunt down our mother.”
Layana leaned on the counter and twisted the stem of her wine glass between thumb and forefinger. Her gaze still lingered on my face, but the look in her eyes was softer.
“It didn’t matter that I told her to leave well enough alone. She decided she was going to do it, so she did.”
“If she was twelve…that would have made you twenty-one?”
“That’s right.”
“And you’d stepped up to help raise your sister, while you were also going to college.”
“Yes.” I took another sip of wine. “I’d recently started graduate school.”
Layana took a sip, too, her expression soft, open.
I took a deep breath. “Esme posted photos on social media, tracked down leads based on feedback.”
“Serious amateur sleuthing. Did she find anything?”
“Enough. But she doesn’t know the whole story. No one does.”
“What does that mean?”
My throat burned. My chest felt tight. I couldn’t wash away the feeling with wine, but that was fine. It was an old wound, one that couldn’t be healed, yet one I needed to expose. It was the only way Layana would understand.
But was that really what this was? Did telling my story to Layana really have anything to do with my sister?
“One day, I found an unmarked envelope in our mailbox. It wasn’t addressed, so I opened it. It was meant for Esme.”
Layana took my hand. That small contact, the little squeeze of her fingers, offered the support and encouragement I hadn’t realized I needed. The words poured out of me.
“Our mother had seen one of the many posts Esme had put out there looking for her, and had decided to respond. It said not to look for her. It said she wasn’t the right fit for us.”
I turned fully to Layana. The tension in my muscles began to numb.
“I tracked her down. And I watched. She had a new family.”
“Oh, Gabriel.”
Now that I’d started, I couldn’t make the words stop even if I wanted to. “She discarded us and started anew with a much larger house and some rich investment banker husband. We weren’t good enough for her.”
I wasn’t enough.
Layana ran her hands up my arms, and over my shoulders. She pressed herself to me, holding me. “You’re enough.”
“If it was about money….”
“It wasn’t money. It wasn’t you. There is nothing wrong with you. There never was. You’re wonderful, Gabriel. You deserved better. I’m so sorry.” Layana wrapped her arms around my middle and settled her cheek against my chest.
I felt safe in her arms, and something else, something akin to relief. I felt lighter sharing my story with someone. I felt like I didn’t have to carry this burden alone anymore.
