Page 56

FORTY-EIGHT

lorenzo

It’s my parents’ expressions that tell me just how bad it really is.

When I walk into our house, they’re ashen-faced, mouths drawn in tight slashes.

I feel my mom’s gaze heavy on me, but every time I look at her, she can meet my eye for only a second before she blinks and looks away.

I’d hoped they might have a story that would make it okay that they’ve kept a huge secret from me for two decades, but I know before we even sit down that they don’t.

“We never intended it to turn out this way,” my dad says when the six of us are finally seated awkwardly in the living room: me and my parents, Anthony, Aunt Teresa, and Uncle Sal.

Dad’s fingers are laced so tightly together in his lap that they’re white, and I feel for him.

I hate seeing my dad this way, and I want to help him.

But when I realize he has nothing more to offer, my sympathy curdles into anger.

“Then why did it?” I say harshly.

My mom closes her eyes and swallows. I look away. I can’t stand to see her hurting, but right now, I don’t have room for her pain.

“There’s no good answer for that,” Dad says.

When silence settles heavily over the room, I ask, “Then why are we sitting here? We already know you guys fucked up majorly. Are we just here to emphasize the point?”

“We’re here to clear the air,” Aunt Teresa says firmly, taking an authoritative tone that gets my hackles up. “To explain what should have been explained long ago.”

“Then do it,” I spit, and I can tell she’s taken aback by my harshness. I am too.

My dad clears his throat. “We planned to do everything by the book—tell both of you when you were tiny so you knew from the beginning. But doing everything by the book isn’t so easy in practice.”

I shake my head and stare at the red-and-black pattern on the old Persian carpet that covers the floor.

“Look, we were all young parents,” Uncle Sal says. “We didn’t know what we were doing. And when we were growing up, the school of thought was different; back then, you waited to tell kids about adoption until they were mature enough to understand it—if you told them at all.”

I glance at Anthony, who’s staring off like he’s not even listening. Where’s his shitty attitude when I need it? Why isn’t he mouthing off or breaking a chair or something? You can always rely on Ant to make a scene.

“Well, this has been great. Super helpful, really.” I clap my hands together and stand. “But sounds like you guys have said everything you need to say, so let’s just be done here.”

“We screwed up,” my mom says softly. It’s the first she’s spoken, and it stops me. “Plain and simple. We screwed up.” She looks at Anthony and then at me. “Nothing we say will make it okay. I’m so sorry, boys.” Her voice cracks.

Aunt Teresa squeezes Mom’s hand. “We kept putting it off. And?—”

“ I kept putting it off,” Mom interrupts. “Life was so perfect, all of us together and you boys so happy. I couldn’t bear to risk changing that.”

She’s right. Life was perfect when we were kids. And suddenly I find myself wishing not that they’d told us years ago but that they’d never told us at all. Maybe life would still feel perfect.

“We had a chance to do the right thing—many chances—and we were too scared to take them. We never wanted to hurt you two, but now here we are.” Mom gazes up at me with round, tearful eyes. “I just hope that eventually we can be forgiven.”

Her eyes lock on mine, full of hurt and asking for the kind of forgiveness I don’t want to give her.

How can I forgive something I don’t understand?

But without warning, I think of Ruby and I have to look away.

Maybe in some small way, I do understand.

I kept a secret from Ruby because I was scared of what would change.

And even if I did it to protect what we had, I hurt her more than the truth ever could have.

“That was a complete waste of time,” I mutter to Anthony as we sit across from each other at the old greasy spoon in Lakeside. When he doesn’t lift his eyes from the laminated menu, I look at him. “Wasn’t it?”

He shrugs. “I guess. I don’t know.”

“I mean, they just told us nothing. Their story is that it was too hard to be honest, so they weren’t?”

“That about sums it up. So you coming to the block party Labor Day weekend?”

“That’s the last thing I want to think about right now.”

He shrugs. “Hey, they took the mushroom Swiss burger off the menu.”

“Dude, what the fuck are you so chipper about?” I demand. Even the idea of food is repulsive. I knock the menu I haven’t touched across the table.

“I’m not chipper.” The corners of his mouth turn up.

“You’re literally smiling right now,” I say irritably.

He shrugs. “Don’t take this the wrong way, okay? But the fact that you’re this upset about what our parents did ...”

“Makes you happy? Real nice, Ant.”

“No, I mean the fact they did this to both of us, not just me. And the fact you’re struggling with it. When I found out, my world just about blew apart. Here I thought Mr. Perfect would take it all in stride when he found out. Turns out you’re an angry mess just like I was.”

“Was?”

“Yeah. I had my freak-out and I think I’m over it. Guess I’ll see you on the other side.”

I stare at him, the words in my brain fighting for space on my lips. He’s happy I’m in the same shitty place he was in years ago? He’s a total asshole. And he’s right. I pick up my menu and shake my head. “You’re a dick.”

He smiles. “Yeah. And we share half our DNA, brother.”

After he orders, he asks me about my shoulder, how practices are going, what our season is looking like.

It’s the first time I can remember him asking about my life as a college football player.

I watch him eat, snatching a few fries off his plate, and in a bizarre contrast to the weirdness of the day’s events, our conversation is as normal as it’s been in years.

No passive-aggressive comments, no simmering anger.

And for once Anthony carries most of the conversation.

When we’ve covered football and Ant’s girlfriend and his job and Ruby, there’s a minute of silence before he says, “You know, when you were born, they were only a year older than you are now?”

I did know that, but it’s wild to really think about.

“And then a year later, I came along. Can you imagine that? Two years from now having two babies?”

I make a noncommittal noise. “Birth control is a thing.”

“Yeah, but . . .” He shrugs.

“So you just forgive them?”

He snorts. “No.”

“Then what? They kept our own story a secret from us.”

He nods. “Fucked up. But they thought they were protecting us.”

“And protecting themselves.”

“Yeah, but ... is that so hard to understand?”

Trying to protect everybody, including myself? I almost laugh at how easy that is to understand. That’s my entire life. Why does the universe insist on humbling me just when I was starting to enjoy feeling self-righteous?

“What are you smiling at?” Anthony asks.

“Am I?”

He laughs. “Uh, yeah.”

“I don’t even know.” I grab the bottle of ketchup and squeeze some onto the extra plate on the table, then take a few of his fries. “How different do you think it would have been if they told us when we were little?”

“You mean if we actually knew we were brothers instead of just acting like brothers twenty-four hours a day?”

“Yeah, that.”

He motions for me to give him the ketchup, and I hand it over. “Not different at all, I’m thinking.”

I drop Anthony at his girlfriend’s house on my ride back to Shafer.

At home, I open the fridge even though I’m not hungry and come face-to-face with the meatballs Ruby left me.

I never thought a pan of food would make me sad, but sadness is exactly what slaps me across the face.

Crushing sadness, the kind I haven’t felt since I was a scared, lonely kid.

How did everything in my life get turned upside down so fast?

I close the fridge. I don’t know what to do now, tomorrow, the next time I have to see my family.

Emptiness cuts through me, as sharp and unfamiliar as if I’d just lost my sight.

What would Ruby do if she were here? Make me a plate, first of all.

I force myself to pull out the food she made and heat up a portion.

Would she join my pity party and talk shit about my parents?

Probably for a few minutes, but then she’d pivot, not wanting either of us stuck in those feelings.

She’s always looking for a way out. She’d probably tell me how good I have it compared to having Richard and Catherine for parents.

Actually, I’m wrong. I don’t think she’d do any of that. She’d keep her mouth shut, but her eyes would tell me she gets it. She knows what it’s like to have a secret thrown into the open that should never have been a secret in the first place.

Even though I’m not hungry, I eat everything on my plate because it’s perfect. Then I put the rest of what she made in the freezer. I need it to last.