Page 184 of The Sun Sister

‘I was just trying to work out whether Mother Hale would have been here when you were. And yes, she would have been.’

I glanced at this woman who may or may not have held me in her arms, then read the words engraved on the plaque next to the statue. Clara Hale had initially cared for her own three children, then begun taking the neighbourhood children into her care. Eventually, she had started looking after babies whose parents suffered from substance abuse and HIV. Apparently, in 1985, President Ronald Reagan himself had called her a ‘true American hero’.

I turned to Miles. ‘So the fact I was found here...does it mean that my mom was an addict or died of AIDS? Like, did she take in regular babies too, or what?’

‘I don’t know, but yes, she was known for nursing babies of addicts – especially heroin – through their inherited addiction. Having said that, no baby was ever refused entry, and I’m sure many desperate new moms beat a path to her door whether or not they were addicts.’

I looked up at Miles, wondering if he was just trying to make me feel better.

‘Wow, right, well...Should I take a picture or something? Post it on Facebook and show all my fans the place where I was found?’ I rolled my eyes at the irony, but I was suddenly feeling close to tears.

‘Hey, come here.’ Miles pulled me close to him and gave me a hug. ‘You don’t know anything right now, so stop second-guessing. Maybe it’s time you went off and did some research on your long-lost family.’

‘Perhaps,’ I said, not really listening because I wassooenjoying the hug.

‘The good news is, honey, that wherever you came from, you turned out to be a real success story. And that’s the most important thing of all. Now,’ Miles said, pulling away from me and looking at his watch. ‘At the risk of seeming rude, how about I put you in a cab? I have a heap of work to catch up on after my three weeks of being AWOL and it’s pointless going downtown with you only to come back up again.’

‘I...okay, fine,’ I shrugged, as one came past and Miles hailed it.

‘Thanks for coming up here, Electra,’ he said as I got inside. ‘I’ll be in touch about Vanessa as soon as I hear anything. Take care now, and remember, call me anytime you need to.’

With a wave, Miles was gone, and I felt my heart drop like a stone. If I was honest, I’d been imagining lunch with him at one of those intimate hipster cafés; besides anything else, I was starving.

Twenty minutes later, I walked under the canopy of my apartment building and saw that even Tommy wasn’t at his post ready to greet me. I went inside and up in the elevator, feeling tearful. Seeing the miserable concrete shed that represented what little help kids like Vanessa could expect, then the truth of my own sad origins, plus the fact that I’d felt so close to Miles as we’d walked through Harlem together only for him to dump me back down to earth and shove my backside into a cab, as if he didn’t care about me at all...

Trying not to dwell, I got a Coke and some leftover lentil soup from the fridge and sat down to eat, but immediately felt sick to my stomach as guilt ran through me like the streak of designer lightning on my chest. How could I sit here in my flashy apartment, with a closet full of even flashier clothes, feeling sorry for myself while there was so much suffering going on not more than a few miles away?

I drank the Coke can dry and grabbed another, feeling that scary black cloud beginning to descend – the one that I’d always ‘medicated’ against with alcohol or drugs. I checked my cell and saw it was just past one thirty. My AA meeting wasn’t until five p.m., which gave me three and a half hours to sit here with only the insides of my currently messed-up head for company.

‘Shit,’ I muttered, knowing I needed to talk to someone. Picking up my cell, I saw there was a missed call from Zed. I automatically went to return the call, then stopped myself just in time. Zed wasnotgood news, because he’d arrive laden with all the substances I needed to steer clear of. I switched to my address book and scrolled down to find Mariam’s number. Even though the last thing I wanted to do was to bother her on her first day off since I got back, it had been drummed into me by everyone around me that if I was struggling, I had to make a call and get help.

I dialled the number and it rang, then went to voicletter.

I pressed the end call button; she was probably having a wonderful day, spending quality time with her family...

‘Her family,’ I muttered. ‘And where is mine? Where do I belong...? Yeah, right! In a home for unwanted babies!’

I even wished that Stella was in town so I could talk to her; find out how come she’d let her granddaughter end up there. Feeling my anger rising, I knew I needed to divert my attention urgently. I stood up and walked through the living room and onto the terrace, holding my cell and waiting for Mariam to call me back. Looking over the tops of the densely packed trees that covered Central Park, I sat down and then thought about Miles, and the way he’d made it so obvious today that ours was only a business relationship. I decided I should have an imaginary conversation with Fi about the situation.

Fi: ‘So, Electra, how do you feel about Miles?’

Me: ‘I’m...confused,’ I admitted.

Fi: ‘And why do you think you’re confused?’

Me: ‘Because, even though he’s not my type, AT ALL,’ I underlined, ‘I think I might have feelings for him.’

Fi: ‘Okay. And are these feelings for a friend or a more emotional attachment, do you think?’

I paused as I considered this question.

‘Initially, I guess I thought it was just friends; he’s the first person I’ve ever met who I could identify with. I mean, he’s black, brought up in a middle-class family, got a scholarship to Harvard and has had a successful career. Oh yeah, and of course a drug problem.’

Fi: ‘I can imagine that was a very powerful experience. Did it make you feel less alone?’

Me: ‘Yeah, it did, a lot. Like, maybe because we were in rehab, I didn’t have to pretend to be anyone other than myself. I was...’ – I searched the air for the right expression – ‘comfortable with him. Like I didn’t have to explain anything to him.’

Fi: ‘So when did that feeling of having a friend tip over into something romantic?’