A nice looking middle-aged man walked out drying his hands on a white dishtowel. He smiled at me.
“Morgan?” he asked.
I frowned. Who the hell was this guy, and how the hell did he know my name.
“Do I know you?” I managed to get out.
“No. You don’t. I’m Jason, your mother’s husband,” he offered with his hand.
I cautiously took his hand. She talked about me. He knew who I was. I wasn’t expecting this. I was expecting to hear that she never told him about me or Justin. How did he know from looking at me who I was? She must have pictures. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t speak. I was speechless. No words would come out.
“You have no idea how happy you are going to make your mother,” he smiled.
“Is she here?” I managed.
“No, she had to take Caroline to the dentist this morning. She won’t be long. Are you hungry? We were just getting ready to have brunch. Would you join me?”
“Sure.” What else was I going to do? Sit outside and wait for her?
He led me to the front deck facing the ocean. There were two families, three other couples, and two tables with pairs of women. We sat at a table, and a lady wearing shorts with a palm tree on the right leg asked what we would like to drink. I’m not sure why I noticed the palm tree or why it was even significant. I just noticed.
I asked for coffee. I hadn’t had any yet. Jason got an iced tea.
“How did you know who I was?” I asked Jason.
He smiled.
“I will show you after we eat,” he answered.
We didn’t talk about anything personal. Jason explained life at the beach house. He told me that they had eight rooms and were booked most of the year. He explained that they closed up for four weeks every year, two in the winter to celebrate the holidays without company, and two in late summer to vacation by themselves. I guessed that you would have to do that to keep your sanity, working where you lived twenty four seven.
I had a delicious Reuben on toasted French bread with Jason. I hate to say it, but I liked him. He talked about seven year old Caroline. He was a proud pop, and I envied the little girl who had a family, a real family.
“She looks a lot like you,” he said. “You can definitely tell that you two are sisters.”
Sisters…
I hadn’t thought about her like that, but she wasn’t my real sister. We had different dads. Wait. Justin and I had different dads, and I couldn’t imagine loving him anymore. That wasn’t fair to Caroline.
Jason led me back into the house and to a side of the house that I was sure was off limits to the guests. It was its own little house inside of a house. There was a small living room, opened to an eat in kitchen with a small table. There were three other doors that I presumed were bedrooms and probably a bathroom. I was mesmerized when I looked around at the wall of fame. The whole wall was plastered in pictures of not only Caroline, but Justin and me, as well.
I watched my little brother grow up in pictures on the wall. I brushed my finger over one of him sitting in front of a birthday cake with seven candles and a happy, toothless smile. It made me smile, but made me wonder, as well. Every last picture of me on the wall lied. If you didn’t know it, you would have thought that I too was the happiest girl on earth. Most of the pictures of me were when I was all fancied up and at one of Drew’s functions.
There were several of the two of us, and the one that I thought that I looked beautiful in brought back the after party memory. I had stayed locked in the empty gym eating fruit, naked for three days.
I felt a little better when I moved to the next picture of Justin. He was just a little guy and riding on the shoulders of a man who I presumed to be his dad. He was happy and the beautiful woman pushing him on the swing in the next one must have been his new mother.
“Morgan?” I heard my mother say. I knew that voice before I ever turned around. My heart took a plummet right to my stomach.
I cautiously turned to see her holding the hand of a seven year old mini me. I again was speechless, and couldn’t think of one God damn word to say. She let go of Caroline’s hand and embraced me. She cried. She really cried. She did miss me, and probably thought about me more than I had thought.
“Oh, my God, baby. I can’t believe that you are here.”
Baby? She never called me baby.
“Yeah.” That was it. That was the only word that I could think of.
My mom let go of me and walked back to Caroline. She squatted to her level and held her hand out for me to come.
“Caroline, do you know who this is?” she asked as she took my hand. I squatted too. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.
“My sister,” she smiled. I held out my hand and took her little hand into mine. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said.