“Shit,” she mumbled as she crouched and fished it out from beneath the night table next to her bed. “I told you not to call,” she said, assuming it was Ryan when she answered, not bothering to look at the screen.
“Oh,” a woman’s voice said. “I’m sorry . . . I thought . . .” Her voice caught on the words, and Brooke realized her mistake.
“Oh my god,” she said, breathless. “Natalie?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, god,” Brooke said again. “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else. I mean, I know you’re you—the lady from the registry told me you’re you—but I thought you were my boyfriend. Well, my ex-boyfriend. We just broke up.” She paused. “Sorry, I’m babbling.” Brooke gave a nervous laugh. “Can we start again?”
“Sure,” Natalie said, sounding just as tense and edgy as Brooke felt, which oddly made Brooke feel better. It dawned on her that Natalie didn’t know for sure that Brooke was actually her sister, either, and was likely struggling with all the same what-if scenarios that were spinning through Brooke’s head.
Brooke sat back down on her bed, stretched her legs out on the mattress, and leaned against her many pillows, deciding that for the time being, she would go with the assumption that this woman was, in fact, her sister. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Me, either,” Natalie said. “You have no idea.”
Brooke picked up one of her fuzzy throw pillows and squeezed it to her chest with one arm. “Is this the first time you’ve looked for me?” she asked. “I mean, it’s been a long time. I’m sure you don’t even remember me.”
“That’s actually sort of complicated,” Natalie said.
“How so?”
“I didn’t know about you. Not until last month.”
A shiver spider-crawled up Brooke’s spine. “I don’t understand.”
“My mom . . . well, that is, my parents . . . my adoptive parents, didn’t tell me that I had a sister. I always thought it was just me.”
Tears welled up in Brooke’s eyes. “How could they not tell you?” she asked, again wondering if this was actually her sister on the phone. Maybe this whole thing was a giant mistake.
“Like I said, it’s complicated.” It was quiet a moment until Natalie went on to explain how her parents had finally turned over her adoption file, and how she had gone to see Gina Ortiz.
“You saw Gina?”
“Yes,” Natalie said. “She said she always wished she could have found you a family.” She paused. “I also went back to Hillcrest and met Miss Dottie. She told me about a girl you were roommates with after the two of you aged out of the system. Zora Herzog. I went to see her, too.”
“Oh,” Brooke said, a little unsettled that this woman who could or could not be her sister had been digging around in her past. It made her feel exposed, a position she most decidedly did not enjoy.
“Did you live with her?”
“For a little while. Not long. Why?”
“Do you still see her?”
“No,” Brooke said, feeling a bit like she was being accused of something. “Did she say that I do?”
It took Natalie a few seconds to respond, and when she did, it was in a quiet, measured voice. “She said that you were a hooker.”
“What?” Brooke exclaimed. Her cheeks flushed hot and red. “That’s a lie. She’s out of her mind.”
“Okay,” Natalie said, but she didn’t sound totally convinced.
“Look,” Brooke began, “I did live with Zora for a couple of months after we left Hillcrest. We were both working at the same restaurant as hostesses and we knew we’d need to pool our money to find a decent place to live. But then she started dating this horrible guy who turned her on to drinking all the time and taking whatever pills they could get their hands on, so I moved out as soon as I could. I haven’t seen her in twenty years. Okay?” She realized she was ranting, but she couldn’t help it. She was furious that Zora had uttered such a nasty, blatant untruth.
“Okay,” Natalie said again, and this time, it sounded as though she believed Brooke. “I’m sorry for asking, but I just . . . I needed to know before . . .” She trailed off, and Brooke filled in the rest of the sentence.
“Before you decided if you wanted to meet me?” She felt a pinch inside her chest, like she’d been found guilty of something she had never done, but she also understood why Natalie would ask the question. If Brooke had been in her shoes, she supposed she would have done the same thing.
“Yes,” Natalie said. “I have kids, you know? I just needed—”
“It’s okay,” Brooke said, interrupting her. “I understand.”
“Thanks.”
An awkward silence fell between them, and Brooke flashed back to what it had felt like to hold her baby sister in her arms. She heard their mother’s voice, telling her to be a good, brave big sister. “I’d like to see you,” she said, and when Natalie didn’t respond, Brooke continued. “Do you want to see me?” Her voice was small, a fragile thing.
“Yes,” Natalie said. “I do. When do you want to meet?”