Finding Purgatory (11 page)

“Hey, Em?” she said after a moment.

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t talk about your baby’s father?”

Emily was quiet for so long, Tori almost apologized. “I don’t think about him, really.” Her tone was sad when she spoke. “Isn’t that pathetic?”

“Does he know about the kid?”

“Well, yeah.” Her tone made it clear she thought that was a stupid question. “That’s only the right thing to do.”

Tori grunted and scowled at the sky.

“What about you? You never talk about your baby daddy, either.”

Tori’s scowl darkened. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“That good, huh?” Emily sighed. “Victor—he’s okay. He’s so smart, it’s ridiculous, and he’s very cute, so I guess that’s a plus. But he kind of wants to forget he’s going to be a dad. Which is fine. He’s a big dork. It’s hard to imagine him with a kid.”

“But you’re okay with it?”

Emily squirmed and shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve got it better than most of the other girls. My parents aren’t rich, but they aren’t destitute. And they’re being really supportive, you know?”

Tori hummed in acknowledgment. “So is that why you got preggo? Because you thought it was glamorous?”

“I don’t know.” Her hands rested on her bulge, one below, one above. “I wasn’t really trying to get pregnant. I don’t think. I don’t know. Oh, fuck.” Her voice cracked, and she wiped at her eyes. “Fucking hormones. I hate this shit.”

She looked so pensive, it reminded Tori of Brook. It was a Pavlovian response to want to comfort the other girl. She reached over and rubbed her shoulder.

Emily took a deep breath before she could continue. “It’s just that everyone always seems to be really happy about babies. They were always a good thing before. When my brother . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t know. It was a really bad time, it’s still kind of a bad time, and I wanted to be happy. I wanted my family to be happy.”

Tori coaxed Emily into a sitting position so she could hug her. “It’s okay.”

It took a few minutes, but Emily got her sniffles under control. She pulled away, wiping her eyes with her long sleeves. “Gah. Let’s change the subject.”

“Alright, sure. What do you want to talk about?”

“Um. Tell me about your sister.”

“Okay.” Tori grappled for a handful of seconds. “She was married before. With a baby.”

Emily looked up. “Oh. Okay?”

“Yeah. They died. It’s super weird because she doesn’t talk about them at all. Like I don’t even know her baby’s name. Isn’t that bizarre?” Tori babbled more to distract Emily than anything else. It felt hypocritical to be irritated at Ani for being secretive. Ani didn’t push Tori to talk, and Tori returned the favor. That was that.

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

“It makes me really curious, but why would it bother me?”

Emily’s expression was oddly furtive as she looked away and shrugged. “I don’t know. What if, I mean, do you know where they died?”

“If they died together, I figured it had to be some kind of accident. Unless it was like one of those weird coincidences. You know, like if he had a brain aneurysm while he was carrying her up some steps or something.”

“What if the steps were in your house?”

“Ew.” Tori wrinkled her nose and shuddered. “No. That’s not possible. I mean, she’d have moved if they died in the house, right?”

“Who knows.” Emily looked away again. “People do weird things when someone dies.”

“That’s . . . agh. Thanks a lot. Now I’m never going to be able to get that out of my head.”

“There’s got to be another way of finding out. Aren’t death certificates a matter of public record? Or you can Google Ani. You can find out all sorts of things by Googling someone’s name.”

Tori made a face. “That’s kind of stalkerish, isn’t it?”

“No.” Emily’s defensive tone made Tori think she’d probably done it before. “Everyone does it. And besides, you live in her house. Don’t you think you deserve to know certain things? Like, what if she’s a serial killer or something?”

“I don’t think Google will be able to tell me if she’s murdered anyone,” Tori said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s too . . .” She gave a dramatic shake, miming brushing the filth off her body.

Emily seemed reluctant to drop the subject, but she finally sighed and lay back down. “Okay.” Hesitantly, she reached over and patted Tori’s still flat stomach. “So why did you do it?”

In retrospect, Tori had no idea why she told the truth. She hadn’t admitted this to anyone, not to Ani or Shane or even Brooklyn. Emily was still an almost-stranger to her, and yet the truth tumbled out and away before Tori could stop it. “He told me he loved me, and for fifteen minutes in the dark, I let myself believe it.”

Chapter 10: Background

“T
his is silly. Do you really find it preferable to go to the library every time you have homework to do?”

Tori crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at the gift sitting in front of her as if it were an awful Christmas sweater instead of a brand-new laptop. She’d been watching TV in the living room, minding her own business when Ani set the thing in front of her. “I mean it’s kind of a pain in the ass. The computers at the library are so slow, but I’ve never had a problem.”

Ani pointed at her. “That isn’t true. Remember last week you forgot about your report and you had to use my computer?”

Tori grimaced.

“Exactly. You were lucky I didn’t have to work.”

“Jesus, if it was such a big deal, you should have told me. It’s only ten points off if I turn it in late.”

Ani tilted her head up toward the ceiling and growled. She actually growled. “Tori, for Christ’s sake. The point is life happens. A computer is a very useful tool for every adult. That’s all there is to it.”

Tori grunted and hunkered down on the couch.

“Would it kill you to just be grateful for something?” Ani asked, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch with a sigh.

With a frown, Tori considered this. She’d thought she was trying
not
to be ungrateful. Wasn’t that the whole point of not accepting gifts she hadn’t earned? But when Ani put it that way, Tori could kind of see her point. She was pitching a fit when all her sister had done was dare to give her a computer. What a horrible person.

A softer expression came over Ani’s face as she looked over. Tori thought she saw a moment of uncertainty flit over her sister’s features before Ani folded her arms over her chest, pouted her lip out, furrowed her eyebrows, and slouched down on the couch.

It took Tori a minute to understand she was being made fun of. Her eyebrows arched for a fraction of a second before she slid down further. Not to be outdone, Ani slid down so she was almost hanging off the couch.

They both stared at each other, lips quirking as they tried to keep a straight face.

Finally, Tori had to laugh. “You look like a jackass.”

“Pot meet kettle.” Ani straightened up. She readjusted herself so her body was angled toward Tori. “Look, I told you before—if Mom and Dad would have had time to plan, it’s not like they would have left you high and dry. They would have wanted you to have these things, and it’s practical.”

Tori felt a flash of irritation. A few smartass remarks came to mind. She could have called Ani out, reminded her it wasn’t their parents who had left her high and dry, it was her sister. But she was so tired of her own anger. It was a conjoined twin—alive with a mind of its own and attached to her.

“You think they would have bought me a computer?” she asked instead.

“Do you know anything about them?”

Tori huffed. “Who the heck do you think would have told me anything? That was your job.”

“I’m sorry.” Ani’s tone was soft. “You’re right. That was a stupid question.” She paused, worrying the fringe edge of a pillow between her fingers. “Do you remember them at all?”

Tori rubbed her hands together in a fitful gesture. “I don’t know. Half the time I think I made everything up.”

“Tell me what you remember.”

Giving voice to these maybe-memories was difficult. Tori had only told one other person what she remembered. It was dumb to be so protective of moments that might not have even happened. Either Ani had been there herself, or she could confirm they weren’t real.

That idea didn’t sit well at all. Maybe her memories were no more than wishful fantasies, but they were precious to her. They were all she had of her parents.

She cleared her throat, deciding being afraid of the truth was pointless. “Mom sang a lot. And I would try to sing with her, but I didn’t know the right words. She would tell me to teach her.”

Ani laughed. She tapped the pads of her fingers against her lips. “You were such a little diva.” Despite her derisive words, there was a smile to her voice. “When you would sing the wrong words, we would try to tell you the right ones, but you weren’t having it. You would make a face and yell, ‘I do it my own way!’ ” Her expression was far off, remembering. “If you want the absolute truth, it used to annoy the crap out of me, but then, most everything about you at the time annoyed me.”

“Yeah. I guess having a baby sister around when you’re sixteen would suck.”

“Well, there was that and the fact I was jealous of you.”

“Jealous?” The word sounded wrong in her mouth, nonsensical in her ears. Ani didn’t have anything to be jealous about.

“Mom and Dad were sixteen and seventeen when they had me.”

“Really?” Tori considered this and shook her head. “I guess stupidity runs in the family.”

Ani’s answering glare was withering, but she continued. “Mom was being raised by her grandparents, Dad by a single mother. Everyone told them they couldn’t do it. They were so determined to make me perfect to show everyone how wrong they were, they went a little overboard.”

Tori sat up, defensiveness picking a fight with discomfort in her belly. “What do you mean?” Her tone was too sharp. “Don’t try to tell me they . . .” She thought of Brooklyn’s mother and how the girl was forever terrified of stepping one foot out of line. There was no part of her that wanted to believe her parents could have been anything like that, but she had to know. “Were they . . . did they . . .”

“Oh.” Ani looked astonished as she figured out what Tori was getting at. “No. They never hurt me. They never even spanked me. It’s just that they were hard on me. Strict. I had a lot of rules, and it was very difficult sometimes to live up to their expectations.

“But by the time you were born, they were more easygoing.” She gave a small smile. “The way they were raising you was very different from my experience, and I’m sure I didn’t appreciate it.”

“What else?” Despite herself, Tori was enthralled, desperate for more.

“They were big dorks.” Ani’s smile was broader then. “Dad used to say everyone was shocked when the two biggest nerds, so shy hardly anyone knew what their voices sounded like, were the ones who got pregnant in high school.

“They loved history.” She smirked. “When I was born, they were obsessed with all things Greece. Lucky me, right? You should be glad they were on to the kings and queens by the time you were born.”

“Heh.” Tori had to smile. She didn’t particularly like her name, but it was better than Antigone to be sure.

“And yes, Mom was always singing. She loved all things musical.” Ani’s smile died, and she shrank backward on the couch.

“What?” Tori didn’t miss the shift in atmosphere, and it confused her.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this. I don’t know if it would upset you.”

“I already know how this story goes. One way or another, they’re still going to be dead at the end. What could be worse than that?”

“Fair point. I was just thinking of the last time I saw them alive. They were arguing.”

“Oh, that’s fun,” Tori muttered.

“No, it was fine. It was playful arguing.” Ani looked up, watching Tori with cautious eyes as she continued. “They were going to have another baby.” She paused, but when Tori didn’t react, she went on. “Mom wanted to name it Anastasia if it was a girl. Dad was furious because he hated that movie with a passion. He said he didn’t like anything that twisted the real history of a girl who’d been brutally murdered with dancing and singing and talking bats.”

They were both quiet for a long few minutes. “I could have had a sister.” She was speaking out loud, but she wasn’t really talking to Ani. Her heart ached for lost possibilities. She remembered watching Declan and Sebastian, the brothers from her foster home. Though their fights had sometimes shaken the house, they always had each other’s backs. Always.

Lost in thought, she’d all but forgotten Ani was there until she heard her pained whisper. “You do have a sister.”

Tori’s mood swung. Ani didn’t have any right to be hurt that Tori didn’t feel a familial connection toward her. It was her fault.

But then it struck her. She could suddenly understand why Ani might have been so jealous. She’d been near adulthood when Tori was born. If their parents hadn’t died, she would have watched her little sisters grow up with a different life than she’d had.

All her life, Tori had daydreamed about what it would have been like, how much less messed up she would be, if her parents had lived. It would have been better, no doubt, but like Ani, she wouldn’t be without her own little quirks and neuroses.

“Can I go with you the next time you visit their grave?” Tori asked. Her eyes narrowed when Ani sucked in a sharp breath. “You do, don’t you? Go to their graves sometimes? Like on their birthdays or whatever?” When Ani stared forward with a blank expression, Tori balked. “You don’t go.”

It seemed wrong to her somehow. “Do you even go to your husband’s grave? Your kid’s?”

Ani stood up and gathered their long empty glasses. “They aren’t really there. They aren’t anywhere I can reach them.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as Tori.

For a minute, Tori fumed. For once, she didn’t know what to say. She wanted to hurl insults at her sister. It was just fucked-up, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. For so long, she’d wanted a connection to her parents, any connection. Ani seemed to take it for granted, but she was right, in a way. It wasn’t as though their parents could sit up and talk to them. “Whatever,” she finally muttered.