Impostor (5 page)

Chapter Eight

I
don’t say anything. I
can’t
say anything. I feel my jaw drop open, but I can’t force my lips to move or exhale the breath required to make a sound.

Logically, I know this can’t be my mother. I was there the day she died. I attended her funeral, dropped a single white rose onto her coffin as it was lowered into the ground. It’s as though my eyes are betraying me. She’s just as I remember her—long blond hair, now wet from the rain that started up soon after Rollins took off. Her eyes are bright blue, just like mine. Only her clothes are different. Instead of the ripped jeans and band T-shirts my mother wore when I was little, this woman is wearing khakis and a button-down blouse under a peacoat. She is completely soaked. Mascara trails down her cheeks, but I can’t tell if it’s from the weather or if she’s been crying.

After a moment, I realize this must be my mother’s sister, Lydia. She’s the aunt I never met. My father explained she moved to California a long while ago and lost touch with the family.

“You must be Sylvia,” the woman says. “You look just like your mother.”

I clear my throat. “So do you.”

“Who’s here?” My father’s voice emerges behind me.

“Hello, Jared,” Lydia says, almost businesslike. “It’s been a long time.”

I turn to examine my father’s face. He looks like he’s in shock, just as I was a moment ago. He’s probably struggling with the very same emotions that flooded me—longing for his wife, who passed away years ago, confusion that someone who looks so much like her could just show up on our doorstep, unannounced. He opens his mouth and then closes it again, like he’s not sure what to say. I reach out and touch his arm.

“I’m sorry to just show up like this.” The woman gestures to the yellow Toyota parked in the driveway. “I can leave if you like.”

“No,” my father says quickly. “No, don’t go. I’m sorry. I just . . . wasn’t prepared. Come on in. It’s raining buckets outside. Don’t you have an umbrella?”

I notice a small suitcase on the porch beside Lydia. She stoops down to grab the handle and then walks through the door that my father is holding open for her. I take a step back. It’s so strange to see my aunt here, in my house. She honestly looks like my mother’s ghost.

“I didn’t bring an umbrella,” Lydia explains, pulling off her soggy coat. “It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment-type thing.”

My father takes the coat from her and hangs it on the coat-tree. “You must be freezing. Would you like some coffee?”

Shivering, Lydia nods. “That would be great.”

I hear a thump come from the living room, followed by giggling. If Mattie were to walk into the room right this second, I realize, she would be in for a shock.

“I’m going to go let my sister know that you’re here,” I say.

“Sure.” Lydia gives me a knowing look, as if she understands that I might need to prepare my sister so she isn’t alarmed by the Mom clone standing in our front entryway. She follows my father into the kitchen.

I spin around and head into the living room to find the movie on pause and Mattie and Regina practicing herkie jumps.

“Come on, Vee, you know how to do this one,” Mattie calls out.

Ignoring her invitation, I throw her a serious look. “I need to talk to you. Right. Now.”

Regina apparently catches the grave tone of my voice because she mutters something about promising her mother she’d be home for dinner, grabs her jacket, and heads for the door.

“What’s up?” Mattie asks. “Does this have to do with Rollins?”

I wince, remembering the awkward way Rollins rushed out the door, but then I push the memory aside. I have bigger things to worry about right now. Like why my aunt suddenly decided to show up after all this time. Something must have happened in California, and I’m dying to know what.

“No.” I grab her arm and pull her onto the couch. “Do you remember Mom talking about her older sister? The one who ran off when she was in high school?”

Mattie frowns. “Um, kind of. Wasn’t her name Olivia?”

“Lydia,” I correct her. “And she’s in the kitchen right now, drinking coffee with Dad.”

Mattie’s face lights up. “Are you kidding me? Our long-lost aunt is in our house right now? Awesome!”

She jumps up, ready to run into the kitchen. I grab her hand.

“There’s something else you need to know.”

Mattie waits impatiently for me to go on.

“She looks a
lot
like Mom.”

Shrugging, Mattie says, “Well, duh. They were sisters.” She breaks free from my grasp and bolts out of the room.

I sigh, getting up to follow her. She can’t say I didn’t warn her.

When I reach the kitchen, I almost run into Mattie, who is frozen in the doorway. Sure enough, she is stunned by Lydia’s appearance.

Lydia and my father are seated at the table, each with a coffee cup in their hands. The scene really is disorienting. It’s as if my mother took a break from her afterlife to stop by and have a cup of joe with my father.

Lydia sets her coffee cup down and rises. “Matilda? My God. You’re so grown-up. So beautiful.”

My sister’s eyes well up with tears, and I wonder how long she’s been waiting for someone to say those exact words. How fitting for her to hear them from a woman who could be my mother’s doppelgänger.

Mattie releases a shuddering sob and then rushes into Lydia’s arms. I watch them for a moment, and then look at my father, wondering what he makes of all this. His face is twisted into a little frown.

It is decided that Lydia will stay in Mattie’s room for the evening, and Mattie will sleep in my room. After my father gives Lydia a little tour, he hands her a couple of towels and leaves her in the bathroom to get washed up.

My father, Mattie, and I sit around the kitchen table. Mattie has a million questions about Lydia. I keep my mouth shut and listen.

“Why has she been in California all this time? Why did she never come to see us?”

My father rubs his temples wearily. “She and your mother had a huge fight over a boy back when they were in high school. Lydia accused your mom of stealing her boyfriend. She took a CD that your mom had saved up for, U2’s
The Joshua Tree
, I think it was. . . .” Dad pauses to smile faintly. “And broke it into tiny pieces over your mother’s bed.”

I bite my thumbnail. “Is that it? She broke one of Mom’s CDs?”

“It was her favorite CD,” my father says. “And you know how your mother felt about her music. Plus, Lydia said some really terrible things, like how she’d destroy everything your mother ever loved. Shortly after, she ran away, and she took your mother’s college fund with her. As far as I know, that’s the last time the two ever saw each other.”

“Should we be letting her stay with us if she’s so terrible?” I ask.

My father shrugs. “She’s family. Where else would she stay? Besides, that was all a long time ago. People do change, honey.”

I look away. There’s an undercurrent in his words, almost as if he is referring to himself. After all, we recently found out that my father had an affair when my mother was dying of cancer. He had a baby out of wedlock and never told us. Only in the past couple of months have I really started to trust him again.

Mattie pokes me in the side. “Lighten up, Vee. It’s going to be fun, having her stay with us. She’ll have so many stories to tell us about Mom when she was a kid. Don’t you think, Dad?”

My dad forces his lips into a smile. “I’m sure she will.”

I don’t blame Mattie for her enthusiasm. She’s always complained that she doesn’t have any memories of our mother. Maybe Mattie is right. Lydia might be able to tell us things about our mother that my father never could. I’ve always wondered if she could slide. Maybe Lydia can confirm my suspicions.

“How long is she going to stay with us?” I look at my father.

“A few weeks.”

“Did you ask her why she came back
now
? I mean, it’s been more than twenty years. Why didn’t she come back when you guys got married? Or when me and Mattie were born? Or at least when Mom
died
?”

He sighs. “I suspect that she’s feeling very guilty for missing out on all that, Vee. Maybe she wasn’t ready yet.”

This answer doesn’t fully satisfy me. There has to be more to her sudden appearance. Why is she here
now
?

As Mattie and I walk down the hall to my bedroom, the bathroom door opens. Steam escapes from within, and Lydia appears, toweling her hair dry. My father loaned her his bathrobe to wear. It’s huge on her, but she doesn’t seem to mind. It makes me feel strange, seeing her wrapped up in his clothes. I remember my mother stealing that same robe, claiming that it was so much roomier and more comfortable than her own.

“Girls, I want to thank you so much for letting me stay. I know it must be strange. After all, this is the first time we’ve met. But I just know we’re going to be great friends, the three of us.” She flashes a bright smile.

Mattie doesn’t miss a beat. “My catsa sue catsa. Or something. I’m not all that great at Spanish.”

Lydia laughs. “That wasn’t my favorite class, either.”

“Do you need anything?” I ask. “Toothbrush? Another pillow?”

She holds up a pink toothbrush. “I’m covered.”

“Well, good night then.” I open my bedroom door.

“Sweet dreams,” Lydia says, reaching out and ruffling Mattie’s hair. Something about the gesture irks me, but I can’t articulate what it is. Mattie just smiles and follows me into my room.

After I close my door behind us, Mattie sighs happily. “This is going to be great.”

I nod, but inside I’m not sure I agree.

Chapter Nine

A
s Mattie strips off her jeans and pink top and shimmies into her pajamas, I run a brush through my hair. My weariness comes on all at once. First the thing with Rollins, and then an aunt who I’ve never met before showing up on our doorstep. Yawning, I change into an oversized Radiohead T-shirt.

Mattie slips under the covers, her cheeks glowing. “Isn’t she beautiful?” she asks as I lie down next to her.

I punch my pillow. “Yeah. She looks just like Mom.”

Mattie is quiet then for a moment, just staring up at the ceiling. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her like this. Peaceful. Hopeful, even. Finally, she flips over and props her chin up with the palm of her hand. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Even though I want badly to just turn over and go to sleep, I force a smile. “Sure. What’s up?”

“There’s this guy . . .” Mattie says softly, her eyes bright.

“Yeah . . . ?” I prompt, my faux smile turning genuine. In this moment, she reminds me so much of the old Mattie, the outgoing one with a million friends and a different crush every week.

Her face reddens slightly. “Russ White.”

I cover my mouth, trying to hide my amusement. “Really.” Russ White is a tall, good-looking senior with glasses. The reason I’m so surprised is that he’s not Mattie’s type. He’s not popular in the usual way—he’s not athletic or party-obsessed. He’s actually my age, but he’s so smart he skipped a grade in elementary school. Known for being kind to everyone, he has an infectious smile and a great sense of humor. Everyone likes him, but I’ve never known him to have a girlfriend.

My sister rolls onto her back. “Of course. He’s hot.”

I cock my head to the side. It’s true. He is hot, in a studious sort of way.

Mattie kicks one of her legs up in the air and examines her pedicure. She starts to ramble, explaining the story of how she met Russ.

“I was in the library trying to check out a book for my history project, but Mrs. Nelson was saying I owed a fine for some vampire book I checked out at the beginning of the year. I told her I paid it already, but she wouldn’t believe me. Russ must have overheard us because he came over and paid Mrs. Nelson. After I checked out the book, he introduced himself to me. And he asked me to go to a movie with him! Do you think Dad will let me go? I know he’s a senior, but . . .”

“Yeah, he’s a senior, but he’s my age. It’s not that weird. You guys are only two years apart. How about this? Rollins and I will go with you. Maybe we can see the new
Scar
film.” The words are out of my mouth before I remember the weirdness between Rollins and me. Will the embarrassment of tonight fade before next weekend? I hope so.

Mattie throws her arms around me. “Really? That would be great.” After a beat, she pulls away and rolls over, facing the wall. “Night,” she says.

“Night,” I tell her, reaching to turn out the lamp on my bedside table. As I drift off, I think to myself how nice it is that Mattie’s able to confide in me about these sorts of things. Six months ago, we never talked like this. I feel a kinship with her that I’ve never felt before. I wonder if, sometime soon, I might be able to tell her
my
biggest secret.

A loud clattering wakes me.

The noise is coming from downstairs.

Mattie is still fast asleep, so I gently push back the covers and swing my feet onto the floor. The carpet mutes my footsteps as I cross the room. In the hallway, I see that the door to Mattie’s room is closed, but my father’s door is standing wide open. I peek inside, but the bed is empty.

Another crash startles me.

It seems to be coming from the living room.

I tiptoe down the stairs.

My hands are shaking, my heart ricocheting off my rib cage. What if there’s an intruder? What if my father is fighting with him? I look around for some sort of weapon, but there’s nothing.

When I reach the landing, I peek around the corner. My father stands with his back to me. He seems to be going through the pictures on the bookshelf, grabbing one after another and throwing them to the floor. There’s a pile of broken glass at his feet.

He grabs a wedding portrait and flings it down. Jagged pieces bounce off the carpet and land near my feet.

“Dad?”

He freezes. Turns slowly in my direction.

“Dad? What are you doing?”

He takes a few dazed steps toward me. The look in his eyes is strange, as if he’s not aware of his actions, as if he’s not even there. It reminds me of that day in English class, when I seemed to lose control of my body. It was like I was there, but not really. Like someone else had taken my place.

“Dad?”

The cloudy expression clears, and he shakes his head. He makes eye contact with me and seems to recognize my face. “Vee? What the hell? What’s going on?” Bewildered, he looks at the mess on the floor.

“Um. You were throwing pictures on the floor. Don’t you remember?”

I can tell from the look on his face that he doesn’t. At all. Suddenly I think I might know who’s behind his strange behavior and my car accident.

Someone is sliding into us.

Someone who just happened to show up for the first time in years.

“Everything okay in here?”

I turn to find Aunt Lydia standing in the doorway, tying the sash on my father’s robe, concern etched into her features.