Third Date (24 page)

Reaching a door in the hall, Anna pushed it open, then stopped, turning to Layne for the first time since we entered. “Layne, I want you to know that regardless of how things go, I was really happy to meet you.” Her smile tugged to one side, then faded just as quickly, nudging him in with a quick snap of her head.

Stepping in, Layne walked in slow motion, his body rigid and anxious. This was the first time since we met that he even showed a glimpse to the fact he could be nervous. Sweat beaded up on the back of his neck, sprinkling across his forehead. His hands opened and closed, as they hung tightly by his side.

“Mom, Dad, this is Layne.” Fanning her arm, Anna stood like she was introducing their new lawyer, or potential business opportunity.

A gruff voice shot through the room, but not in happiness, or love; not in shock, or complete emotional overload. The voice had one question, and that question came from his father. “Who is that?”

Anna's eyes flicked my way, her brows dipping into her nose. “That's his girlfriend, Kiley.”

“Kinsley,” I said, correcting her. “Hello, Sir, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

I was waiting for Layne to speak, or burst, which ever came first. Looking up at him, his eyes stayed still, looking over the two people. He looked like he was soaking it all in, drowning himself in their appearance, taking mental notes on them so he would never forget their faces.

It was an intense moment, to watch him try and read them, understand them, and fit their faces into image of the people he had come from.

His mother finally made the first move, she stood holding her frail fingers gently to her lips. But she didn't cry, not even a single tear balanced on the edge of her lids. Her hair was deep silver, tight wrinkles framed her eyes and mouth.

Softly, she walked towards Layne, staring into his eyes. “Hello, Layne, I'm Charlotte, I'm...” Her pause seemed to go on forever, her words buried behind a brain that was turning a million miles a minute. “I'm your mother.” Cupping his shoulders, she looked him up and down.

“Hi, Charlotte, it's nice to finally meet you.” Layne's tone was soft, gentle. He looked like he had gone back in time, a certain nostalgia twinkled in his eyes.

“You can call me Mom, just Mom.” Pursing her lips, Charlotte held her chin on the back of her palm. “Wow, you're a handsome fella, and good Lord you two look so much alike.”

When she said the words it made my mind spin. She was right, Anna and Layne were spitting images of each other. But the more I looked over their parents, the harder things were for me to understand.

The two of them looked nothing like their parents, not one trace of either of them was in Anna or Layne. Maybe I was just analyzing it too much, you never knew where your traits would come from.

There was a long line of family heredity that could contribute to a child's appearance. Who was I to think they didn't look alike?

But I couldn't shake the gritty feeling riding my spine.

“Come you two, sit down, let's catch up.” Layne's father pressed back into his chair, his eyes darting between Layne and myself.

All the Galloway family found their respective seats. Mr. and Mrs. Galloway were perched in plush arm chairs resting side by side, Anna flopped herself onto a small chaise lounge chair that looked like it came from some old seventies porn flick. Layne and myself settled into a deep chocolate colored love seat, decorated with several fancy throw pillows.

The library was exactly how I would expect for a home like this. Every shelf was layered in books, a tall lamp rested in the back behind a dark wood desk, a long, sturdy iron coffee table filled the space between the Galloways and us.

“So, Layne, your sister tells me that you've been living up north.” Mr. Galloway started, folding his hands across his chest. “Do you like it up there?”

“I do, Sir. Everything I've worked so hard for is there, including Kinsley.” Wrapping his fingers into mine, Layne shifted on the small couch.

“Please, call me Dad.” Holding out his hand, Layne's father shook it in the air.

Flicking his eyes between his parents, Layne dropped his head into his chest. “I'm sorry, I'm not comfortable with that yet.”

“Alright, then you can call me Greg,” he said, fingers steepled over his lips. “We saw you're articles in Entrepreneur, they were rather impressive, Son.”

Layne's face flushed, his cheeks turning soft crimson. I wasn't sure what part of that comment made him warm, the compliment on his articles, or the fact Mr. Galloway called him son.

“You read them?” Layne's voice was soft, tenting in surprise and confusion.

“We did, and I can't help but notice the notoriety you received for them. It must have made your business boom.”

Layne's back went straight, his hand ruffling his hair and falling into his lap. “When... When did you read them?”

“When they came out of course.” Motioning to his wife, she leaned into his ear as he whispered in voiceless words. Turning back, his eyes fell hard, drawing a quick breath from Layne. “We were really impressed, Son. And now that you're here, I can tell you how proud of you I am.”

Wait... He read them when they were published?

Those articles came out over a year ago.

And he waited until now to contact Layne?

Layne dragged a hand over his chin, scrubbing his knuckles into the hollow of his neck. “I need to ask you guys something, and it's really important.”

Charlotte cut in, her hand touching Layne's knee with motherly precision. “Honey, you must have a lot of questions. And we'd love to answer them all, but how about we take this slow. Is that alright?”

Nodding, Layne's muscles stiffened, his jaw going taut. “Sure, I understand.”

But I watched the life drain from his face, all of his curiosity and fears stamped across his eyes in a momentary snap.

He didn't want to wait, he had waited long enough. But Layne was going to respect his mother's wishes.

I knew there wasn't a part of him that didn't want to lash out right that second and demand to be heard. The way his fingers dug into his thighs, his eyes glazing over and piercing the two people who could finally end the torment he had dealt with for years.

It wasn't so much the feeling of anger that I saw him force down and away, he was forcing away his disappointment.

I wanted to lighten the tension hanging like a thick blanket in the air, turning to Anna, I asked, “So, Anna, how old are you?”

Twirling a strand of her hair, she answered with just as much disinterest as she had the entire time. “Thirty.”

Thirty?

She's thirty...

Layne's twenty-nine. That's odd.

I wanted someone to pinch me and tell me I had heard her wrong. Anna was a year older than Layne, so why would his mother willingly put up her son for adoption if she already had a child?

The family didn't look like they were struggling, they didn't look like they had so little they couldn't afford two children. So why did she have to give him up?

Glancing at Layne, his face stayed motionless, staring off at the wall behind his father. He either hadn't heard the answer, or didn't connect the age difference.

I wanted to talk to him in private, fill him in on some of my concerns. How empty and hollow his family seemed to be with reuniting, how sour Anna was being for what should be a happy time, the fact she was older... The blatant fact that neither him or his sister resembled their parents in any way, or any of the paintings I had seen placed on the walls.

All of it was stuck on repeat in my mind, playing over and over on a track I couldn't force to stop.

But I didn't want to bring him down, or make him angry and upset with my questions. This was his day, the start to a new life for him, the closing of a chapter to his past.

How could I ever think of destroying that with my ridiculous thoughts?

People have reasons for doing things, I wasn't about to judge this woman or her husband for a choice they made in their past. There could be a million reasons they had to make a decision like that.

I had no right to question them or their motives for a choice they may not have even had.

“You're thirty? So you're a year older?” I tried to ask her without appearing to wary in my concern. Fiddling with my fingers in my lap, I forced a smile.

“Yeah, so?”

I could feel the Galloway's stares turn to razors, Greg pulled in a sharp breath, Charlotte's eyes grew two sizes. But neither one of them cut in to save her. They seemed to be waiting Anna out, watching her answers, and measuring her tone.

And all the while Layne sat oblivious, dancing through his own thoughts floating through his head.

“Nothing, I was just asking.”

“Yeah, I'm sure you're just asking.” Anna spun her finger around the necklace draping her throat, rolling her eyes.

Layne wrapped his hand firmly around my thigh, giving it an extra squeeze, finally stepping back into the conversation. “So I have an older sister, guess I'll have to start annoying you now to make up for the time gone by.” Chuckling nervously, his loose hand tapped his leg with spastic beats.

Clearing her throat, their mother stood and stepped to a wall riddled in books. Yanking out a large green book, she carried it back to her seat. “You want to see something, Layne?”

We were at the Galloway house for a few hours, Charlotte showed Layne pictures of Anna as a child, their home in the many stages of family ownership, and a hoard of pictures of the business her husband had created.

Charlotte claimed that's where Layne got his drive from to create a business of his own. And all the while, Anna sat in her chair, fiddling with her nails, and staring off into space.

Maybe I should talk to Anna in private?

“Excuse me, Anna, can you show me where the restroom is?” I asked, trying to take the opportunity to get her alone, and maybe figure out what was going on with her.

To watch a person sit so colorless by the side of her new found brother, it broke my heart. And I knew already that it bothered Layne, I wanted her to at least know that.

“Restroom?
What are we at school now?” Huffing under her breath, she shook her head.

“Anna,”
Charlotte snapped, her lids flexing wide as she angled her head. “Show our guest to the bathroom.”

“Fine.” Stiffly yanking herself out of the chair, Anna spoke over her shoulder. “It's this way.”

Following her down the hall, I tried to make small talk. I asked her about where she went to school, what she studied in college, anything to get her to open up to me.

Finally I had enough of her one word answers and eye rolls. “Anna, do you have a problem with us being here?”

She stopped short, her shoulders squaring straight. “What? No, why would I?”

“I don't know, you just seem like you don't care.”

“I care, I definitely care. Who are you to judge if I care or not, you don't know me.”

“You just don't seem interested in your brother, I'm trying to figure out why. You know he was really hurt yesterday that you ditched him and didn't want to have dinner or anything.”

“Look, it's none of your business, alright? Am I upset about Layne being here—No. Maybe it's you being here that I'm upset about.” Crooking her jaw, Anna stared at me through thin lids.

“Me?
Why would you be upset about that?”

Anna's face softened, her brows turning upward. “I'm sorry, Kinsley, I didn't mean to snap at you like that. This is a huge thing, I just found out I have a brother, and...” Her voice fell to a whisper, trailing off into some distant thought. “Forget it. Here's the bathroom.”

Trying to read her face, Anna peered off down the hall, avoiding my eyes. “Thanks,” I said, reaching for the handle.

Closing the door behind me, I sat on the toilet and fiddled with my nails. I didn't actually have to go to the bathroom, but I wanted Anna alone. And all she gave me was bullshit.

Well, that didn't go as planned.

She didn't really make any sense. How could I be an issue? I was only here for Layne, that was it. Yes, she apologized; yes, she said it was emotional for her.

But her voice when she said it was my being here... There was no denying her words were intended, her dark snap meant just as it came out.

For fuck sakes, I'm a teacher. I know a lie when I see it, and I know anger when it flies off the tongue. People can say hurtful things when they're mad, but that doesn't mean they didn't actually believe it.

It usually only shows they have a conscious awareness that it stung.

Thumbing my lip, I just sat and thought. Something wasn't settling right in my gut, and for once it wasn't the morning sickness. Although that twisting and curling of my stomach was still dragging me down, I refused to let it get to me today.

Flushing the toilet, I washed my hands to at least give the impression my bathroom time was valid. But that turned out to be unnecessary.

Opening the door, I was met with a silent hall, and no Anna.

She left me here?

Glancing right to left, I wandered out of the room, taking my time to get back to the library. I wasn't in any rush to see her face, or the emotionless glare of her parents.

The family portraits were endless, marking every four foot span. The hall she led me down wasn't too hard to follow back, but if I hadn't paid attention, there was definitely room for getting lost.

The house was fucking massive. Not a mansion in the true meaning of the word, but pretty damn close.

Studying the pictures, they took me back into memories of my childhood. There were large group pictures of the entire family, some showing Anna as young as two, maybe three. There were family vacation photos, paintings of each of them...

Where's the baby pics?

Out of all the pictures, not a single one showed any baby pictures. Finding that odd, I decided to detour down another hall, try and see if I could find some.

Every home had some— at least one— baby picture of the children that grew up there. I had Fay all over my house in different stages, so they had to be somewhere.

Finding a door, I glanced around over my shoulder making sure I was still alone. Jiggling the handle, it was locked. Stepping to another door, I wiggled the handle, but it was also locked.