When We Were Sisters (26 page)

She was still staring at me as if she was looking at someone else. “We can certainly do that.”

“Then I'm set. No fries, though.”

She listed sides, and I chose coleslaw, reaching back into my Florida roots.

She left, and I turned to Cecilia, who was watching her departure. “Remember Betty's coleslaw?” Our mutual foster mother had only come to life in the Osburn ranch kitchen. Her signature coleslaw, with pineapple, coconut and tiny colored marshmallows, had been my favorite, although now as an adult I never make it. Betty's coleslaw would be a reminder of sultry afternoons sweating away in the kitchen while she listened to country music at top volume to avoid saying anything to me except “chop this” or “stir that.”

“She recognized you.”

I had been thinking about Betty, so Cecilia's words made no sense. “What are you talking about?”

“Al.” Cecilia didn't elaborate.

“You mean she recognized
you
.”

“No. You. She just left by the front door. She won't be back.”

“Why? She seemed fine.” Although actually the woman hadn't seemed fine at all. She had seemed...what? Unhappy? Preoccupied?

Worse. Al had looked as if she had just seen a ghost.

I had a sudden and terrible insight. And since I don't believe in coincidence, I had a feeling my sister knew everything there was to know about Al's reaction.

I had been toying with my fork, but now I dropped it on the table and leaned forward. “Why don't you tell me what's going on, CeCe? Exactly why
did
we end up in Everglades City instead of a dozen other places we could have gone today? And don't tell me you're a fan of swamps.”

“I don't think I'm the only one who needs to face her past, Robin. Please understand I did this for you.”

“Just tell me what's going on. Who is that woman?”

“I didn't expect her to be our server today. That was unplanned, and I'm sorry this was all so in-your-face.”

“The truth, please.”

“She's the owner, or one of them, married to Captain Henry himself for almost twenty years. But you're her only child, Robin. Al is the former Alice Swanson. Your mother.”

31

Cecilia

For our stay in Tampa, Starla rented a Mediterranean-style home that's large enough to house everyone working on the film. Most of the lavish lakeside residences inside this gated community are seasonal, so their owners only trickle in after Christmas, but the gate is still an extra level of protection unless another preteen wants to work a business deal this week.

Mick thinks the house is safer than the most secure hotel, and to make sure another stalker doesn't sneak in, Donny hired a second Hal, smaller, shorter and older but amazingly quick on his feet. Since his name is Russian and requires phlegmy consonants beyond my capabilities, I call him Ivan the Terrible, which is the only time he ever smiles.

There's plenty of room in my second-floor suite for Robin, but when we settled in last evening she declined the honor. She's still angry and has said very little since she insisted on paying the startled cashier at Captain Henry's for the meal they hadn't yet served and left the restaurant yards ahead of me.

By the time I reached the car she was already buckled in and the Toyota's engine was revving as she angrily pumped the accelerator. No matter. She was so upset I could have heard her over the roar of a jet.

“I know you have a skewed view of the truth. I'm pretty sure you didn't get where you are today without playing fast and loose with it more times than I want to know about. But I never,
ever
expected you to pull something like this with me!”

I buckled up, too. “I was afraid if I told you I'd located your mother, you wouldn't come.”

“And how did that work out, CeCe? Looking for her even after I've told you I wanted to forget I have a mother? Throwing our miserable past back at me, and at Alice, too?”

I'm good at smoothing over problems, but this one wasn't going to smooth easily. I floundered a little. “Listen... I admit things didn't go quite the way I planned. I had no idea she would recognize you. I was going to let you know as gently as I could. I wanted you to decide what to do, acknowledge her and introduce yourself, or just take one good look. I thought that would help you put what she did behind you. The fact she recognized you has to mean she's kept up with you, right?”

“Or maybe looking at me was like staring into a mirror. My God, we look alike, and I didn't think twice about it when I was talking to her. She was barely sixteen when I was born!”

“Lots of people look alike. At some point she must have traced your whereabouts, done some research. It wouldn't have been that hard. Maybe the Department of Children and Families gave her some clues, and you have a photography website with your picture.”

She spaced her words like bullets at a shooting range, and her aim was true. “I am not a little girl. The days when I needed you to help make my decisions are
over
.”

“Well, I thought you were wrong about this one.”

She pulled out to the street. I was glad there was so little traffic, because her hands were visibly shaking, and I hoped we didn't end up in a ditch.

“You know what? I wish
your
mother was still alive, CeCe. Then maybe you could actually put yourself in my place.”

And that was all she said, even when I tried to draw her out.

Oddly enough, today Robin is going to get her wish. Because today we're going to resurrect Maribeth, or at least my final memories of her.

Donny flew in early this morning, and now the two of us are sitting on a concrete bench by the lake. A pair of sandhill cranes just flew overhead, and on the opposite bank, barely in view, a gator is sunning itself. This is a Roscoe-free zone, since my pup's exactly the right size for a gator snack. He's snoozing inside. The crew fights for the privilege of watching over him.

I'm not sure why I decided to tell Donny about Robin's mom. He listened while I matter-of-factly presented what I had done. Now I was waiting for him to react.

He finally spoke. “So at what point did you decide you always know best? Before or after you became such a phenomenon? Because most of the phenoms I know have to make so many huge decisions they stop realizing other people have valid opinions, too.”

“Robin's not just anybody. She's my sister. Nobody knows her better than I do.”

“She knows
herself
better. And Robin knows exactly how she wants to handle that part of her life.”

“But she's always wondered about her mom.”

“She's said so?”

“I know her.”

“Cecilia, you can't know what she's thinking. Or—especially—what she's feeling. You hardly know yourself.”

I felt as if he'd slapped me. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means you're beginning to come to terms with a lot you've been repressing. And you just let that spill over to the person you love best in the world. But you and Robin are two separate people, and love doesn't give you the right to make decisions for her.”

“How do you know so much? Who the hell do you love, Donny? You speak from experience?”

“I do.”

He didn't go on, and I didn't really want him to. But I did make myself a little more vulnerable. “I'm afraid she's going to pack up and go home.”

“And that would be upsetting on all kinds of levels.”

“Stop being my psychiatrist.”

He took my hand and threaded his fingers through it. “How about your friend?”

“You can't be my friend. You're my manager.”

“As if anybody could manage you.”

It was the right thing to say. I couldn't stifle a laugh, and he squeezed my hand, but he didn't drop it. “So how do you keep her from leaving?”

“I don't know.”

“Of course you do.”

“Listen, I'm not going to apologize. I thought I did the right thing. I'm still not sure I didn't.”

“That would definitely not be a good start.”

We sat in silence, our hands entwined, even though I knew attaching myself to him in any way other than financially wasn't a good idea. There have to be borders between our lives if we're going to work together. Unfortunately, at the moment I couldn't imagine my career without Donny beside me. On top of that, I couldn't imagine sitting on that bench without Donny holding my hand.

“So you think I should tell her I made a mistake?” Just the possibility made my head ache.

“If you admit to yourself you did.”

I thought about my life. I don't make mistakes. Mistakes are like boulders rolling downhill. They destroy everything along the way. I know this for a fact.

I tried a different strategy. “Robin knows I don't apologize.”

“Maybe Robin doesn't know
you
any more than you know her.”

“This is getting complicated. I don't need this today.”

“Then why don't you settle it before we leave for the apartment?”

“I'm not sure this is a good idea.”

“The apology? Or filming the slum where your mother abandoned you?”

My throat felt swollen, as if the air that needed to pass through was going to have to slay dragons first. One breakdown. In a foreign country yet. I've told myself falling apart in Australia had next to nothing to do with my messy past and everything to do with exhaustion. But I'm not exhausted today. I am two steps past petrified.

“Neither,” I said.

“I'm not trying to psychoanalyze you, but to do what I do I have to understand people. And it seems to me that if you apologize to your sister, that will put you on a more equal footing. You really don't have to take care of her anymore. She's doing a good job by herself. Standing up for what she needs? Easing the reins at home so Kris can step in and be the dad she wants him to be? All very grown-up and sensible. As was her decision about finding her own mother.”

“I just wanted her to be able to close a door I can't.”

He squeezed again.

Words spilled out without permission and refused to halt. “I hate Maribeth. You have no idea how much. But every once in a while? I remember something good. When we were abandoned by the king of scummy boyfriends after her stint in rehab, she started going to Narcotics Anonymous meetings. She took me with her, and I remember some of the other kids, messed up and embarrassed to be there, but all of us so pathetically hopeful. Maribeth got a job waiting tables, and we rented a big airy room in an old house. She bought yellow curtains at a garage sale, and a pretty ceramic bowl for fruit. After work we took walks and pretended we lived in the houses we saw. I remember an ice-cream sundae.”

“Good memories are like a wedge that keeps the door open.”

It wasn't a question. He understood.

I didn't even have to nod. “That's pretty much the sum total of the good ones. She started using again soon after the yellow curtains and the sundae, and never stopped. But she left me with enough glimpses to know that inside that drug-riddled body was a woman who could have been more if she'd made different choices, or maybe even if my father hadn't died.”

“You feel sorry for her?”

I spat out the answer. “Not one bit.”

“But you still miss her.”

I started to protest, but the words wouldn't emerge. I'll share a secret those of us who have been abandoned know, and it binds us together in the saddest of ways. Despite everything our parents did or didn't do for us, we miss them until the day we die, and worse, we will always be certain, deep inside, that we were the cause of their desertion.

He took my silence for what it was. “You came through worse times than Maribeth did, but you made a success of yourself. It's hard to imagine why she couldn't get by. But nobody can answer that. She didn't, and as retribution, she left you with a few good memories.”

“I hate her the most for that.”

“Do you work so hard to take care of Robin because nobody took care of you?”

“You think that's a new insight? One I never had before?”

“No, but maybe it's the first time anybody's mentioned the possibility out loud.”

“I can't figure out why I haven't fired you.”

He drew my hand to his lips and kissed my fingertips before he dropped it. He stood. “Don't try. I'll take you to court.”

I watched him go. Was I going to make a hard day harder by apologizing for something I believed was right? Apologies aren't something I've practiced. Are apologies like mistakes? Once begun, they can't be stopped or controlled? Another boulder plummeting down an endless mountain?

I looked toward the house and saw Robin talking to Donny, who was pointing toward me.

The bastard.

I stood when she got close enough that I could read her expression. She looked outwardly composed, but I know her well enough—and yes, this time I really do—to see she was still angry.

“I really blew it. Is that good enough?”

“Not nearly.”

“I haven't had much practice apologizing.”

“Get some.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought you needed closure. I sure need it.”

“I'm not you.”

I might be getting into the swing of this. “I'm sorry I tried to fix something that's none of my business. I thought it was a gift, something you just didn't realize you wanted. I guess I still feel responsible for you. Donny says I need to take care of you because nobody took care of me.”

She looked surprised. “He said that and lived to walk back to the house?”

“I'm not sure why.”

“You really did blow it, CeCe.”

I bit my lip—gnawed it, actually—until I could speak. “Yeah. Will you forgive me?”

“Did you arrange that touching little scene with Alice before we got there?”

That puzzled me. “Are you kidding? You saw her reaction. Afterward you and I even talked about why she recognized you.”

“When you pull a fast one on somebody, they begin to doubt everything you say or ever said. You see that?”

I gave the shortest nod in history. “Okay, but no, Alice was every bit as surprised as you were. And it never occurred to me she would recognize you or even wait on our table.”

“That's the problem with surprises. They zoom out of control.”

“I like control.”

“You like controlling everyone and everything. Me included.”

“I'm sorry it turned out the way it did.”

“You mean my mother walking out on me again?”

I hadn't thought about it that way, not exactly, but that's what had happened. Alice had abandoned Robin
again
. This time because of me.

Unlike most of my colleagues, I watch my level of profanity. I figure there are better ways to express myself, but this time even Robin blinked at the string of words that followed her question.

“Whew.” She fanned herself.

“I set it up,” I said. “This time I set it up myself. I can't believe it. I let her abandon you again on my watch.”

“You set it up, all right. But you don't know the ending.”

I'd been about to apologize again. Maybe I was finally getting better at it? But her words stopped me. “Ending?”

“When I went to pay for that meal we never ate? Alice left a business card at the counter, attached to the bill—which was comped, by the way. There was a note on the back that said if I ever forgave her long enough to call, she would like to talk to me.”

I wasn't sure what to say.

Robin went on. “I'm not glad you did this, CeCe. Just so you know. It was wrong, through and through, an awful thing to spring on me. But the outcome is surprising.”

“You're going to call?”

She shrugged. “Not right now. Maybe not ever. But it's a different ending than I thought I would have. If nothing else Alice seems to feel remorse. It's possible that's all I need.”

I started to argue, but the words stayed put. Because Donny's right. Robin is a grown-up, and she doesn't need me to take care of her or even give advice she doesn't ask for.