* * *
“Go on,”I said to Gennie. “I’ll be right here the entire time.”
Gennie sawed her teeth over her lower lip and kept her gaze on the linoleum floor. “Maybe she changed her mind and doesn’t want to see me.”
“I know she wants to see you more than anything in the world.”
She nodded once. “Dr. Brianna said I’m allowed to feel lots of things at once and that’s called being overwhelmed.” She twisted her fingers in her black-and-white striped skirt. “Do you think my mom feels overwhelmed?”
“I’m sure she does.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Are you going to come with me?”
“I am but I’m going to let you have some time alone with your mom first, like we talked about with Dr. Brianna. Is that okay? Or should we make a new plan?”
She shook her head. “That’s okay.” She glanced across the room to where my sister stood beside a round table, her fingers twisted together and her body shifting like she was ready to spring up from the bench. “Stay right here,” she said, a hand on my shoulder, “where I can see you.”
Gennie walked toward Eva, her hair in the best braids I could manage. When she was a few paces from the table, she paused. I pushed to my feet, my heart in my throat, thinking she needed me to do this with her, but then she sprinted toward her mother. She flew into Eva’s arms, knocking her back a step.
Minutes went by as I stood there, watching them cling to each other, their shoulders heaving as they sobbed. Eventually, they pulled apart enough for Eva to swipe her thumbs over Gennie’s wet cheeks and they smiled at each other. I sat down. My heart remained lodged in my throat.
They talked for nearly ninety minutes, most of that time consumed by words pouring out of Gennie. She didn’t stop moving once, always wiggling or hopping up to dance or act out the story she was telling. Eva barely blinked, too busy absorbing every last ounce of her daughter.
When Gennie ran over to fetch me, she said, “I feel overwhelmed but it’s not the bad kind of overwhelmed anymore.”
“That’s good. And wasn’t I right? Your mom didn’t change her mind about wanting to see you.”
She aimed a sour scowl in my direction, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe I’d repeated her own words back to her.
Gennie led me to the table and motioned for me to sit across from Eva. My sister looked like she’d lived many years in the past one. She’d always taken after our mother, with a tall, slim build and dark hair though their similarities ended at appearances. Where my mother was a peacemaker by trade, Eva was a rebel to the core. She had the wordanarchytattooed down the length of her spine. My mother saw no reason to travel or go away on vacations; Eva couldn’t survive without new adventures. Mom preferred constancy; Eva craved the unknown.
It was those fundamental differences—and the intolerance of them—that dug a mile-wide channel between them over the years. By the time Eva graduated, they barely spoke. Those last few years, when I was starting high school and Dad kept buying farmland he couldn’t afford from our neighbors, brought out the worst in them. It was the worst for all of us.
It was no surprise Eva left home one day without saying goodbye. She texted me often but she only called the house every few months. It stood to reason that things would’ve been better without Mom and Eva walking around in hostile, seething storm clouds but it wasn’t. It wasn’t better.
I didn’t know whether Eva found what she wanted beyond the pastoral borders of Friendship, Rhode Island. I had to believe that she had found some of it. Ihadto believe that. I couldn’t watch while she gazed at her daughter with awe and unmasked grief if I didn’t believe she’d lived wild and free in the time between leaving home and a life sentence.
And I couldn’t tell her how very much she looked like our mother.
“I have people working on the appeal,” I said to my sister.
She lifted her shoulders. “I know. And I know it will take time.”
“They’re still working on getting you moved to Connecticut too.”
Gennie crawled into Eva’s lap and turned her attention to the coloring book pages and worn-down crayons on the table. “I know you’re doing everything you can.”
“And I’m—”
“Tell me about the girl you married,” Eva interrupted. “Why am I not surprised it’s Shay What’s-Her-Name from high school?”
“It’s not—it isn’t—I mean, we aren’t actually—well. Yeah. Shay Zucconi.” I folded my arms on the table and leaned closer. I had no idea what I was trying to say. Where to begin? “Gennie likes her.”
“I know,” Eva said, laughing. “I heardallabout Shay.”
“It’s not—she isn’t—” This time, I knew what I was saying but I couldn’t gather the right words to say it. “She’s not trying to replace you.”
She nodded slowly and pressed her lips together. Then, “I know that too. I’m happy there’s someone in Gennie’s life who can tie fancy braids and help her read about pirates and explorers.” She glanced at the coloring page. “I’m really happy there’s someone in your life who can do special things for you too. With everything that you do for all of us, you deserve it most of all.”
