We both know.
This woman is my sister. She is younger than me, obviously. I’m guessing around forty, maybe late thirties. But aside from that, there’s no mistaking the similarities. Her chin points at the tip like mine, making her face shape a tear drop. Her eyebrows are arched and her upper lip is thin. She has blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair, falling in curls around her shoulders which, aside from age, is the main difference between us. She has naturally curly hair whereas mine is just wavy.
She walks slowly up to me and sits down.
“Maybe we don’t need that DNA test after all,” I say with a nervous laugh.
“You look exactly like her,” Dina breathes. “Exactly.” She shakes her head slightly. “Sorry if you had to wait. I came as quickly as I could. The traffic around the school is always crazy at this time.”
“Oh, you work at a school? You’re a teacher?”
“School administrator.” She laughs. “Who also gets roped into helping organise the school plays. Year eleven are doingMacbeth.”
I smile. “That’s nice! And you didn’t keep me waiting at all. Can I get you a coffee?”
“I’ll get a water I think. I’m too wired for caffeine.” Her eyes linger on me as she stands, as though she can’t believe I’m real. She grips the back of her chair for support. I’d do the same if I was standing right now.
It’s not every day you meet your half-sister. At least, I assume she is my half-sister. For all I know we share the same dad too.
Dina returns a moment later and sits. “Can I see the letter from the adoption agency?”
I reach into my bag and hand her the paper. It flutters slightly in her fingertips, her hands still trembling.
“I had no idea,” she says. “Mum never told me about any of this. When were you born?”
“Nineteen seventy-four.”
“Mum would have been sixteen. She must have been so frightened.” Dina thrusts the letter back to me. “Sorry.” She turns her head away and brushes tears from her eyes. “Sorry. This is all so unexpected.”
I pass her my napkin. “It’s okay. I hate springing this on you so suddenly. I never expected to get this far today. I thought I’d reach a dead end.”
She dabs her eyes and then regards me. “Why today? Why like this?”
“Oh, lots of reasons.” I let out a quick laugh. “I guess if I’d done this when I was young, I could have set something up through the adoption agency. But I didn’t want to find her then. Now… things are different.” I gaze down at my coffee, at the swirl of dark liquid. “I’ve recently been diagnosed with dementia. Basically, it’s now or never.”
“Shit.” Dina takes a sip of her water. She shakes her head as though hearing the words is painful to her. “I’m sorry, Faye. I hate to tell you this. It’s not what you want to hear, I’m afraid. But Mum – Rachel – also has dementia. She’s actually in a nursing home now. That’s why I’m renting out her house to help pay the fees.”
“Oh.” My fingers wrap around the warm cup in front of me. Without thinking, I squeeze the porcelain until it feels as though it might break. I let it go and release a breath at the same time. “I suppose there is a genetic link so that makes sense. How… how is she?”
Dina frowns. “Not good. She’s not my mother anymore. She hasn’t been for a while now. But she has good days. She still laughs at jokes sometimes. But most of the time she doesn’t know who I am.”
And there it is.
My stomach flips.She doesn’t know who I am.Those are the words that Penny will one day say about me. There’s the sword hanging above my head. The destructive blade poised and ready to strike.
It’s the reason Penny and I have been at odds with each other since I was diagnosed. We know what is to come and we’re already thinking about how it will affect our lives. Sometimes she doesn’t consider my side, and I certainly haven’t always thought about hers. Now, as I gaze at Dina, my new sister, I view her as Rachel’s daughter. I see her as Penny.
Dina passes a napkin to me, spotting the tears on my cheeks. I quickly brush them away with my fingertips.
“Are you all right?” she asks.
“As well as I can be, I suppose.”
“That’s understandable,” she says. We sit in silence for a moment and then she leans forward. “If it isn’t too much for you today, there’s still time to go to the nursing home before visiting hours are over. Would you like to meet Mum?”
The question lances through my abdomen. I lower my gaze for a moment, finding Dina’s blue eyes too piercing and intense to hold. This is it. Thirty-four years of wondering who my biological mother is, culminating in this moment.
I nod. “Very much so.”
