“So, what brings you to my doorstep, Andrea? Is a meteor plummeting to earth?”
“Not that I’m aware of. When you called in and told me about Noah’s accident, I just… I realized that I didn’t even know him. All these years. How old is he now—nine?”
“He’ll be nine in a few months.”
“Unbelievable. It seems like only yesterday you showed up at my doorstep drenched, pregnant, and desperate.”
I couldn’t help but react to her nonchalant retelling of one the worst days of my life. Did she have any idea how hard it had been for me to throw myself at her mercy? Obviously not. Worse still, she didn’t seem to notice my surprise.
“Well, he’s a darling boy. And handsome. I can’t get over how much he looks like Nick with his light hair and eyes.”
“He got my headstrong temperament. Does that count?”
“I suppose it does,” she said, her speech faltering. “Speaking of headstrong temperament, I have news on Dad.”
My head shot up.
“I know you’ve been looking for him.”
“You know where he is?” I cut her off, eager for more.
“He’s in a hospital in Pasadena with a broken leg. I’m not sure of all the details, but he was hit by a car. They say he’s shown some interest in getting clean, and they have him on a waiting list for a public rehab. A transitional housing facility close by you is willing to take him until a spot opens up.”
“When is he coming back?”
“Whenever you go and get him.”
I brightened at the news, even if her ultimatum sent a pang of irritation through me. Since when had this become a ‘me’ problem and not a ‘we’ problem? Since forever. “I’m so happy he’s been found. A broken leg, you said? It could’ve been so much worse. And maybe now he can get clean and get a job and…”
“Don’t get your hopes up.” Andrea cut me off. “You know we’ve been here before.”
“Yes, but he’s alive, and that’s all that matters.”
“Is it?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He’s barely there, Jesse—a drunken, strung-out shell.”
“And whose fault is that?”
It just slipped out. Usually I had more control with my boss—who also happened to be my sister—but Andrea deserved everything she got.
“You think this ismyfault?” she protested.
“If you hadn’t fired him, none of this would have happened.”
Andrea sat back in her chair, a stunned expression on her face. “And why do you think I fired him?”
Because you’re a selfish bitch, I wanted to say, but I held onto that thought, choosing instead to throw the question back to her. “You tell me.”
“Jesse! He was stealing from the company. Coming in wasted every day…if he came in at all. I had no choice. He had to go, or the company that my grandfather built would have been totally destroyed. You think I wanted to take over a company I had no idea how to run? No! I thought I’d have years to learn it, but he didn’t give me that option. I had to either sink or swim.”
Andrea paused, perhaps getting her blood pressure back under control before continuing. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened to you. It wasn’t fair, but that wasn’t my fault. If you want someone to blame, then point that judgmental finger right where it belongs… at that father you idolize for no reason at all.”
I sat rigid, my heart beating wildly as memories flooded back. I’d been young, but I still remembered my father’s erratic behavior. The fights with my mother. The acetic, sweet smell of alcohol on his breath. I looked up at my sister, realization dawning on me for the first time. She’d been such an easy target, what with her smug, aristocratic attitude, that I’d readily accepted, even perpetuated, the belief that every wrong ever done to me was a direct result of her; when all this time, we were both casualties of the same broken man.
I had nothing to say. Andrea looked down into her glass. The conversation irreversibly stalled until… “I’m getting a divorce.”
