“Hi,” Dash says, waving from his spot on the stoop, but not moving closer. Probably worried his over-six-foot height will only add to the discomfort of the situation. “We brought some documents that might be helpful.” He holds up a folder, then passes it over.
I already know what’s inside. Copies of our birth certificates. But our mother is listed as Vivian Lamont, and since we weren’t sure if this woman would know that name, Dash also snuck a picture of our mom’s license. That was his fiancée’s idea. Paigeworks as a book editor and is good at picking out holes in information that would have someone questioning the validity of what they’re reading. Or being told by a stranger.
The woman takes her time looking at the documents, her stare tracing over the printouts, then flicking back up to our faces.
“Your licenses?” she eventually asks.
I decide to take her not slamming the door again as a good sign. Dash and I pull out our IDs and pass them over. When she gives them back, I notice a slight quiver in her hand.
“I have a patio. Behind my house. You walk around there. I’ll be out in a moment.”
Then she shuts the door again.
“That could’ve gone better,” I mutter.
“Could’ve gone worse.” Dash gestures to a pretty stone path leading around the side of the house.
I’m disappointed the walkway goes in the opposite direction of the garden, but we follow it and come upon an orderly yard with a larger garden than the one out front. This one also seems to be filled with food plants rather than vibrant flowers.
We settle into padded chairs in the afternoon sun, and I try not to fidget. Eventually, she reappears, carrying a tray holding a pitcher of colorful liquid and glasses. Dash jumps up and helps her settle the heavy load on a table. When I accept my glass of the drink, I take a sip and find myself enjoying the rich flavor of a fruity tea. Until this second, I didn’t realize how dry my mouth had gotten.
The woman I believe is my grandmother settles into her own chair, not taking a drink.
“You are Tsai Shu-fen, correct?” I lean forward in my chair as I ask, hoping Google Translate helped me pronounce her name correctly.
She offers a short nod. “Why visit me now? Why wait?”
Suspicion traces deep lines in her face, and with Dash’s earlier observation still lingering, I don’t blame her. I’ve heard of scams played on old people. Hell, that’s what keeps the whole telemarketing industry afloat.
Still, I had this fantasy in the back of my mind where I’d find my grandmother and she’d recognize me immediately when she saw me. Then she’d pull me in for the kind of hug my mother never bothered with.
But that was naive.
Life has taught me the only way to get something good is to struggle for it. And even then, you shouldn’t be surprised if the thing you wanted all along kicks you in the teeth.
“Our mom has been going by Vivian Lamont.” I set my glass down as the sweetness turns sour in my gut. “But I saw another name on a birth certificate she’d hidden. I hired a private investigator to find you.”
The woman blinks, all expression clearing from her face. I wonder if the change is a good thing or if she’s going to try to shoo us away again.
“You’re saying you’re my grandchildren, but you didn’t know about me? Mei-ling never talked about me? About her father?”
I grimace, knowing exactly how bad that sounds. Lingering behind my fantasy of a loving reunion, there exists a small worry that my mother had a legitimate reason to cut off contact with her parents.
Maybe if Vivian Lamont was someone I could trust, I wouldn’t have gone hunting.
“We don’t know anything about her life before we were born,” I explain. “She doesn’t talk about it.”
Tsai Shu-fen shifts her stare to the distance, as if Dash and I glared brightly like the sun, burning her vision whenever her gaze landed on us. “Tell me about what you know then. About you. About her.”
Not my favorite topic of conversation, but between Dash and me, we give her an overview of our lives, growing up in New Orleans. Bare facts. None of the hard or dark stuff.
My grandmother just sits and listens. Eventually, when our words trail off, she refocuses.
“I have a lawyer. I’ll need to speak with him. Find out if you are who you say you are.”
Dash clears his throat. “Then it’s best you hear it from me. I spent some time in prison for stealing cars. I’m done with that life now, but I understand if you’d rather not be around me. But please, don’t hold anything I did against Luna. She’s better than me.”
“I’m not better than you. I’m more stubborn.” I turn to the older woman, suddenly defensive on my brother’s behalf. I want to get to know her, but not if she’s going to make Dash feel shitty about himself. “If you know anything about Bill Lamont, then I guess it’s not hard for you to believe he’s involved in some shady shit. Our father had no qualms about dragging Dash into them.”
