CHAPTER Eight
I don’t say anything. I can’t say anything. I feel my jaw drop open, but I can’t force my lips to move or exhale the breath required to make a sound.
Logically, I know this can’t be my mother. I was there the day she died. I attended her funeral, dropped a single white rose onto her coffin as it was lowered into the ground. It’s as though my eyes are betraying me. She’s just as I remember her—long blond hair, now wet from the rain that started up soon after Rollins took off. Her eyes are bright blue, just like mine. Only her clothes are different. Instead of the ripped jeans and band T-shirts my mother wore when I was little, this woman is wearing khakis and a button-down blouse under a peacoat. She is completely soaked. Mascara trails down her cheeks, but I can’t tell if it’s from the weather or if she’s been crying.
After a moment, I realize this must be my mother’s sister, Lydia. She’s the aunt I never met. My father explained she moved to California a long while ago and lost touch with the family.
“You must be Sylvia,” the woman says. “You look just like your mother.”
I clear my throat. “So do you.”
“Who’s here?” My father’s voice emerges behind me.
“Hello, Jared,” Lydia says, almost businesslike. “It’s been a long time.”
I turn to examine my father’s face. He looks like he’s in shock, just as I was a moment ago. He’s probably struggling with the very same emotions that flooded me—longing for his wife, who passed away years ago, confusion that someone who looks so much like her could just show up on our doorstep, unannounced. He opens his mouth and then closes it again, like he’s not sure what to say. I reach out and touch his arm.
“I’m sorry to just show up like this.” The woman gestures to the yellow Toyota parked in the driveway. “I can leave if you like.”
“No,” my father says quickly. “No, don’t go. I’m sorry. I just . . . wasn’t prepared. Come on in. It’s raining buckets outside. Don’t you have an umbrella?”
I notice a small suitcase on the porch beside Lydia. She stoops down to grab the handle and then walks through the door that my father is holding open for her. I take a step back. It’s so strange to see my aunt here, in my house. She honestly looks like my mother’s ghost.
“I didn’t bring an umbrella,” Lydia explains, pulling off her soggy coat. “It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment-type thing.”
My father takes the coat from her and hangs it on the coat-tree. “You must be freezing. Would you like some coffee?”
Shivering, Lydia nods. “That would be great.”
I hear a thump come from the living room, followed by giggling. If Mattie were to walk into the room right this second, I realize, she would be in for a shock.
“I’m going to go let my sister know that you’re here,” I say.
“Sure.” Lydia gives me a knowing look, as if she understands that I might need to prepare my sister so she isn’t alarmed by the Mom clone standing in our front entryway. She follows my father into the kitchen.
I spin around and head into the living room to find the movie on pause and Mattie and Regina practicing herkie jumps.
“Come on, Vee, you know how to do this one,” Mattie calls out.
Ignoring her invitation, I throw her a serious look. “I need to talk to you. Right. Now.”
Regina apparently catches the grave tone of my voice because she mutters something about promising her mother she’d be home for dinner, grabs her jacket, and heads for the door.
“What’s up?” Mattie asks. “Does this have to do with Rollins?”
I wince, remembering the awkward way Rollins rushed out the door, but then I push the memory aside. I have bigger things to worry about right now. Like why my aunt suddenly decided to show up after all this time. Something must have happened in California, and I’m dying to know what.
“No.” I grab her arm and pull her onto the couch. “Do you remember Mom talking about her older sister? The one who ran off when she was in high school?”
Mattie frowns. “Um, kind of. Wasn’t her name Olivia?”
“Lydia,” I correct her. “And she’s in the kitchen right now, drinking coffee with Dad.”
Mattie’s face lights up. “Are you kidding me? Our long-lost aunt is in our house right now? Awesome!”
She jumps up, ready to run into the kitchen. I grab her hand.
“There’s something else you need to know.”
Mattie waits impatiently for me to go on.
“She looks a lot like Mom.”
Shrugging, Mattie says, “Well, duh. They were sisters.” She breaks free from my grasp and bolts out of the room.
I sigh, getting up to follow her. She can’t say I didn’t warn her.
When I reach the kitchen, I almost run into Mattie, who is frozen in the doorway. Sure enough, she is stunned by Lydia’s appearance.
Lydia and my father are seated at the table, each with a coffee cup in their hands. The scene really is disorienting. It’s as if my mother took a break from her afterlife to stop by and have a cup of joe with my father.
Lydia sets her coffee cup down and rises. “Matilda? My God. You’re so grown-up. So beautiful.”
My sister’s eyes well up with tears, and I wonder how long she’s been waiting for someone to say those exact words. How fitting for her to hear them from a woman who could be my mother’s doppelgänger.
Mattie releases a shuddering sob and then rushes into Lydia’s arms. I watch them for a moment, and then look at my father, wondering what he makes of all this. His face is twisted into a little frown.
It is decided that Lydia will stay in Mattie’s room for the evening, and Mattie will sleep in my room. After my father gives Lydia a little tour, he hands her a couple of towels and leaves her in the bathroom to get washed up.
My father, Mattie, and I sit around the kitchen table. Mattie has a million questions about Lydia. I keep my mouth shut and listen.
“Why has she been in California all this time? Why did she never come to see us?”
My father rubs his temples wearily. “She and your mother had a huge fight over a boy back when they were in high school. Lydia accused your mom of stealing her boyfriend. She took a CD that your mom had saved up for, U2’s The Joshua Tree, I think it was. . . .” Dad pauses to smile faintly. “And broke it into tiny pieces over your mother’s bed.”
I bite my thumbnail. “Is that it? She broke one of Mom’s CDs?”
“It was her favorite CD,” my father says. “And you know how your mother felt about her music. Plus, Lydia said some really terrible things, like how she’d destroy everything your mother ever loved. Shortly after, she ran away, and she took your mother’s college fund with her. As far as I know, that’s the last time the two ever saw each other.”
“Should we be letting her stay with us if she’s so terrible?” I ask.
My father shrugs. “She’s family. Where else would she stay? Besides, that was all a long time ago. People do change, honey.”
I look away. There’s an undercurrent in his words, almost as if he is referring to himself. After all, we recently found out that my father had an affair when my mother was dying of cancer. He had a baby out of wedlock and never told us. Only in the past couple of months have I really started to trust him again.
Mattie pokes me in the side. “Lighten up, Vee. It’s going to be fun, having her stay with us. She’ll have so many stories to tell us about Mom when she was a kid. Don’t you think, Dad?”
My dad forces his lips into a smile. “I’m sure she will.”
I don’t blame Mattie for her enthusiasm. She’s always complained that she doesn’t have any memories of our mother. Maybe Mattie is right. Lydia might be able to tell us things about our mother that my father never could. I’ve always wondered if she could slide. Maybe Lydia can confirm my suspicions.
“How long is she going to stay with us?” I look at my father.
“A few weeks.”
“Did you ask her why she came back now? I mean, it’s been more than twenty years. Why didn’t she come back when you guys got married? Or when me and Mattie were born? Or at least when Mom died?”
He sighs. “I suspect that she’s feeling very guilty for missing out on all that, Vee. Maybe she wasn’t ready yet.”
This answer doesn’t fully satisfy me. There has to be more to her sudden appearance. Why is she here now?
As Mattie and I walk down the hall to my bedroom, the bathroom door opens. Steam escapes from within, and Lydia appears, toweling her hair dry. My father loaned her his bathrobe to wear. It’s huge on her, but she doesn’t seem to mind. It makes me feel strange, seeing her wrapped up in his clothes. I remember my mother stealing that same robe, claiming that it was so much roomier and more comfortable than her own.
“Girls, I want to thank you so much for letting me stay. I know it must be strange. After all, this is the first time we’ve met. But I just know we’re going to be great friends, the three of us.” She flashes a bright smile.
Mattie doesn’t miss a beat. “My catsa sue catsa. Or something. I’m not all that great at Spanish.”
Lydia laughs. “That wasn’t my favorite class, either.”
“Do you need anything?” I ask. “Toothbrush? Another pillow?”
She holds up a pink toothbrush. “I’m covered.”
“Well, good night then.” I open my bedroom door.
“Sweet dreams,” Lydia says, reaching out and ruffling Mattie’s hair. Something about the gesture irks me, but I can’t articulate what it is. Mattie just smiles and follows me into my room.
After I close my door behind us, Mattie sighs happily. “This is going to be great.”
I nod, but inside I’m not sure I agree.