The Secret of You and Me - Melissa Lenhardt Page 0,92
felt for Sophie. As I sat here, looking blankly at the photo Emmadean held, that surge of emotion I felt when I told Sophie was fading, being replaced with the soul-crushing grief of abandonment I’d felt in those last days in Lynchfield all those years ago.
Emmadean’s hopeful expression as she held out a photo stopped me from jumping out of my skin, but my mind was working on the quickest and easiest way to make my getaway.
I took the photo from Emmadean’s shaking hand. Her eyes met mine, and she pulled her hand to her chest in a futile hope I didn’t notice. I pretended to ignore it and looked at the picture. It was the last family photo the four of us had taken for the church directory, a perfect storm of ’80s fashion. We looked happy. Were we? I couldn’t remember.
My mother stared at me from the past, and it was like looking in a mirror, even down to the freckles sprinkled across the bridges of our noses. Sure, people had always told me how much I looked like her, but I’d always shrugged off the idea as polite small talk, something people felt they had to stay to make sure I didn’t forget her, or would somehow continue to feel connected to her as the years slipped by. I realized now I was older than my mother was when she died. How different would my life have been if my mother hadn’t driven home in the storm? Sophie and I wouldn’t have become best friends, and we wouldn’t have fallen in love. Ray wouldn’t have kicked me out, and I wouldn’t have joined the military. Hidden among the disasters were genuine moments of happiness: my senior year in high school when I knew pure, unconditional love; the discovery of a real talent for languages; a fulfilling career; making a difference in the world, though not one I could share or discuss; a full, happy life with friends and lovers who accepted me, loved me, for who I was, not who I was expected to be. Would I trade the good things to have a mother growing up, and here with me? I wasn’t sure.
Emmadean and Mary watched me. I handed the photo back. “I’m leaving on Monday.”
“Monday?” they said in unison.
As soon as I said it, I knew it was the right thing to do. The only thing to do. I was glad I’d come home, filled in the blanks of the past with Sophie, made love to her one last time. I could move on now. Maybe with Alima, maybe not. Maybe I wasn’t meant to have a life partner. On a deep level, I knew it would not be Sophie. I knew she loved me, but I wasn’t sure she loved me enough for the sacrifices she would have to make. The end of our most recent conversation didn’t give me much hope.
“That’s the day after tomorrow,” Mary said.
“There’s still so much to do,” Emmadean said. “You’ve only been home...”
“A week,” I said, and that’s a week too long. “And Lynchfield hasn’t been home in eighteen years.”
Emmadean inhaled and dropped her head.
“What the hell, Nora? Do you hear yourself sometimes?” Mary said. She placed her arm around Emmadean’s shoulder and whispered in her ear. Emmadean wiped at her eyes and shook her head. Mary glared at me. “Just because you fought with your girlfriend...”
“We didn’t fight...”
“Your girlfriend?” Emmadean said. Her watery eyes widened. “Alima?” she whispered.
“Sophie,” I said, and the corners of Emmadean’s mouth turned up into a tentative smile.
“You knew Nora was gay?” Mary said.
“Bisexual,” I corrected her.
Emmadean kept her eyes on me. “Nora told me about her and Sophie when she was in the hospital after her accident. I was trying to convince her to come home to recuperate. So I could take care of her.”
“I wasn’t about to give Ray the satisfaction of ignoring me.”
“You didn’t want to see Sophie,” Emmadean said.
“That, too.”
Mary’s arm fell from Emmadean’s shoulder. She leaned away from our aunt. “I can’t believe y’all kept this from me all these years. Though I don’t know why I’m surprised. You’ve always liked Nora more than me.” Mary rose from the couch.
“That’s not true,” Emmadean said.
“There she goes,” I said, “making everything about her.”
“Oh, shut up, Nora. You’re the most selfish person in this family. You don’t even care about what’s been going on with Emmadean. And don’t tell me the super spy hasn’t noticed.”