The Wrong Sister (20 page)

However, when she started to charm and schmooze his current and future clients, he began to take more notice. She was a surprise to him, since he’d never seen her like that. She was warm and kind and engaging as he often witnessed, but also different. She became strangely self-confident, likeable, and interesting. The men, in particular, responded positively to her. But it wasn’t in a totally sexual way. It was like she could have been the woman they would have dated if they weren’t married or involved… she flirted, but not really. He didn’t know how to describe it, other than whatever she did worked. Every client gushed about her, and Donny felt sure she was instrumental in luring several who came in there simply to inquire about his services.

Vickie showed up quite a bit to visit Tracy, and then came into his office to talk. He kept the sigh of annoyance to himself. He had no extra time, and certainly wouldn’t have wanted to spend it chatting with Vickie during the day when he could do it at night for free. But still… he was trying. So he pushed his work away, along with all the pressing deadlines and impatient clients who needed things from him. Then he would listen with rapt attention to Vickie’s day at rehab classes. He didn’t know what else to call them. He listened to her insignificant chatter. He really tried to be encouraging and kind and interested.

The first time Vickie made it clear they should have sex was three weeks after she got home from rehab. It was, by far, the longest stretch of celibacy they endured since the first night they met, except for the time she was physically away at rehab. That was fine. He didn’t refuse it. But he didn’t really think about it beyond that moment. He wasn’t into her at all. He was sure she noticed. Their relationship was primarily based on sex, and now, he couldn’t care less. The effort he put into pleasing her was lame, to say the least. It was just hard to get really turned on to the woman he blamed for half ruining his life, weighing him down, and eventually, he foresaw would hurt his daughter. It was, to say the least, the last straw that finally made all of Vickie’s draw and allure completely disappear.

He certainly scared the living shit out of Vickie with his last ultimatum. She did her best to obey everything he demanded. Tracy was right, however, and he needed to honor her effort. She was not drinking, and did everything to avoid it. She came by work to see him and talk with him and be with him maybe because it was her way of trying to build a relationship outside of the bedroom. Something they never did before.

The thing was: his waning interest about sex with her silenced him and pretty soon, he didn’t have anything to say to her. They were nothing alike. They didn’t see the world the same from work to child-rearing. There wasn’t an ounce of humor or chemistry that connected them beyond sexual gratification. Yes, they still had that, and he hated himself for it. But that remained. Love? He couldn’t say he felt that for her. Not even a little bit. She didn’t get his jokes. She didn’t look up and meet his gaze, or share a secret smile over something sweet or cute that Julia did. They didn’t argue and feel invigorated afterwards. Instead, he usually just found himself rolling his eyes in annoyance at her.

Tracy made him feel all those things now. Despite how distant and remote as they had to interact now, under the watchful eyes of her mother, Vickie and Xavier, they were rarely alone; and even so, he could glance at Tracy, and accidentally catch her eye and read exactly what she was thinking or feeling by just her reaction or smile.

He knew Tracy always left the office when Vickie shut the shades. He knew she tried extra hard to talk to Vickie and visit her at home with Julia. He knew she avoided coming within five feet of him, and was physically relieved when he didn’t talk or look at her. He knew why too, because Tracy felt what he felt.

He just wished he could stop wanting it that way between them.

That made it as convoluted as the entire situation. Why did he ask her to work for him? It was something he contemplated for days and weeks. After mentioning it to Vickie, she all but ordered him to hire Tracy. That resulted in a bad case of heartburn. How could he not feel like shit, when his fresh-out-of-rehab wife got so excited to learn he would hire her sister? The sister he spent so much time with. Way too much time with. Still, how did he manage to work with Tracy every day?

As it turned out, by doing the same thing he did when he dropped Julia off with her. He pretended nothing changed between them.

It turned out he was a better actor than a husband.

****

It was April and Donny glanced up from configuring a local manufacturer’s website when he noticed Tracy looking down. It seemed as if she were in a trance at seeing something on her desk. He waited for her to return to her work, but she didn’t. She stared at it for five minutes. Ten. Twenty. Finally, after an hour of her sitting there almost catatonic, he got up.

“Tracy? What is it?” He leaned his shoulder against his office door and nodded towards her desk.

She lifted her face to his, and her expression was tragic. Stricken. Her freckles stood out against her stark pallor. He fisted his hands at his sides to restrain himself from walking forward to put his arms around her. “I’m… divorced. Turns out, if a person is missing, he can still get divorced. All I had to do was prove due diligence to locate him, which I did. I put all this into motion. I physically took the steps to make this happen, so why am I so shocked now that it did? Oh my God, I divorced Micah.” She uttered the last so quietly, it was almost to herself. She bent forward and dropped her forehead onto her desk. Then, her shoulders both shook as she tried to restrain her tears.

He didn’t know what to do. He glanced back and saw Xavier wasn’t sitting in his office. He came around her desk and touched a hand to her shoulder in a soft, platonic “I’m here for you,” kind of way.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Her body shook harder and a sound came out. It was muffled from where she buried her face on her desk. “I know… on with the tears again.”

He sighed. He flung that barb at her rudely before. “Come on. It’s okay to cry over the desertion of your dozen odd years of marriage. I’m sorry I said that.”

“He’s just still gone. I got on with my life and stopped being catatonic or crying. I take care of my kids and myself now. I work even. I do the errands, and most of the stuff he used to handle, I now handle. I’m getting almost functional as a single, working mother. But then it all hits me as fresh as the first moment you read me that note. He really left me. I still just don’t know how that happened to me. That wasn’t supposed to be my life. We were supposed to grow old together, and watch our girls graduate from high school. And suffer when they left for college or moved out for jobs. We were supposed to go through the empty nest stuff together. We were supposed to get years and years to discover a new ‘us’ without young kids. And then he was supposed to retire while we were still young and healthy, so we could travel to all the places we didn’t while raising our girls. That was supposed to be my life. Not… this. He’s a crook, who left me.”

Ignoring all the responsible boundaries he erected during the last few months, Donny also ignored the best advice and best plans. He set his hands on her shoulders and nearly physically lifted her onto her feet and brought her to his chest. Her head rested well below his chin. She was stiff at first and kept her hands at her side. He simply hugged her and she finally leaned into him. Her body seemed to sag and bow, conforming to his. He felt her hands eventually touching his lower back and creeping up to grip it in a suddenly needy manner. Her body shook as she cried.

He lowered his mouth to just above her ear and tried to soothe her. He didn’t even really say anything, but kind of murmured nonsensically. He had no idea what to say to a woman who was abandoned by her husband. Or what to say to the woman he wanted to hold like this, but had no right to. Or what to do with the tight knot of grief that lodged in his throat or the feelings of pain that encircled his heart. What hurt so much? Was it just sympathy for Tracy? Or because he wanted to be holding her? Or because he might have feelings for the one woman he could never be with? What would cause his own feelings to lodge like a chunk of bread in his throat? Of late, he felt nothing. He’d been doing a good job of staying neutral towards Vickie. He encouraged her. He was polite and kind to her. He tried not to watch her like a parent ready for her to screw up. He tried to give her time and space, all while being supportive. He’d been trying as hard as he could to feel like he
should.

The problem was, feeling the touch of Tracy’s small hand on his back set his entire body on high alert. It was like a loaded gun was suddenly aimed at his head. But in a good way, even though it should not have felt good. Every inch of his skin and sensitive nerve endings seemed to heighten and stir at Tracy’s contact. Her effect on him was physical, mental and emotional.

He hated himself far worse than anyone else ever could. He did nothing more, however. He didn’t touch his lips to her temple like he was only a hair’s breadth away from doing. He didn’t push her back and press his lips over hers like his entire body seemed ready to do.

Instead, he just held her and soothed her and let her cry, trying to ignore how she was ripping him apart.

The storefront doorbell jingled. He stiffened and lifted his head from hers. He expected Jo Ryland, a client he scheduled an afternoon appointment with. But shit. No. It was Vickie.

“What happened?” Vickie immediately crossed around Tracy’s desk and nearly pushed Donny out of the way as she wrapped Tracy in her embrace. He didn’t know what to feel: annoyed as hell that his wife just shoved him; or amazed that Vickie was totally unfazed to find him holding her sister? It felt right and good and natural. Why would Vickie care? He did nothing wrong. It was all innocent, and should’ve been observed as innocent. Of course, Vickie didn’t care.

Tracy wiped her face. “My divorce papers arrived. I went to the post office at lunch and brought my mail back here. And there they were. I just lost it.”

Vickie took Tracy’s hands in hers. “Of course, you lost it. Oh, Trace, this is an unending nightmare, isn’t it?”

It was. But Donny didn’t say that. He simply retreated from their sisterly, sweet embrace. “Come on. I’m taking you home. You can’t work anymore today.”

Right. Of course. Vickie was actually right about that. Still, Donny’s heart leapt as he almost said,
no
. Not that she couldn’t work, but that Vickie couldn’t simply take her home.

But that was wrong. All wrong.

Instead, he smiled and touched Tracy’s shoulder as they passed. “Vickie’s right. Go home. Cry it out. Tell your kids. Don’t worry about work.”

Her head lifted for a slight instance, and her grief cleared, as her eyes stayed on his. She swallowed and slowly nodded her head. Her eyes said more than her words, “Thank you, Donny.”

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.
Sorry for what? For Micah?
No. Shit, he wasn’t sorry in the least that Micah wasn’t there, or legally tied to Tracy anymore. He was sorry she hurt so much. He was sorry his wife was taking her home and comforting her. He was sorry he couldn’t comfort her more.

He was sorry he had the strongest urge he’d ever had in his life to comfort someone.

Vickie kept her arm around Tracy. “I’ll stay with her. Will you go home early to take care of Julia?”

Look at that. They were discussing their life and childcare arrangements like normal adults. Vickie was caring for her sister instead of the other way around. Vickie was even thinking of Julia. Why, then, didn’t his heart swell with pride? Or relief? Or gratitude? All he felt was… hollow. Everything felt hollow and wrong and empty. Especially his marriage.

TWO WEEKS AFTER THE divorce was granted, Tracy got a call at work from Ally’s principal. Work was going okay; and Donny never again touched Tracy after their one embrace, the one that Vickie caught, but didn’t think twice about.

According to the school principal, apparently, Ally spray-painted profanity all over a locker bay at school. An eighth grade teacher caught her in the act. Tracy hung up the phone, feeling so defeated, angry, annoyed¸ and helpless, she nearly screeched. They were always falling back to square one. A little progress, and then,
boom.
They went right back to being pathetic, dysfunctional and sad. The kids were fine one day, and the next, they weren’t. She was tired of the rollercoaster cycle. It never seemed to actually improve. Despite all the sparks Tracy managed to extinguish every few days or weeks, the underlying, smoldering coals of discontent, pain and unhappiness continued to burn, and only seemed to flame up when she least expected it. She was running out of ways to cope.

Tracy appeared at the school in half an hour and met with the principal, who suspended Ally for three days. She listened with little comment to the administration’s story, while Ally kept slinking lower in her seat as the tale unfolded. Tracy made the requisite apologies and promises before requesting that Ally meet, yet again, with a guidance counselor when she returned to school. Then, feeling utterly subdued, embarrassed, disappointed, and truly shocked, Tracy departed the principal’s office with her daughter in tow. Kylie was told to wait for them after school got out. She was sitting in the waiting room of the office and jumped to her feet when she saw Tracy. Tracy put her hand out and tugged her in for a hug. Kylie allowed her, but did little to return the feeling or effort. She kept her arms dropped at her side. Tracy restrained a sigh. Would Kylie ever again engage her? Or her friends? Or life in general?

Once they got into the van, Tracy just sat and stared forward. She didn’t speak. She didn’t move. She didn’t know what to say. Or what to do. She didn’t even have the desire to start the car. She just stared out the front windshield. How could this have become her life? Her daughter was spray-painting the school lockers. And not just writing anything. No, she wrote the dirtiest, foulest language no child should ever know, let alone, spray paint on school lockers. Was it a cry for help? Or was Ally simply on her way to becoming a juvenile delinquent? What was next? Tagging graffiti on other public buildings? Shoplifting? Pregnancy? What? What would happen next just because their father abandoned them?

But how could all the years prior to his leaving simply vanish for all of them? She taught her kids the difference between right and wrong. She taught them how to behave in public, and how to be moral. She never taught them foul language, let alone,
spray painting
it on public property. She leaned her head down onto the hard steering wheel and hot tears filled with hopelessness, anger and complete bewilderment flooded her eyes. She had never been so disappointed in one of her daughters. It only rivaled Micah’s disappointing acts.

Ally sat there, still as a statue. Kylie was in the back seat, but she didn’t speak either. She shuffled around before becoming silent too.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Ally finally said after a long, guilt-ridden stare at the middle school.

Tracy lifted her head and snapped around to glare at her older daughter. “What do you think I’m supposed to say or do about this? I have never been as disgusted and disappointed with you as I am right this moment. It’s not okay, Ally. There is nothing okay about what you’ve done. You can’t just say you’re sorry and expect that to make this somehow better. There are just some things that a simple apology can’t fix.”

“Don’t you think we know that, Mom? Your apologies about Dad never fixed anything either, now did they?”

Tracy gripped the steering wheel so tightly, her fingers turned white. “You blame it on that every single time something goes wrong! You act out: you blame it on Dad. How long, Ally? How much longer should I allow you to use that excuse to get away with every wrong action you take? Or every nasty word you say to me? How much longer do you get a free ride? Because I think you just hit the end of that. I just don’t think that excuse cuts it this time. You went too far. Way too far. You’re right, my apologies haven’t helped you. Well, now, yours can’t help me. This isn’t okay anymore.”

Ally rolled her eyes and snorted. “What are you going to do? Call Uncle Donny? Have him come over and fix it for you? Like Dad did? You can’t figure out what to do with us. Not without Dad. Not without some man to give you permission. I won’t ever be like you. You can bet on that,” Ally sneered, crossing her arms over her chest. She turned haughtily to look out the passenger window, her cold dismissal a direct attack on Tracy.

The words were like a knife cutting into Tracy’s chest. It was… incomprehensible. To be dismissed and ridiculed and made to feel so small by an eleven-year-old, little girl! She reminded herself to breathe, and that Ally was just hurting. She had been hurting for a long time. Tracy’s reaction with more anger and hurt didn’t help anything. Ally was taking her pain and mixed up emotions out on the one person she knew would never leave her:
Tracy.

Still… Tracy couldn’t take it. She could not sit there and be admonished by an eleven-year-old girl who just tagged the school lockers! Nor could she take her child’s wrath caused by Micah’s abandonment. It wasn’t just Ally either, It affected all of them. Keeping her voice calm and steady, Tracy said, “Like me? You don’t want to be like me? What am I, but a good mother? A decent person? A law-abiding citizen who doesn’t break laws and rules because I feel bad inside? I’m a person who cares how others feel. And doesn’t want to hurt them. Oh, yeah, I’m a monster, all right.”

“Well, you certainly weren’t good enough to keep Dad here!”

Tracy inhaled a sharp breath before replying, “You vicious, little brat! I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t drive your father away! I never failed him. I didn’t work outside the home in order to raise
you,
you snotty, little shit! I wanted to give you the best life we could. Has it worked? I guess not, if you feel that way about me! And what you would deem a good mother. But I tried, Ally. I’ve tried to be the mother you needed, and the mother Kylie needed. But I can’t help what
he
did!
I can’t help it.
I can’t fix it. And I will no longer take the blame for it. And don’t worry. The direction you’re headed is not on the path to end up like me. Oh no! You’ll end up like your damn father. A no-good, lying, crook and cheat who ruined everyone’s lives with one selfish decision!”

“At least, he didn’t get left behind. He’s gone because you weren’t good enough for him! Now you’re not good enough for us!” Ally turned her head as she yelled at Tracy.

Tracy took her fist and hit the steering wheel, making the horn blare. “What do you want from me?” Throwing her arms out wide, as in total surrender, she continued her tirade. “I don’t know what else you want from me! Shall I open my veins and give you my life’s blood? I would, Ally! I would give it to you if it would ease your pain. Or your hurt. Or your anger. I would in a heartbeat! But nothing I do ever helps you. Or me. Or Kylie. I don’t know what to do anymore.” Her voice went nearly hoarse after screeching in psychotic tones.

“I want you to bring him back! I want you to make Dad come back to us! That’s what I want you to do! Instead of crying about it, find him and make him come back to us! Bring him back. Why can’t you do that?!”

Ally’s voice rose to become a loud scream inside the car. She screeched and kicked her feet on the floor of the van. Tears streamed off her face as snot filled her mouth. She squealed like a caged animal that needed to get out. “I want you to fix it. I can’t live with it anymore. It hurts so much. All the time. It never stops. It hurts so much. And you’re my mother! Why can’t you make it stop? That’s all I want! For it to stop hurting so much!”

Ally curled up on the seat, still crying, screaming, and repeatedly kicking the console of the car. Tracy sat there, feeling stunned for several moments at the unexpected rage being acted out by Ally. Ally shut her eyes, but her tears poured out. Tracy’s heart bled at hearing her child’s plea to make her stop hurting. That’s all Tracy wanted too. If ending her life right then would have stopped Ally’s pain, Tracy would have done it. But that couldn’t solve her problem. Ally knew that. Kylie knew that. Was it any surprise that her daughters so disdained her?

Tracy jerked the seat belt off and crawled over the console to take Ally in her arms. To her surprise, Ally turned toward her, and held her with all her strength as she buried her head and sobbed against Tracy’s chest. She cried until she hiccupped.

“Ithurtssomuch. Ithurtssomuch. Ithurtssomuch. Make it stop, Mommy. Please, just make it stop,” Ally chanted. She cried and alternately pulled at Tracy, almost in crazy need; and then seemed like she wanted to punish her. They sat awkwardly huddled on the passenger seat. Minutes passed as Ally cried incessantly. She finally ran out of energy and started to quiet down, making soft, little sounds. Tracy stroked her forehead, her hair and her back. She kissed her face and wiped her tears before dozens more replaced them. She held her and rocked her as if she were one, not eleven. She didn’t say, “Shh,” or whisper everything would be okay. She just let Ally vent and release her emotions.

Kylie was quiet as she watched them with huge, doe-eyes. Her face was unnaturally pale and her mouth was open as if she were about to scream. But as usual, she stayed silent. Tracy kept trying to give her small, reassuring smiles over Ally’s head, but Kylie didn’t smile back. Or even respond. She stared at her sister with fearful eyes. The child was merely a shell of her prior self, and seemed so scared of her own shadow and raw emotions, she didn’t know how to go about letting them go. She couldn’t even understand what was wrong.

Finally, Ally started talking. She was calmer and quieter when she leaned her head on Tracy and told her why she acted out. She apologized repeatedly for doing what she did and saying what she said and being what she was. Then she cried some more. Tracy finally wiped the tears away softly and kissed her swollen eyes, shushing her that it was okay. Everything would be okay, they’d figure it out as they always did.

Only then did a soft, quiet voice pipe up in the once hysterical car, “Nothing is okay.”

Both Tracy and Ally sat up straight like the seat just shocked them. Glancing first at each other, they both turned to look back at Kylie. She sat there, still as a statue, and fragile as a newly hatched bird. She stared out her car window with her hands folded in her lap. She didn’t fidget or move.

Tracy somehow maneuvered into the back seat and pulled Kylie into her arms. Ally followed and cuddled on the other side. She went from blaming Tracy to clinging to her, almost too scared and vulnerable to let her go.

“What honey? What isn’t okay?” asked Tracy.

More silence. Kylie stared out the window and her entire body went still. Finally, she said in a normal, even tone, “Everything.”

“I know, Kylie, but refusing to talk about it doesn’t help.”

“I can’t.”

“Why? Why can’t you? Why can’t you talk to me? Or your sister? Or… I don’t care who. Anyone. You need to talk to someone about this.”

“I can’t.”

Tracy nearly took her foot and shoved it against the seat in front of her.
She couldn’t what?
Why could Ally vent everything and Kylie nothing? “Please, I need for you to talk to me.” Tracy lifted her hand and touched Kylie’s chin, turning her towards her. She brushed back Kylie’s bangs. “I’m scared. I don’t know what to do with you. I don’t know how to help you. Please talk to me, sweetie. Please,” Tracy was at a loss of what else she could do. She had to resort to begging Kylie to answer her as fresh tears streamed down her own face.

Kylie’s eyes filled with tears too, but she blinked them back. “I’m afraid.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. Then, she sighed.

“Afraid? Of what? Tell me. Tell me what you are afraid of.”

“Telling you how I feel,” she whispered.

Tracy’s stomach knotted and her insides froze.
What?
What was Kylie afraid to tell her? Did Kylie want to hurt herself? Had she already? The thought made Tracy’s already jittery stomach nearly cramp.
What?
What could have Kylie so tied up in knots that she would not talk to Tracy?

Tracy lifted her hands and cupped Kylie’s face, staring straight into her eyes. “You have to tell me. You have to talk to me. I swear to God, I’m not leaving this parking lot until you do. I’ll sit here all night if we have to. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t let you walk around like a ghost who doesn’t talk. I will not lose you. So as long as it takes, I’ll wait for you to talk to me.”

Kylie stared into Tracy’s eyes, but there wasn’t a speck of Ally’s anger or rebellion towards her. Kylie’s eyes were full of apprehension. Her small chest rose as she took in a deep breath. Tracy waited. And waited. And waited. She meant it. No more. They would stay there until they figured something out. For both of them. All of them. Before it was too late. Before something more went wrong that Tracy could not fix. Before she lost her younger daughter.

Kylie shut her eyes. “I’m afraid you’ll leave too.”

Tracy’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened. She was dumbfounded. Completely astonished at Kylie’s answer.
She
leave them? Could Kylie really fear that? How? How could Kylie ever think such a thing?