Jay and Mimi stared at each other for one very long uncomprehending moment, standing in the middle of his bedroom by the gaping hole in the floor.
“Marc Soto, the artist,” she said.
“Right.”
Then Jay led her back to the kitchen to sit down.
“I feel numb,” said Mimi. “Catatonic.”
“Catatonia is characterized by rigidity of the muscles,” said Jay. “You’re as wobbly as Jell-O.”
She stared at him. “I’m impressed,” she said.
“Yeah, well, I’m not only anal; I’m a doctor’s son.”
They sat for long moments at the table not quite able to look straight at each other. Embarrassed-at least he was. He had been entertaining thoughts about her, for Christ’s sake! Thoughts that now made him cringe, but only sort of. And that made it worse. Then a desperate idea occurred to him.
“Your birth father?” he said.
She nodded, frowning, as if she wished it weren’t true. Then she looked down again, suddenly demure, though that seemed the last word he would ever use to describe her.
Then finally their eyes snagged, and he tried to say what neither of them had been actually able to articulate yet.
“So you’re like… We’re… I’m your…”
She laughed. “Nice try, Shakespeare,” she said.
They looked hard at each other-looking for themselves in each other’s faces. That was what he was doing, anyway, and assumed she was doing the same.“You’ve got Marc’s forehead,” she said.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Trust me.”
“I’ve never laid eyes on the man,” he said.
“Not even photographs?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. When I was a kid. He left before I was born.” The answer seemed inadequate to him, as if he should have cared more.
She was staring at his face again, her eyes taking him in with an intimacy that made him a little breathless. “You’ve got the line of his jaw, too,” she added. “Or what it used to be like. Now his face has gone all kind of spongy.”
Jay felt his jaw with his hand, realized how tightly clenched it was.
“Are you okay?”
She sounded so solicitous. And after a moment he was able to say yes, which was ridiculous, really, under the circumstances. Then his mind wandered back to the hidey-hole, and he must have glanced in the direction of the bedroom, because she stood up and reached for his hand again. He didn’t take it this time.
Jay dropped down into the earthen room. The floor was compacted soil, as were the walls. The tunnel was only a meter high and only a couple of meters long. He crawled along it to another trapdoor. How could he not have seen the trapdoor outside? But when he pushed it up and open, he found himself directly behind the shed in a dense thicket of prickly ash, which shielded the doorway. Ducking his head, making himself as small as possible, he crawled through the thicket out to the scruffy patch of long grass and the wall of undergrowth and scrubby cedar that pressed up against the shed. He never came back here.
Mimi followed on her knees. She swore colorfully. He helped her up, pulled away a thorny twig tangled in her hair. She stared at him, her expression unguarded. His gaze slipped away. Her eyes were ultramarine, so vivid that he wondered if she was wearing special contacts.
Closed, the storm door looked like a stained and filthy piece of plywood left to rot, propped up against the back wall of the house, deep in a winterkill of leaves. Nothing more. In the shadow of the house, it was hardly visible.
Jay shuddered. He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked out into the sunlight. He walked halfway down the lawn to the snye, then stopped. There was a bit of wind out there in the open. He realized he had been holding his breath and let it out now.
Mimi followed him silently. It seemed she was out of things to say. Who could blame her? There was far too much to say to know where to start. She wandered past him down toward the snye. He didn’t follow, just watched her, as if she were some exotic animal that might bolt if he moved.
Mimi… Mimi… Where had he heard that name before? Ah, right: the waif in Puccini’s La Boheme. Mimi was no waif. She was thin, but only in the right places-not in any danger of wasting away. He allowed himself a good long look. His sister.
His cell phone rang.
He dug it out of his pocket, looked at the name on the screen. “Hi, Jo,” he said.
Mimi leaned against a tree, down near the water’s edge.
“Jackson, I have purchased the most wonderful salmon,” came the voice on the phone.
“Uh… okay,” said Jay hesitantly.
“Are you all right?”
No, he thought. Not even close! But he was not going to talk about this over the phone, not even to his mother’s partner. “I’m fine, Jo,” he said.
She paused for just a fraction of a second, seeing through him, no doubt. “Well, you will be more than fine when you see this fish. And that’s why I’m phoning.”
“You’re phoning about a fish?”
“Uh-huh,” said Jo. “I was hoping I could interest you in making your famous coriander-and-lemon-zest rub.”
“Uh… I don’t know.”
“Don’t say you’re too busy. It’s Friday night, for goodness’ sake.”
Jay was going to protest but checked himself. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”
“Great.”
“Yeah. So I’ll see you around… What time is it now?”
“It’s sixish. Jay? You sound funny. What’s up?”
Mimi had turned and was staring at him now.
“I’m out at the snye,” he said, as if that answered Jo’s question. Mimi looked tiny suddenly-a little bit frightened, even.
“The creativity battle not going so well?” asked Jo.
“Actually, no,” he said, his voice now pitched loud enough for Mimi to hear. “The battle is not going well at all.”
Mimi smiled a terrible smile.
“Well, like I said, it’s Friday night. Lighten up. Lou says she’ll break out one or two of those New Zealand sauvignon blancs she’s been hoarding.”
“Cool.”
“Maybe you have other plans?”
“No,” he said. Then he realized that this was not entirely true. “Well, I might. Have other plans, I mean. Except…” Mimi was already shaking her head. “Jo, mind if I bring someone?”
Mimi started up the lawn toward him, frantically waving her hands back and forth, nixing the idea.
“Is it Iris? Is she home?”
“No, it’s not. Actually, Jo, it’s another woman,” he said, glancing Mimi’s way. She looked horrified, and it brought out the devil in him. “You should meet her,” he said.
“Is she pretty?”
“Naaah, not really pretty. But amusing.”
Mimi was standing right in front of him now, giving him the finger. She made as if to grab the phone, but he turned away, holding his elbow up to block her.
“Amusing is good,” said Jo. “And the salmon is huge. And the girl
… is this serious?”
Jay stared straight at Mimi. “No, nothing serious,” said Jay. “Just some girl.” Mimi rolled her eyes and walked away. “Uh, Jo, it’ll take me a while to get home.”
“I’m all wrapped up at the office. Won’t be home myself until after seven.”
“No problem,” he said. Then they said good-byes, and he flipped the cell phone closed and shoved it in his pocket.
“That was so sweet, Jay,” said Mimi, giving him a look that could turn titanium to dust. “But I really don’t want to party tonight.”
He nodded. “I know what you mean. But I think this may be good.”
She slapped her hands against her thighs. “Seriously, I am not into an evening with Joe and the boys.”
Jay threw back his head and laughed.
“This is not a laughing matter!”
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s just that Jo is Joanne, and, believe me, she is not one of the boys.”
“Your girlfriend?”
“Guess again.”
“Oh, shit, your mother. And you’ve got to start the macaroni and cheese because she’s going to be late getting home from the office.”
“I do have to start dinner, yes. But Joanne was asking if I’d make my coriander-and-lemon-zest rub for the salmon she’s bringing home. And Joanne, by the way, is my mother’s partner.”
He watched her closely. She looked surprised, not shocked. Good. Then she just looked amused. “Can this day get any stranger?”
Jay shrugged. “I don’t see how.”
Mimi shook her head, but he didn’t think she was saying no.
“So you’ll come?”
She nibbled on her bottom lip. “I guess. I mean, how can I turn down salmon with a coriander rub?” Then she looked thoughtful. “Just as long as your mom and her girlfriend aren’t Socialists. My mother warned me there are lots of those up here.”
He grinned. “Lou’s a lefty,” he said. “Jo’s a fiscal Conservative. They sort of balance each other out. But do not talk politics if you can avoid it.”
Mimi looked at him with a sheepish grin. He guessed it was an expression she didn’t use very often.
“So, as you’ve probably noticed, you’ve got an idiot for a sister.”
He reached out and touched her arm. Made her look at him.
“Are you sure you want to take an idiot home to meet the folks?” she asked.
“Yes. Absolutely. And we should probably get going.”
Mimi nodded but her shoulders drooped. He put his arms around her, and the next minute she was sobbing and swearing and smacking her palms against his chest and then holding him close. They rocked back and forth, and neither of them could think of anything to say for a very long time.