thirty
“This isn’t good, Isaiah,” Faith says.
We’re back inside, and Eden has gone up to her room to nap. She nearly fell as we were going back up the stairs, she was so emotionally spent. Manuela went up with her.
“You think?” I snap at Faith and, as usual, regret it. “I know it’s not good. Do you have her therapist’s number?”
“Of course. But Eden… Eden needs you too.”
I nod. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying.”
My brother’s phone keeps blowing up with messages and missed calls, and I look at him anxiously. He looks like he doesn’t even notice it lighting up every two seconds, even though it’s clasped in his ringed fingers—but I know him. He notices everything.
“Do you need to get that?” I ask him in a low voice.
He looks right at me, and just says, very intentionally: “No.”
Then he turns his full attention back to Walter, who is telling a story about Eden to Mom. Mom is listening with a smile on her serene face, and I admire her so much. She is the one person I can always rely on, no matter how hard the situation is. It’s because of her that everything has gone so smoothly today, and it’s because of her that Walter looks so much more relaxed now.
Justin has also left, and it’s just us five: Walter, James and Mom talking softly by the window, and Faith and me standing by the stairs, as if we’re waiting for Manuela to appear to tell us that Eden is all better. As if that’s going to happen. I mean, hopefully it will, but not in the next five minutes, I don’t think. Not in the next five hours either.
“Gosh, your brother is hot,” Faith murmurs and I jump.
“ What?”
“Sorry, you are too.”
“ What?! ”
“But in a dark, tortured poet way,” she replies, her eyes gazing dreamily upon my brother’s stupid face. He looks oblivious. “He looks like a Greek god’s statue come alive.”
Kill me now .
Does James even know about the effect he has on women? I bet he doesn’t, the oaf. On the other hand, he is enough of a moron to know and not care.
“What are you talking about, Fee?” Suddenly, my head is splitting.
“But he is…” Faith goes on, mesmerized. Good lord, is she shivering? “He is as handsome as you, and then some. Those long, strong fingers with the silver rings… That lip ring… He has that look about him, like he’s kind of an ass, you know?”
“He is,” I murmur.
I doubt she even realizes I am standing next to her right now. She’s so far gone, it would be funny it if weren’t disgusting.
“He looks like the fantasy of every girl, and not in a good way. He looks like he’s every single woman’s type,” she says dreamily. “Every red flag rolled into one delicious package.”
Ok, this has gone on long enough.
“Faith,” I say sharply, trying to snap her back into reality. “No offense whatsoever, but you do know that he is about a hundred years younger than you, right?”
“What did you say?” she looks at me suddenly, jumping a little, as if she is surprised to find me standing here. I knew she had forgotten all about me. That’s the effect James has on people. Magnetic. My dad used to be the same, except he was much less of an ass about it.
“I said, you are a bit older than Eden, right?”
“I’m -four,” Faith replies, her voice trembling.
I take a sip of my soda, smacking my lips. “James is barely twenty,” I tell her and she turns the most alarming shade of purple.
“You… Oh my, I’m mortified. I am so embarrassed, I didn’t… I am so sorry, Isaiah,” she says. She can’t even look at me, as she tries to explain: “He looks like a man. Well, not that he isn’t, I meant that he… The way he acts and carries himself, the way he commands the room, the way he…”
I know exactly what she is talking about; I decide to put her out of her misery.
“He looks older,” I agree with her. “He acts older too. He’s had to, you see. You wouldn’t believe the things he has been through. But he is just a kid.”
I can see her thinking ‘you both are’ as she looks at me, but I shoot her a menacing glare, and she swallows the words.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I am so sorry. I am so embarrassed, I don’t know how… ”
“Hey, hey.” I place a hand lightly on her elbow. “Don’t be embarrassed, not when you’re with me. It’s the rule: we can’t be embarrassed around each other.”
“What rule?” she asks suspiciously.
“A new one. I just made it up.”
She cracks a smile. “Gosh, you are so annoying.”
“Always,” I reply. “Might need to add that as a rule as well. Isaiah has to be annoying.”
“I mean, you don’t have to,” she says, “but you probably will.”
“Exactly.”
She giggles. I smile, exceedingly pleased with myself. I seem to be getting the knack of making the Elliot sisters laugh today.
James, Mom, Faith and Walter go for a drive around town. Walter wants to show them around his hometown. Well, he mainly wanted to show me around, but I’m not leaving the house while Eden is upstairs, asleep. They come back a few hours later, and James has dark circles under his eyes.
Mom looks fresh as a flower, and Walter is glowing as well. Faith is all smiles, keeping her distance from James. I don’t even want to know what they did on their little outing.
“The kids should have something to eat,” Walter says.
“Here is a thought,” James says. Faith is right. He does sound like a grownup—he sounds like he is more in control of the situation than Walter just did. Everyone turns to him expectantly, expecting him to tell them what to do. “Instead of sitting around crying, not that it hasn’t been fun and all, why don’t we go out for a round of drinks? Walter,” he turns to Eden’s dad, “is there such a place around here?”
I gaze at my brother dumbly.
Wait, he has been crying? I suddenly realize that his eyes have been puffy since before he left. He has. Whatever for?
For me , the answer comes. He has been crying for me.
I don’t think I have ever been more profoundly moved in my life. I look down, suddenly needing to hide the expression on my face.
“You don’t drink, baby,” Mom tells him and I chuckle brokenly. James can sound more grownup than the grownups, but when Mom talks to him, he goes back to being my little brother. “And Zay can’t go out in public.”
She sighs in a resigned way, as if she’s used to neither of her children being normal .
“Why not bring the party here?” Walter says.
It’s beginning to get on my nerves how good-natured he is. I mean, it’s not. But the dude is unreal. There is nothing he won’t do for his kids. And I am beginning to see that ‘his kids’ now somehow include James and me. How did this happen? When did this happen? Somehow I know it didn’t happen the minute we stepped through the front door of his house looking like a pair of zombies, sleep-deprived and barely human.
It must have happened years ago, when he and Eden started talking about the past.
About me.
…
Walter, bless him, was fully prepared to order dinner for us from a two-star Michelin restaurant, but Mom, seeing the horrified expression on my face, has talked him out of it. Instead, he orders food from every Thai, Chinese, Greek and Italian restaurant he can think of. He would keep going, but James stops him.
“What about some music while we wait?” James asks Faith, who blushes furiously.
I have gone too long without having any siblings around . These two together are already giving me a headache. I can’t imagine the horrors that will take place in this house once the food and the alcohol gets here. And speaking of horrors:
“Have any guitars laying around?” James asks Walter expectantly. “Or a violin. Or a cello,” he nods towards mom, “anything will do.”
Walter goes pale. Of course, the man doesn’t have a philharmonic orchestra collecting dust in the attic, but I wouldn’t put it past him to try ordering one on the spot. He has gone full super-dad mode. Wants to do anything to please us.
“James!” I hiss.
“Right,” my brother appears to come to his senses. “Not necessary. I have the perfect solution, right here.” He lifts his phone, and proceeds to hook it up with a pair of ancient speakers he locates among Walter’s books.
By the time I notice the quiet smile tugging on his lips, it’s too late.
“Please, no!” I rush to grab the phone out of his hands, but the first notes of Heartbreaker are already floating through the room. My moron of a brother has gone and put on my stupid voice singing the song I wrote for Eden. In her dad’s living room. With me. literally standing here.
I just put my head in my hands, too embarrassed for words.
“That is so lovely,” Walter murmurs in wonder, nodding along to the beat.
Someone quick, kill me now.
James, meanwhile, is laughing and grabbing Faith’s hand to start dancing to the song. I just gape at them through my fingers. This can’t be happening.
“Shall I help you in the kitchen?” Mom asks Walter, and they disappear together, chatting pleasantly about salads and cutlery like they have been pals forever.
Well, this is surreal. Not to mention revolting. I jog up the stairs to check on Eden and Manuela, and I find them curled up with Pooh on Eden’s bed, talking softly in that secret way sisters do.
“Everything ok down there?” Manuela asks me in her ‘mom’ voice.
“If you call our siblings dancing to Heartbreaker ‘ok’, then yeah, I guess,” I reply.
“What!?” They both jump up at the same time, ignoring Pooh who starts barking his little head off, and tumble down the stairs to see the spectacle.
Eden is still wearing her pajamas, but I don’t think she even notices as she starts dancing next to her sisters. She moves shyly at first, but as soon as James starts clowning around, doing the robot dance and a million other goofy moves which are doubly ridiculous now that he is so freaking tall, she lets loose. I just stand there, at the top of the stairs and gaze at her, completely mesmerized.
The way her body sways to the music, the way she’s smiling, the way she closes her eyes and throws her head back, curls bouncing all over the place… I’ve never seen her that way, except in my imagination. I slowly sink to the ground and continue watching her through the railing. They get halfway through my studio album before the food begins to arrive. Thank God for small mercies.
We spread everything out on any surface available: the table, the kitchen island, the couch. And then everyone starts eating and talking and feeding the dog all at once. I try to eat something, but I feel nauseated.
So, instead, I get good and drunk.
By the time everyone has moved on from eating like it’s Thanksgiving to sipping wine and beer, I am barely coherent. But at least now I can breathe. With every sip, I feel the weight that’s been pressing on my chest all day start to lift. I forget what I was stressed about.
Forgetting is good.
Breathing is good.
Thinking about forgetting is bad. I drink some more.
Faith, Manuela and James decide to have a ‘party’, so they put on cheesy dance music and start laughing and dancing along to it. They all look so much like a real family and it makes me miss my dad so badly I have to leave the room for a few minutes. When I get back, I am determined to stop feeling so much.
I need to drink more.
Everyone drinks a little—except James—but no one is as out-of-their mind intoxicated as I am. James drags me by the hand and forces me to dance, but I end up sprawled on a chair—which is preferable to the floor. Those were my two options.
I just stay there until I don’t know if it’s night or day anymore. Jet lag is hitting me hard. At some point, I feel a cool hand on my forehead. I open my eyes—when did I close them?—and I see Eden leaning over me. I try to sit up and the room spins sharply to the left.
“Sometimes I think you are an angel, Isaiah,” she says, her hips softly swaying to the music. “An angel.”
Is she drunk too? I try to call her name, but my lips won’t move.
Everything is covered in a haze; everything except her.
“You have been sent to save me,” Eden says, and she kneels so that her face is next to mine. She takes my hand in hers lightly and leans her cheek against the back of my fingers. “Except I can’t be saved.”
“No!” I try to lift myself, but everything is blurry and tilted. “You will be saved,” I try to say, but I don’t know if any actual words come out. “You will be saved, Eden.”
I don’t know if I am imagining this or not. Maybe it’s a nightmare. Even in my dreams I will always want to save her. Even in my dreams I will always fail to save her.
I don’t know how much time passes.
I half-walk, half-crawl to the bathroom. When I start throwing up, James is suddenly there behind me, holding me up, keeping me from falling apart .
“You don’t drink, do you?” I tell him after the first violent wave passes. “I almost forgot.”
“Nope,” he replies. “Can’t think of why, looking at you right now.”
“Ass,” I gasp, before throwing up again. “Where are the girls?”
“Gone home. Eden is cleaning up with her dad.”
“She didn’t…?”
“No, she didn’t see you like this.”
We are both sprawled on the cool bathroom tiles. He is looking at my face as if he is trying to decipher me.
“You know,” he says conversationally, waiting until I stop heaving long enough to take a semi-normal breath, “ah, I don’t know if I should tell you.”
“Now you need to tell me.”
“Mom is about to check you into a hospital,” he says bluntly.
“She what?”
“Zay, she knows that you haven’t been able to keep anything down for… What’s it been, two days now?”
“Three,” I reply. “I think. Time has lost…” I close my eyes. A wave of nausea assaults me.
“One can tell. I would be able to tell even if I weren’t your brother. Just by looking at you.” He bites his upper lip. I must look a bit gray. Maybe more than a bit.
“What, is she going to ask them to hook me up to an IV?” I choke out laughter, careful to not throw up again.
“Yes,” James replies simply. He’s not kidding or being sarcastic, not this time.
“Fine,” I bite out. “I’ll freaking eat something. Satisfied?”
“Not even close.”
“No one cares about your satisfaction either way. Now kindly piss off.”
He gets up to do just that and I lean over the toilet bowl with an unearthly groan. He turns back, sighing as though I’m the world’s most burdensome brother. I hear him kneel slowly behind me. In a second, his arms are around my chest, supporting my weight.
I think I am crying.
‘You will be saved, Eden.’
Maybe, but not by me. I need saving myself. I am in no condition to save anyone.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, hoping James won’t hear it.
“Just stop hurting, Zay,” he replies just as quietly, and I feel the soft weight of his head resting against my back. “Please stop hurting. It’s like watching Dad die all over again, and I can’t save you either. But this time it’s worse, because it won’t stop. You keep dying and dying and I-I can’t stand it.”
…
Isaiah : I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry
Faith : Who is this?
Isaiah : It’s Isaiah. You have my number.
Isaiah : I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry
Faith : I know I have your number, but this doesn’t sound like you. I thought your phone got hacked.
Isaiah : I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry
Faith : Put it in a song, Your Highness.
Isaiah : Ok, I will.
Faith : Wait, I didn’t mean… Never mind. Are you still drunk, Isaiah?
Isaiah : Oh yes.
Faith : What room are you in? I’m coming over.
I hear steps padding outside my door a few minutes later. I’m in the first guest room. Manuela said that it used to be her room when she was a kid. She came back to stay the night; she’s sleeping in Eden’s bed again.
I know that Eden wakes up from nightmares, and I am grateful that Manuela will be here to take care of her when I can’t. My coming here has been a massive trigger for Eden’s trauma. So, yes, I’m glad Manuela is here, but I’m also jealous. It should be me. I wish I was the one holding Eden when the monsters come, but I’m too drunk to be of any use to anyone right now. Never again.
The door opens and Faith walks in .
“Is he awake?” Manuela’s voice asks. Oh, great, they are both here.
I try to lift my head from the pillow and the ceiling spins.
The mattress dips under the weight of Faith’s body as she sits beside my head.
“Please tell me he’s not crying,” Manuela stage-whispers to her, fully aware that I can hear her. There is pity in her voice, and a bit of worry too. I hate that.
“I have missed so much, Faith.” My speech is slurring a little, but I have never been more awake in my life. I would have gone crazy if I hadn’t texted her—but I probably wouldn’t have had the guts to do it if I were sober. “Tell me everything. I’ve missed so darn much . ”
“It’s not her fault,” Faith says softly.
“It’s not his either,” Manuela tells her.
I sit up, clenching my teeth against the nausea.
“We all know whose fault it is,” I say, “and that monster is the last thing I want to talk about. Instead, tell me how she managed to survive. I don’t… I don’t want to ask her yet.”
“It’s you,” Faith says quietly. “You are how she managed to survive. You were the one good thing in her life. The one good thing.”
I scoff. “How can you say that, Fee?”
“How can I not?” She places her hand on top of mine. Her fingers are warm; mine are chilly.
“I loved her,” I say quietly. I love her.
“We know,” Manuela replies. “It’s why she survived. It’s how she survived.”
“Dammit, Manuela, making me cry,” I say and I wish I hadn’t, but then she says:
“Call me Manu, little prince.”
“Would you stop it with that prince stuff?” I sigh.
“Right,” Faith says, “I’m going to make some coffee.”
We both stumble after her in the dark, whispering to each other all the way to the kitchen like little kids. The house is dark and unfamiliar, and I am still dizzy, so I more fall down the stairs than climb them. Faith and Eden catch me, laughing, before I smash my stupid head on the floor and I groan. Faith shushes me loudly enough to wake the entire block and Manuela tries to stifle her giggles and fails miserably.
“Shut up,” Faith hisses at her, laughing as well. “You’ll wake the whole house. ”
“I can’t believe I left my child at home for this,” Manuela groans, pulling me along.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble.
“I left him for my sister, not for you, Your Highness,” Manuela retorts. “Although you are acting very similar to my son right now. He too can barely walk.”
“He isn’t even two yet!” Faith somehow finds this even more hilarious. We have finally stumbled our way to the kitchen, and I sprawl myself on the floor. This is so comfortable. Why do even people bother with chairs anyway?
“Because they are civilized?” Manuela says.
Oops. Might have said that out loud.
“Floor is good,” I slur, beginning to fall asleep. The girls giggling and talking around me is lulling me into a sense of peace I couldn’t find when I was alone in that cute guest room.
“Coffee,” Manuela says, “quick, before I murder him.”
Pretty soon, the room fills with the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee, and I manage to sit up. I breathe it in. It smells like a home should smell in the morning—not that I would know. I haven’t had a home in years. The girls drag my aching body onto a chair and force-feed me leftover pizza. To my surprise, I keep it down—not that they give me any other option. Then the coffee wakes me up completely.
“Well,” I say, gulping down another sip of the vilest espresso I have ever tasted. It’s out of a pink mug, too. “That’s the best coffee and pizza I’ve had in a long time.”
“Seems like you haven’t had anything decent in a long time.” Manuela is eyeing me up and down. She’s got her mom-voice on again. “And I’m not just talking about food.”
I don’t know how to reply to that, so I just drink my coffee and try not to gag.
“I mean it,” Manuela continues, relentless. “I am worried about you.”
“Well, it’s not like I’ve been doing anything other than worrying these days either, so we’re in the same boat,” I reply dryly.
“Worried about Eden?” Faith grabs a chair between Manuela and me and starts peeling an orange, as if she’s having breakfast. The kitchen clock says it’s three in the morning.
Manuela lets out a resigned sigh. “We are worried about her too,” she says. “More than usual.”
I’m immediately alert. “Did something happen?”
“Her therapist seems to think— ”
“Don’t tell him, Faith.”
“Tell me, Faith.”
I fix Faith with my most intense stare, and she falters—my blue eyes supposedly sell billions of albums. Hopefully, it’s not just my eyes people are buying them for; it’s the music too. But right now, those eyes are finally going to prove useful. “Tell me.”
“Eden’s therapist seems to think that people who have been through experiences similar to Eden’s might be incapable of being happy,” Faith says, quietly, as if she’s afraid of her own words.
“Bullshit!” I hiss, and Manuela steps back as if the word physically shocks her. “She is lying,” I say more calmly. “That is not acceptable. Fire her now.”
“Oh, really?” Manuela sneers. “Should we fire her at your command, Your Highness? We hadn’t thought of that.”
I lift my hands in surrender. “I’m sorry,” I say quickly, “I’m used to giving…”
“Orders?” Faith supplies sweetly.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, “I am still in tour mode, where I have to be in charge and make quick decisions, but this is your turf.”
I hung my head, but suddenly Manuela’s hand is on my arm. I look up and she is staring at me with so much kindness in her eyes, my throat squeezes shut.
“Hey, it’s our turf,” she says, sharing a glance at her sister. “We want you in on this. Right, Fee?”
“Yeah,” Faith nods. “We’re in this together. That’s why I told you. Eden will murder me if she finds out, by the way.” I wince. “And then you.”
“I don’t mind,” I reply, “as long as her therapist has been fired first.”
“Fair point,” Manuela says, her eyebrows drawn.
I can almost see her mind racing, thinking about everything that firing Eden’s current therapist will entail: Searching for a new one, vetting through many until she finds the best, then giving them all of Eden’s information and medical history. All this will take some waiting. How much time will pass until the new therapist is in a place to start treating Eden?
Manuela’s fingers are still on my sleeve, and my hand closes around them. “No, wait. Keep her,” I say and she looks at me with surprise. “Keep the current therapist while looking for a new one. Then switch.”
“That makes sense,” Faith jumps in, realizing what I’m saying. “I won’t sleep easy if Eden misses therapy, even for a week. ”
Manuela nods. “Therapy helps, sure, but it’s not the only thing keeping her together, you know,” she says.
“It’s not?” Faith and I say at the same time. She snorts; I bite back a laugh.
“No, you idiots. It’s love,” Manuela looks at us with an exasperated expression. “And stop acting like siblings. You didn’t know each other existed until a week ago. It’s freaking me out.”
“I knew he existed a week ago,” Faith says indignantly; I burst out laughing. “I just… You know, I knew him as Issy Woo. Like the rest of the world. I miss those days. He was really cool back then.”
“Hey!” I say a bit too loudly and Faith shushes me.
“Now you’ve gone and done it,” she says. “I bet you’ve woken up the whole house.”
I slap her hand away from my mouth, and two seconds later, Eden walks in, still half-asleep.
I quickly stuff what feels like an entire batch of cookies in my mouth. Acting as if I’ve been in the kitchen, just eating, in the middle of the night. Not that I could ever fool her.
“Eden, thanks goodness you’re here; Issy Woo is eating us out of hearth and home!” Manuela whisper-screams, a tad too dramatically. Meanwhile, those cookies might be the best thing I’ve tasted in my life.
“Yeah, right. I’m just going to pretend that you weren’t talking about me,” Eden stifles a yawn as she takes a seat, and I just want to hug her.
She stays on the other side, a whole table between us.
How can she just sit there, looking so beautiful and sad, hair tousled from sleep, lips plumb, eyes bright and wide, her face like a live painting? How am I going to stay in this house for a minute longer and not even touch her?
I swallow hard, my throat closing up.
“Sorry, En. We’re idiots, ” Faith says. “At least we haven’t woken up Dad.”
“Yet,” Manuela adds ominously.
I am overwhelmed by a feeling akin to emptiness. What is it like to have a dad? I have forgotten. I have gotten used to the idea that it’s not for me anymore, never will be again. He is gone forever. I have accepted it.
But Eden… she didn’t have a dad growing up, while I did.
I was loved and cherished, while she was a prisoner. Now she finally has a real father and I’ll do my best to support her in any way I can, while she relearns how to be happy. I refuse to even entertain the thought that it might be too late for that.
It won’t be. It isn’t.
If nothing else can help her, then I will make it my life’s mission to make sure she learns what happy looks like.
“Do you want me to leave so you can talk about me?” Eden asks.
We all laugh, but she ends up asleep on the couch a few minutes later. The girls and I just sit around her, sort of huddled together, talking in hushed tones. None of us wants to move away from her.
Manuela is smoothing Eden’s hair on the cushion.
“The PTSD episodes exhaust her,” she says. “That’s why she sleeps so much.”
“Might it also be because it’s almost four in the morning?” I rub my eyes. My head is hurting so badly, I feel like ripping them out. I lean forward. “Actually, I want to ask your opinion about something: Do you think that she shouldn’t work for me anymore? During the tour, I mean.”
They are quiet for a second, and I think I know what that silence means—they have talked about this before.
“The tour is organized chaos—and sometimes not so organized. It’s no place for her right now. And being constantly thrown together with me, especially in high-pressure circumstances, can’t be good for her. What do you think? Is staying here something she would like?” I ask anxiously.
“We think that could be great for her,” Manuela says. “She’s talked about it a bit, actually, but…”
“But what? Tell me.”
They exchange a look. I know that look. I’ve exchanged it with James a million times. It’s the sibling look; you communicate with your eyes only. I wait.
“We think she is waiting for permission to do it,” Faith says.
“Permission?” I can barely control my voice.
“Ok, now don’t get mad,” Manuela warns me, but it’s too late.
“Did you use the word ‘permission’?” It comes out as a snarl.
“It’s true,” Faith says. “It’s a whole thing; they explained it to us. They said she was raised to be submissive, and she feels like something terrible would happen if she disobeyed orders. Or if she does something she isn’t expressly allowed to do. So she will feel like she needs permission for every… ”
“Please stop,” I beg, my voice cracking. I bring a fist to my mouth. I knew I shouldn’t have eaten.
“Are you going to be sick?” Manuela asks me, looking around for something I can throw up in. Oh, great, I bet she does the same thing for her toddler.
I lift a finger in the air. Give me one second.
“I’m sorry, I should have prepared you before saying a thing like that,” Faith says, sounding contrite.
This is so not her fault.
“I knew,” I tell her, my voice choked up. “I saw it. I knew someone had made her… obedient .” They both shudder at the word. I do, too. “Too obedient. That’s not even the word I was looking for, but that thing you said… I’m not going to repeat it. But I saw how she was, at times, and I was… I was absolutely horrified. How dependent she was on that monster—on his opinions and rules. Every time the subject came up, she was shattered. She changed. She even behaved that way with me, although very rarely. I didn’t know what to do about it, except for tearing my hair out. It happened when she was scared, or stressed. She would become someone else; she would disappear on me.”
We all fall quiet.
“She thought she would die if she disobeyed him,” I say.
“He trained her,” Manuela agrees, her eyes unfocused, sad.
“There is documentation of him stating that he stole the baby in order to save her,” Faith continues where her sister left off. “He had none of his own, but he wanted a child to raise ‘properly’. To ‘save from the ugliness of this world’. That’s a direct quote. So he stole Eden. No one knows exactly what he was thinking, but it looks like he treated her less as a child and more as a pet.”
‘My name is Eden. But my dad calls me ‘Pet’.’
‘Pet. Cute.’
‘Is it.’
I think I’m actually going to be sick in front of both of them.
“She knew,” I try to say, but no sound comes out of my lips. I press them together. “Sorry,” I mumble.
“It’s ok. I get a migraine every time I try to wrap my mind around how Eden grew up,” Manuela says.
Maybe it’s just as well that they didn’t hear what I wanted to say.
“She should have changed her name,” I choke, and they both look at me in surprise, not getting why I’m changing the subject. But I’m not changing it, not even a little bit. I am thinking of that ‘Pet’. How he called her that.
“She wanted to keep her name,” Faith says. “Dad and Mom gave it to her, and also she said…”
“Don’t, Faith,” Manuela gently takes her hand.
“Tell me, Faith,” I pin her with my eyes.
“She said that you loved her with it, so she wanted to keep it.”
I curse, and the next minute I find myself on the floor. When did I get down here? I hope I didn’t faint in the process, although, by now, I’m already looking at my dignity in the rearview mirror. Have been since I set foot in this house.
“You ok?” Manuela asks me and I nod. She and Faith are sitting cross-legged on the floor next to me, as if it’s the most natural thing to take this conversation to the ground.
“I thought…” I lick my dry lips, and try again, “I always thought, back then, that if I gave her space and time to be herself, she would eventually, you know… Become free or whatever. I guess it’s not as simple as that.”
“The doctors have been working with her, but it takes time.”
I put my head in my hands and swear long and hard. I don’t care that Eden’s sisters are looking at me with pity (Faith) or with their eyebrows raised to their hairline (Manuela). I can’t help it.
“Fine. Let’s give her permission, then,” I say, defeated.
“How do we do that, genius?”
“Hey!” it comes out as a reflex. “Don’t call me—I’m not—”
“I know you’re not,” she retorts. “Trust me, I know.”
“Guys, stop,” Faith pleads.
“Wait, was that your way of trying to call me stupid?” I ask her.
No one’s ever called me stupid to my face, or tried to, but my brother, Wes and Teddy. I am enjoying the heck out of this. Manuela has turned beet-red, but she’s not backing down. I look at her expectantly, hoping she’ll say something back, something like—
“No, this is my way of trying to call you stupid,” Manuela says, without missing a beat. “Are you an actual moron?”
I smile, on the verge of bursting into laughter. And to think, I was about to throw up just seconds ago. Now I can barely stop myself from cackling.
“Do you expect an answer to that or…?”
“Please stop acting like real actual siblings for a second,” Faith interrupts us and Manuela looks down, hiding a smile. I’m having so much fun right now.
“Sorry, Faith,” I say at the same time that Manuela says :
“Sorry, Fee.”
We glance at each other and smile. We’re not sorry at all. The sibling glance. Nailed it.
“Back to our subject,” Faith says indignantly, and a little smugly, for once the adult in the room. Well, we are all adults here, but… some more than others. “Eden. How do we give her that ‘permission’, so to speak?”
“She needs it from you,” Manuela tells me.
I shake my head. “I’m not giving it to her.” That’s where I draw the line. It should be her sisters to do that, if anyone at all. “You could just broach the subject, and gently let her know that it would be okay if she wanted to stay home and go back to school. Or, rather, for the very first time.” I inhale sharply at the realization: she has had zero education, apart from what education she gave herself. And that is far superior to the one I received in my private school, I’ll bet. “I am not going to play into that dynamic—it should be her family she relies on for ‘permission’. And later, hopefully, no one at all.”
Faith is chewing her lip.
Manuela is saying nothing.
“Would it help if I fired her?” I ask quietly.
“I think it would.” Manuela smiles.
“Done,” I say.
They both lean back, relieved.
“I’ll wait until the last possible minute though,” I promise, “in case she decides to quit on her own.”
“You’re good at this, Isaiah,” Faith tells me.
“I am so not.” I shake my head. “I am at a complete loss here, guys. What do I do? What am I supposed to do? I have to make it up to her, all those things she went through… I’ll have to make it up to her somehow. I didn’t do it all those years ago, because I didn’t know, but… someone has to. I have to. And I don’t even know where to start.”
“It’s not your job, little prince,” Manuela says kindly, her calm voice, a bit like Eden’s anchoring me to reality while I am freaking out.
“Stop calling him that, Manu,” Faith says—I’m impressed she remembers I said I hated it.
“Don’t stop, he likes it,” I say, and their eyes snap to mine.
“In that case, carry on, Highness,” Manuela says.
“Now, that I hate.” I point a finger at Manuela.
She grabs my finger midair, and looks me in the eye .
“It’s not your job, do you hear me?” she says, her voice carrying an intensity I’ve never heard before. “Do not let what happened poison your future or your present. The monster doesn’t get to ruin anything else. Anything . So it’s up to both of you to move on. It won’t be easy, but if you decide to do it, you can.”
“It sounds like her therapist wouldn’t agree with that,” I say, but Faith is shaking her head.
“You were there, Isaiah,” she whispers. “If Eden forgets everything else from that time, she will still have you. She will remember you. And with you, she will remember herself. She will not lose herself, because you kept her safe with you.”
And that’s when it happens.
It just slips out my mouth, almost without thinking.
“Please call me Zay,” I say. “My whole family does.”
“As you wish, Your Highness,” Faith says, bowing her head, and they both find this so hilarious, they nearly wake up Eden again with their laughter.
And that is how these two girls become my family.