Chapter 9
9
R AIN
Boston
The cab takes me to the North End neighborhood of Boston, an area with beautiful buildings, broad streets, and colorful playgrounds.
It’s the third stop and the final one. I hope.
I’ve spent half a day today playing detective, making phone calls, knocking on doors, and asking people.
Trying to locate Daria.
The address my mother initially gave me goes way back to when Daria was still talking to her.
I found my sister’s former roommate at that address.
The woman couldn’t give me much information about why Daria had moved away.
In her typical manner, she informed her roommate she had found a better place to live, and off she went.
Her roommate confessed it must’ve had to do with a man.
I wasn’t surprised.
But my next stop wasn’t Daria’s home either, although she’d lived there for a while. The man who opened the door to that place gave another piece of helpful information.
Daria and Weston, her then-boyfriend, had lived in that apartment for about six months before he swooped in.
The man gave me my sister’s new address, where he used to forward her mail, and that’s the lead I’m following right now.
“This is it,” the cab driver says, pointing to a modern building entrance.
“Thank you.”
I pay the man the fare before slipping out and heading to the glass doors.
A couple walking a small dog exits the building as I stroll in.
A lavishly lit lobby greets me inside.
I find my way to the elevator, and once inside the car, I press the button for the third floor.
The doors pull open a few moments later.
I exit the elevator, turn left, and search for the number.
Eventually, I find the door, ring the doorbell, and wait.
Footsteps echo inside, followed by a man and a woman dialogue before the door swings open.
A man looks at me.
He has no idea who I am.
“Weston?” I try.
His eyebrows push up.
“Who’s Weston?”
For a moment, I’m under the impression that he talks to me, yet he flicks his head, glancing over his shoulder.
“Who’s Weston, babe?”
Footsteps move across the floor out of my sight before Daria shows up.
Her eyes widen with surprise.
“Rain??”
The man steps to the side, so I can see her.
“Who’s Rain?” he asks.
I lock eyes with my sister.
She ignores the man whose gaze moves quickly between the two of us.
“What are you doing here?” she asks brashly.
“I wanted to see if you were okay. You didn’t return my calls.”
I pause.
“May I come in?” I ask.
Pursing her lips, she ponders, her eyes hovering over my pink dress and silver flats.
To my surprise, she slides the door open all the way and lets me in.
I take a few steps in and stop in the middle of her apartment.
The place is welcoming and tastefully decorated.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asks coldly.
“No. I’m good.”
“Who is Rain, babe?” the man murmurs behind her.
“Rain Sexton is my sister,” she says without looking at him, intentionally emphasizing my last name.
The man walks around her and stretches out his hand to me.
“Raoul Mann,” he says, shaking my hand.
A friendly smile slides over his lips, and his expression is different than my sister’s.
“I’ll make a fresh pot of coffee while you two catch up,” he says, looking at me.
With a friendly gesture, he invites me to sit on the plush couch.
Slowly, I lower myself on the sofa, studying my sister.
She’s gained a few pounds, has dark circles under her eyes, her hair is tied in a bun, and she wears no makeup.
A flared top hides most of her silhouette, falling over a pair of gray sweatpants.
“Is everything okay with you?” I ask, not hinting at anything in particular.
“Yes. Why?” she asks suspiciously.
Her eyes drill deep into mine.
“You got us worried.”
“Us?”
The sarcasm in her voice grates on my ear.
“Yes, us.”
She looks away just as Raoul enters the room with a cup of coffee.
He places it on the table in front of me before bringing the cream and the sugar and setting them next to it.
“I didn’t know how you like it,” he says, friendly again.
“Thank you. It’s perfect,” I say, smiling.
He looks at Daria, who doesn’t take her eyes away from me.
“No coffee for you, honey,” he says, bending over and kissing my sister on her head.
“Okay,” she grumps.
“I’ll let you two talk,” he says, retreating and ignoring her foul mood. “I’ll be in the other room if you need me.”
With that, he walks away.
“He seems like a nice guy,” I say, pouring cream and sugar into my coffee and stirring my drink with a teaspoon.
“Yeah... He is,” she says curtly.
“What happened with Weston?”
“How do you know about Weston?”
“Your neighbor told me.”
She makes a dismissive gesture, and that trail of information ends right there.
I don’t expect her to tell me more about her ex-boyfriend.
“What’s new with you?” I ask, giving up on Weston.
I take a sip of coffee.
She slides back into her seat, folding a leg under her.
“I’m pregnant,” she deadpans, my cup of coffee still connected to my lips.
I choke on the hot drink.
I peel the cup away from my mouth before coughing for a few good moments.
A devilish smile curls her lips.
She hasn’t changed a bit.
“Pregnant?” I ask, my eyes going to her top as I run a napkin over my lips.
Hence the ‘no coffee for you, honey.’
“Yup.”
I lift my gaze.
“Why couldn’t you say something?”
In her usual way, she shrugs.
Carelessly, I would say.
“I’m telling you now.”
“What about Mom?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell her,” she says, picking up a piece of candy from the glass bowl on the table.
She unwraps it and pops it into her mouth.
“She’s gonna be mad at you.”
“She’ll get over it.”
Slowly, I lean back in my seat.
“Who’s, um... Who’s the father?”
She scoops out another piece of candy, her lips pressed into a secret smile.
“Raoul.”
“Is he?”
She sags back in her seat, an amused expression splashed over her face.
Her chin ticks down, giving me an affirmative answer.
I open my mouth a few times, not knowing what to say. I thought people would react differently in this kind of situation, and they'd be joyful and eager to share the news with their families, yet she doesn't seem too happy.
“You just said it,” she continues. “Raoul is a nice guy, and that was more than enough to leave Weston for him.”
Her coldness sends a shiver down my spine.
She wanted a good father for her child––that doesn’t make her present circumstances less puzzling.
Did she plan to be a mother?
She sure doesn’t seem to glow.
I slump in my seat, more baffled than ever, with lots of questions on my lips.
I doubt she’ll give me any answers, but I'm doing my best to continue our conversation.
“Is it a boy or a girl?”
“It’s a girl. Nadia,” she says curtly as if wanting to get it over with.
Her eyes don’t leave my face.
I lift my coffee from the table and take another sip before having a hard time swallowing.
“Why are you here, Rain?” she throws at me abrasively.
“It’s not what you think,” I say defensively, suspecting where her frustration stems from.
She crosses her arms over her chest, scalding me with her eyes.
“No?”
I set the cup down.
“No. I’m not here ‘to rub it in your face' as you might think. I haven’t heard from you in a long time, and Mom was worried too.”
“She has her own life,” she says, venting her frustration.
“Yes, she does. Why are you so pissed and holding it against her anyway? She’s had a difficult time, too,” I say, irritated.
I expect her to kick me out of her home.
She gestures in my direction, but it’s akin to ‘Never mind.’
“I’m sorry,” she says to my surprise. “I didn’t want to come across that way,” she adds in a softer voice.
My mouth falls open.
That’s news to me.
Her eyes peel away from me as she pushes off the couch and walks to the kitchen.
She leaves me alone for a few moments before returning with a plate of sliced apples.
She sets it on the table, picks up a slice, and invites me to take one.
“That’s pretty much the only fruit I can eat,” she comments.
I scoop up a piece of apple and chew on it.
“How are things with you?” she asks quietly, not looking at me as she takes another slice from the plate.
“I’m okay. I’m on my way to New York. I’m visiting Eve this weekend.”
Her gaze swings up.
“How is she?”
“She’s good. She has a new job and is happy with her new life in the city.”
“Married?”
“No. Are you married?” I ask, slipping out one of the questions that I consider delicate.
“I’m engaged. We’re getting married next year.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“He’s an engineer. Computer engineer,” she adds.
“That’s good,” I say, perfectly aware I’m on shaky ground with her.
Her gaze flicks up again.
“Not as good as being a billionaire in your early thirties,” she retorts, and I don’t know how to respond to that, nor do I know if I should.
I freeze in my seat, empty of ideas, while she studies my face.
Through some miracle, she moves her hand dismissively, dispersing the tension between us.
“Relax. I’m teasing you,” she says, not exactly smiling but not showing anger toward me either.
A sigh of relief falls from my lips.
“How is James Sexton?” she asks, munching on another slice of apple.
“He’s good. He travels a lot.”
She tosses me a glance.
“Work?”
“Yes.”
“No planning for kids, huh?”
“Not right now.”
“You have enough time.”
“I could say the same thing about you.”
“Nah... I didn’t want to wait. I’d rather have them sooner than later.”
My mouth drops open again.
She catches sight of my bewildered expression and chuckles.
“You never imagined I’d say something like this, did you?” she asks, more relaxed.
“Honestly? No.”
“Well, I never thought you’d end up being James Sexton’s wife, either, so we’re even, I guess.”
There’s no innuendo in her voice, yet commenting is out of the question, so I tip my gaze down, grab my coffee, and keep my mouth shut.
“He’s not a bad man, either,” she says, her stare burning holes into my face.
“Who are you talking about?” I ask.
“James Sexton.”
I stare at her.
“What makes you say that?”
A slow smile tugs at her lips.
“You got lucky with him, sis.”
I open my mouth to retort, but her hand goes up, stopping me.
“I’m not teasing you this time. I really mean it.”
She pushes the plate away from her and crashes back into her seat, hugging a pillow to comfort herself.
She weighs her words before talking again.
“I know I was mean to you in the past...” she says. “I always thought the things I wanted always fell into your lap.”
“Are you saying you wanted James Sexton?”
“I didn’t necessarily want him. I wanted someone like him and the money and freedom that comes with it.”
My life parades before my eyes, and I’m not so sure this is the freedom that she wanted.
“Your life is not that bad right now,” I say. “You have a nice place, a good man, and a baby on the way. You look good, and you’re healthy. You have a college degree,” I add.
“I didn’t go to school because I wanted to. I had to.”
She pauses.
“You know I tried to do what you did,” she says after a few moments of silence.
I look at her, frosted.
“The kind of ‘work’ you used to do in New York,” she clarifies.
I stay mum while she breathes a chuckle.
“Funny thing was, I wasn’t very good at it. And that’s when it dawned on me that you were much more than I thought. And that completely changed my opinion about you.”
“Is that why you didn’t show up at my wedding?” I toss at her, letting out my frustrations.
“It was more than that,” she says, not giving me more.
“What was it?”
She stares at me in silence.
“I promised James I’d stay away from you.”
I look at her incredulously.
“What? You promised him not to come to my wedding?”
I can’t believe how ridiculous it sounds.
“I promised him to stay away from you.”
“Why? I don’t understand.”
“It’s a long story.”
She studies my face before continuing.
“I’m not very proud of it.”
My pulse races.
“Why am I hearing about this only now?” I ask.
“Because I kept my promise. And seemingly, he did too.”
“What exactly are you talking about?”
Silence falls over the room.
My eyes move over her face as I try to put two and two together.
“Wait a minute... Is that why you didn’t keep in touch with any of us?”
She sighs.
“It wasn’t only that.”
Another pause ensues as she gathers her thoughts.
“As I said before, there wasn’t only one reason. It was the promise that I’d made to him and the fact that everyone else had moved on with their lives. Mom, you. Our father. I also felt I had nothing to be proud of or boast about. My life was far from glamorous. I was a typical twenty-something-year-old struggling to finish college, find a man, and build a life. I didn’t feel like I was on a great path. And I was angry too. That’s why I held a grudge against you.”
“Why did you promise him that? And when did you do that?”
Quietly, she searches my eyes.
“Do you remember when I came to New York for your birthday?”
“Yes.”
“I was in town, learned about your business, and paid you a visit. Lex Harrington walked out of your apartment that day, and I saw him kissing you, which made me fume, so I took a few pictures of you two.”
My heart stops for a second.
“What?”
“Yes, I did. And then I sent them to James Sexton.”
I turn to stone.
She spends a couple of seconds taking in my baffled expression.
“You left your phone on the table and went to the kitchen while I was there. That’s how I got his cell phone number.”
“Why would you do something like that? Lex was there as a friend. What you saw that day wasn’t what you thought it was.”
“It didn’t matter what I thought. It was how it looked, and you two sure looked like you were in love with each other.”
“James never said anything to me.”
“He didn’t need to. He said it to me.”
“When?”
“Weeks later, when I was back in New York trying to do what you did for money and spectacularly failed. I had no idea what I did wrong, if anything, but I wasn’t cut for it. Eventually, I learned that your business was built on skill as much as on connections, and I wasn’t very good at establishing that. So, to make a long story short, I gave up on the idea, but that didn’t solve my money problem. I had two more years of school and no money left. Plus, a lot of debt, so I came back to you.”
“To me? When was that? I can’t remember.”
She smiles.
“There’s no way you could remember. You never knew I was there.”
I look at her, intrigued.
“You were in the bathroom when James opened the door. I knew he suspected I’d sent those pictures when we locked eyes. He threatened to track me down and put me away if I pulled that sort of thing on you again. I don’t know what he meant by that exactly. He also confessed he probably wouldn’t have been back with you had I not sent those pictures to him. So there was my punishment. That aside, I wanted to talk to you and ask for money that day. He figured me out quickly and suggested I should ask him instead. He said my chances of getting it from you were almost non-existent, and he was probably right, so I cut a deal with him. He said he’d give me money for school if I stayed away from you until I started to behave like a sister to you.”
I look at her, perplexed.
“I took the deal because I needed the money. But he was right. I did behave like a bitch all those years. I asked him for forty thousand dollars, and he gave me one hundred thousand dollars. Anything would’ve helped me at that point––even less money than that––but having more money than I needed pulled me out of the hole, made me finish my school, and allowed me to put a down payment on this apartment.”
My lips are dry.
“I asked him not to tell you if it didn’t make a difference to him. Apparently, he didn’t. I felt ashamed for getting the money from him, which was another reason I didn’t want to face you or anyone else in our family again.”
“What made you think it would’ve mattered to us?”
A bitter smile pulls at her lips.
“Oh. It would’ve mattered. Believe me. He was the man who ruined our family, and you fell in love with him and married him while I took money from him. Neither Mom nor Dad would’ve liked that.”
I take a deep breath.
“I don’t know what to say. That might’ve been the case back then, but I don’t think anyone cares about it now. They might still think of him as the man who ruined our family, but they all agree their lives are better now.”
A few moments pass.
She talks first.
“James helped me when I needed it the most. And I’m not proud of what I’ve done to you. Anyway, it’s in the past now. I kept my end of the deal as best as possible, although I didn’t know how to be a good sister, and that was a good enough reason not to return your calls.”