Chapter 21 #2
“Mom, are you sick?” I whisper.
Nola shakes her head adamantly. “No, no it’s not that. That would be a much easier conversation. Just do me a favor and continue to remind yourself that I love you more than anything.” This type of talk is doing nothing to lessen my anxiety.
“Then what is it? Did you spill paint thinner on the rug upstairs?” Nola snorts and pushes herself off the counter.
She checks her watch and then walks to the front door.
“This conversation will require a third participant who I’ve already gone ahead and invited to the table.
” She opens the door and, to my surprise, Jo is standing on the other side of the door, her arm raised to knock. She looks just as confused as I am.
“Hey, Nola? What’s going on? You texted a 911 emergency.” Jo steps across the threshold warily.
“Everything’s grand, Jo. Welcome to the Nola’s Confessional Hour.
Now give me a hug. I haven’t seen you once since I’ve been in town, which is a tragedy unto itself.
” Nola holds her arms out, and Jo steps into the embrace.
She mouths ‘What the f is going on?’ to me over Nola’s shoulder.
I shrug my response, my heart singing—despite the bizarre circumstances— at the sight of her.
“OK, come on, girls. Join me at the table outside,” Nola says, motioning for us to follow her through the sliding door onto the back porch.
We settle at the table, Jo and I sitting on one side of it with Nola facing us on the other.
She smiles broadly at us, but the look in her eyes remains nervous.
What the hell is she about to say? I feel Jo reach across the bench and grab my hand.
Relief surges through me, and I squeeze her hand gratefully.
“Alright. How to begin?” Nola starts, clasping her hands in front of her. “I guess at the beginning. Imagine me at age nineteen, full to bursting with my budding sexuality, desperate to explore the power harnessed in my young flesh but trapped in this hellscape—”
I raise my hand to stop her. This will not do. “Mom, knock it off. If you’ve got something to tell us, just tell us. No more word painting.”
“Okay, okay, you’re right. Keep it simple, Nola,” Mom says to herself.
She closes her eyes and takes a long breath in, holds it, and then lets it out in a loud whoosh that has Jo and I jumping backward in our seats.
“I’ve cleansed my chakra. I’m ready to try again.
Ok. Round two. I seduced Eli when I was nineteen and got pregnant.
There you have it.” She opens her eyes and looks back and forth between us quickly.
I blink rapidly, trying to make sense of the words. Minutes, days, hours, and seconds pass by in an instant. My brain refuses to make sense of what Nola just dropped into our laps. Eli? What did Jo’s dad have to do with any of this?
Jo’s clear voice is the only thing that cuts through the fog. “That’s impossible,” she says.
“I don’t have a father. Right, Mom?” I look back at Nola, knowing the moment I’ve said it how stupid it sounds. “I mean I have a father but he was just a one-night stand you met at a concert, right?”
“He was a one-night stand, you’re right about that. But no, he wasn’t someone I met randomly.” Nola reaches across the table to grab my hand, but I pull away from her, dropping my head into my hands, suddenly bone-achingly exhausted.
“Nola, what are you trying to tell us?” Jo asks.
“Are you talking about my father, Eli? Do we have the same father?” Even though she’s sitting calmly, I can tell by the tone of her voice that Jo is an absolute wreck.
Hearing her distress is the final push I need to get out of my head, and I squeeze her hand again.
“I was young and an idiot. I felt my dreams were way too big to this tiny town—I still do if I’m being honest”
“Focus, mom.”
Nola wrings her hands for a moment before continuing.
When her gaze finds mine again, her eyes are filled equally with love and fear.
“Eli and I had a brief dalliance. It wasn’t long after your mother passed, Jo.
We found comfort in each other. Paige, you are the fruit of our time together.
Eli never knew. I mean I think he might have suspected, but after our night together we never spoke again about it.
I told myself I’d keep the knowledge locked inside me until my last breath but…
after seeing how much you both need each other right now, I can’t stay silent.
” Nola’s eyes, which had been locked on her hands for most of her retelling, find Jo.
“Jo, what you’re going through can’t be accomplished alone.
You need people around you who you can lean on while you forge ahead with this new life.
You need someone who will remind you not to settle, to reach for your dreams without fear because they will catch you if you fall.
Paige is that person for you. Don’t push her away when she can help you learn how to be free again.
And Paige, I’ll always remember what you told me after your first day of school here, how you met a girl and felt something click inside you that you’d never felt before.
When I found out it was Jo, I was elated and terrified because I knew my time with you was ending.
I knew you’d been searching for that type of connection your whole life, and I had selfishly denied you any kind of permanence for so long.
I didn’t mean to—of course I thought I was giving you the life I’d always dreamed of, filled with art and possibility and adventure.
I’m so sorry, my love, that I deprived you for so long.
I’m so sorry I’ve kept this from you, knowing how much you craved belonging.
If I’d listened to you like I’d wished my parents had listened to me, I would have heard earlier that you and I wanted very different things.
So you see, girls, the bond you share is forged not only in shared love and experience, but in blood. You’re sisters.”
Nola sure has perfected the art of the bomb-drop, hasn’t she, pet? Nana’s voice is so clear in my head that I glance behind me to make sure she’s not standing there.
Jo and I have been sitting in silence this whole time. I’m almost afraid to look at her, not wanting to see the disappointment on her face that I know will be there. I’m expecting her to rage and scream and accuse Nola of lying because, honestly, it’s what I would do in Jo’s shoes.
What I’m not expecting Jo to do is wrap me in a hug so tight it feels like my ribs might crack. I’m not expecting us to sob into each other’s shoulders until the sobs eventually turn into laughter, both of us holding each other tight until we’re able to catch our breath again.
* * *
“I can’t wait to hear what you think of Better Than The Movies.
Liz and Wes are chef’s kiss,” I bring my fingers to my lips and make a loud muah sound for emphasis.
Emma, a precocious purple haired fourteen-year-old who’s been stopping by regularly after school, smiles and nods as she takes her new book purchase from my hands.
“I can’t wait. I loved the Rainbow Rowell book you recommended last.”
“When you finish this one, I’ve got about…
oh I don’t know, maybe eighty-five other novels to recommend to you,” I tell her and then lean across the counter and whisper, “You know, we could just chat about books and then you could go get them from the library. I don’t want your mom to think I’m coming for all your hard-earned cash. ”
“Thanks, Paige. I should just have my mom give my allowance straight to you.” Emma laughs and then waves before she turns to jog out of the store. I check the clock. Only fifteen minutes left before closing.
It’s been a week since Nola’s revelation and I’ve been surfing a host of raw emotions.
I cycle through waves of shock, anger, grief, and joy.
Rewind. Rinse. Repeat. It’s exhausting. Work has provided a small respite since being around Nola at the cabin has become…
fraught. I’m not mad at her, but I am resentful.
On one hand, I wish I had asked her to leave after her confession so I could get some space to process it all without her popping up in my face to ask me how I’m doing.
It’s all new. She was never a hoverer before but now—good lord, she’s the Apache Helicopter of hovering.
At work at least I’m able to hide behind the bookseller facade while my mind continues its endless loop.
“Welcome to Pages!” I have a father and I know who he is.
“Is there anything I can help you find?” Eli Barrett is my father.
“Any particular title you’re looking for today?” I knew my father, but now he’s dead.
“Oh, I loved that book, too. Here, let me show you a similar author.” I have a sister. She used to be my best friend, but now she’s my sister. A living, breathing sister.
Shock. Anger. Grief. Immeasurable joy.
Shayne has helped me as much as he can, but I tend to feel desperate and helpless after our conversations—I miss him so badly.
Right now, the distance between us isn’t presenting any problems, but I wish we had a solution to look forward to.
I wouldn’t dream of asking Jo to reconsider his position at the ranch.
Things between us are so much better now, and I don’t want to jeopardize that.
We had a whine n’wine at the ranch a couple of nights after what we’ve taken to calling ‘The Night of the Living Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants’.
It’s a mouthful, but it’s easier to say than ‘The Night My Mom Told Us That She Had A Brief Sexual Encounter With Your Dad Thereby Making Us Half-Sisters.’