Page 65 of What You Never Knew

I hear Ezra rushing down the hallway toward the bathroom, so I quickly kick the door shut with one foot. He pounds on it, demanding to know if I’m all right, but all I can do is pull a towel from the towel bar and shove it into my mouth to stop the scream.

Bathroom doors are not impenetrable. Ezra eventually gets in and finds me on the floor, sobbing into the bath towel, vomit in the toilet. I let him pick me up off the floor and guide me to the couch in the living room. He brings me a glass of water and tells me to take deep breaths, but every time I try to explain, new waves of grief and anger roll through me, bringing more tears.

He paces in front of me until I can finally talk. It all comes rushing out as though I were accusing him, not his father and my mother. He shakes his head, refuses to believe it, so I get the cigar box, shake it in his face, and ask him why his father would have these things. I repeat every time that Willa mentioned the girl.

He is silent for a long time, just standing there studying my face until he can see it there in me—his father. “That bastard” is the first thing he says, and there is true venom in his words. “My mother couldn’t give him his own blood child, so he had one with another woman.”

“She definitely saw it, me, as the biggest betrayal of all. She said once, ‘If it hadn’t been for the girl, I could have forgiven him.’ ” I picture her that day in her living room, driven mad with anger and sadness, jealousy and regret. “I just had no idea that the girl was me, that I was the thing that was so unforgivable.”

MAY

The night that I sat tucked in a ball of shadow on the second-to-last step of the cottage staircase, I became a witness to all the betrayal. At first it was just my mother saying it was lies, all lies, that Willa was a jealous, crazy woman out to destroy her. Some French words slipped into her defense at times, which let me know that she was scared.

I assumed it was the affair she was denying, but then, in a strangely calm and composed voice, I heard my father say, “I did often wonder if June was really mine.” I thought I’d misheard him, but he went on. “The summer before she was born, you wouldn’t let me touch you. We didn’t have sex even once. Then you come back to the city, have me undressed before you’ve even unpacked, and lo and behold you get pregnant. And the baby is a month early. Can you believe it?” He laughed a bitter-sounding laugh. “I must give you credit, though, Avril. Getting pregnant by the caretaker and then making me believe all these years that she was mine. Pretty darn clever.”

At that point I wished so badly that I could run back upstairs and unhear what I’d heard. June was West’s daughter, my half sister, Ezra’s half sister? I wanted to climb back into bed and be none the wiser.

My mother started her loop of denial once again, but my father ended it with a fist coming down hard on whatever table he was closest to. It scared her quiet, along with everything else. Even the hum of the ceiling fan in the living room seemed to lessen.

His next proclamation was simple and to the point: “You are a whore, April Bennett. You probably always were, and I was just too stupid to see it.” My mother gasped at his harsh words and I hugged my knees tighter to my body, as though becoming smaller could make me hear less. “I’m leaving you,” he continued. “I’m taking May with me, and you won’t see either of us ever again. You and June can run off with your maintenance man and live happily ever after, for all I care. And don’t think you’ll be getting a penny from me. Not a penny.”

Flashes of light appeared in front of my eyes, and I felt like I was going to throw up. My mother started sobbing, and tears began to silently fall from my eyes.

“You can’t do that,” she said. “You can’t take May away from her mother and sister. You can’t.”

“I can and I will, April. I’m a powerful man. I can make a lot of things happen. I’m not going to leave my only daughter with a whore for a mother. I’m going to go wake her up, and then we’re leaving. You and June have twenty-four hours to get off this island, but after that, if you’re still here, I’ll have you arrested.”

The flashes of light turned to a pulsing red orb that set my entire body on fire. I had only one thought in that moment, and it was that I would not be separated from my sister. Without a plan or any forethought, only pure rage and fear, I lunged free of my hiding space and ran at him. Throwing my entire weight at his body so that he stumbled backward, fell against the fireplace, and died. Setting in motion a string of events that would change people’s lives forever.

JUNE

I wake up slowly. After the discovery that West was my father, I told Ezra I needed some time alone and locked myself in his bedroom. The entire landscape of my life had changed in a split second, and I needed time to process it.

I must have fallen asleep at some point, everything in me just shutting down. It feels as though hours have passed and the day is gone. Deciding that I have to face Ezra and the world sometime, I leave the cocoon of blankets I’m wrapped in and go back out into the main part of the apartment.

I’m surprised to see that the sun is starting to go down. Ezra is moving around the kitchen to a soundtrack of jazz. I slip onto a stool at the island, and he slides me a glass of red wine.

“I’m sure you could use that,” he says, pausing in the cutting of an onion to survey my face.

“Thanks,” I say, before taking a sip of wine and then another. “What are you making?”

“Just a couple of omelets.” He brushes the chopped onion into a frying pan bubbling with butter. “I didn’t think you’d be very hungry and neither am I, but we should probably eat something.”

“You’re right. I’m not.” An ache starts in my heart and travels down into my belly and legs, then up my arms and neck until it’s taken over my whole body.

I drink down more wine, trying to drown my thoughts and focus on the mundane tasks he’s performing in front of me. I watch his hands as he breaks eggs into a metal bowl, then whisks them into a sunny yellow batter. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his mouth open just slightly. I know in this moment that I love him. Truly love him. I also know there’s an uncrossable chasm of history, lies, secrets, and betrayal that sits between us.

“So, I guess we’re brother and sister,” I say, trying to infuse some humor into this messed-up situation.

“Ah, no, we’re not,” he’s quick to say, not even missing a beat in his omelet making. “I was adopted, remember? We don’t share a bit of blood. And thank god for that, because otherwise I’d be in love with my sister.” He visibly shudders.

His proclamation of love, even though I was only just thinking it myself, catches me off guard, his words breaking through the thick skin of my heart. I start to cry. He moves the frying pan off the heat and rushes to me.

“It’s going to be okay, June. We’ll get past all of this, I promise.” He wipes away my tears and holds me to him.

I reach up and pull his face to mine, kissing him deeply, letting my desire for him push away all other emotions. He returns it equally. We move quickly to the bedroom and waste no time stripping away our clothes, coming together with the desperation of two people who have lost too much and are on the brink of losing each other.

Waking at dawn, I move slowly off the bed, make sure Ezra is still sleeping, and then soundlessly slip out of the apartment. The sky is gray and the heat has lifted. The bow of the boat cuts through the light fog that swirls across the surface of the still lake. I’m the only one out here, the sound of my motor a cruel interruption to the peaceful silence of the early morning.