A Summer Like No Other Read online

  “But Claire was your assistant until eight years ago.”

  Dad’s eyes dart everywhere before settling on a point behind me. “Part of the agreement was to keep Claire working for us for as long as she needed to, as long as she wanted to. She left on her own. Claire is not the one who has loved you all those years.”

  Tears spring out of my eyes again. “I know that. But why lie to us?”

  Mom holds her hand to her mouth, like she’s stifling a scream, like there’s more to the story than my father is saying. “Yes, why lie to us?” And her voice is too devoid of emotions. Roberto wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Come on, sis, let’s get you some hot chocolate with marshmallows.” That’s the drink Mom used to make me every single time I hurt myself—falling from a bike, feeling rejected by Nick, losing a tooth. “Come on, Mom,” Rob says and Mom follows us into the kitchen, leaving Dad behind.

  CHAPTER 26 – NICK

  I spend several hours with Emilia on the phone. She tells me about the lies, she tells me how she doubts the whole truth came out, she tells me her dad claims he doesn’t know where Claire Carter is. She tells me she’s not even sure she wants to meet the woman who tried to sell her to the highest bidder.

  I continue talking to her, until her words start to slur, until she tells me she’s sleepy, until she falls asleep on the phone. My ear is hot from my cell and my body hurts from the position I was in, but I don’t fall asleep.

  I wait for my father to get home. And he does, at two thirty in the morning.

  I sit by his bedroom door and he jumps when he sees me. “What are you doing here?”

  I pull out the birth certificate from Em’s adoption’s file. “We found this.”

  Dad sits down next to me and I’m pretty sure my mouth has never gaped that wide open. “I knew one day or another you’d find it. I’m surprised you didn’t earlier. Sarina called me to let me know you got into the office with Emilia.” He pauses. “And, is she happier now than she was before?”

  “At least she knows that Claire Carter is her mother.”

  “Oh, that’s what she knows. Interesting.” He cracks his knuckles, which in his business suit looks almost ridiculous.

  “Where does Claire Carter live?”

  “Didn’t Dino tell her?”

  “He said he has no contact with her,” I reply.

  “Again, interesting.” My father sighs. “I’ll help you.”

  I shake my head, knowing that my father never offers help for free. “And what do I need to do?”

  “You need to cool things down with Emilia. And I’m saying that for her sake too. Once you go see Claire Carter, you can be there for her, but as a friend. Otherwise you’re going to end up hurting her.” He pauses. “Is that what you want? To hurt her even more than she’s hurting now?”

  “I won’t hurt her.”

  “You will, by going out with Jennifer. As you promised me. And...” He raises a finger to my face. “And...if you forgot this promise, you’re going to remember it fast. I’ll give you Claire’s address today if you promise to go out with Jen, to help me land that business deal by showing everyone how charming you are.” He pauses again. “You need to realize, son, that you cannot do all that you please. If I had done that, I’d never be where I am today.”

  I turn my head to him. He looks tired, worn out and bitter. Is that who I want to be? But then I remember Em’s tears, her desire to meet her real mom, and I remember the time and dedication I need to make it as a professional dancer.

  I remember my rules. And even though it feels like I’m punching myself in the stomach, I say, “Give me Claire’s address.”

  My father doesn’t look like he won an argument; he looks sad as he replies, “You’re doing the right thing.”

  CHAPTER 27 - EM

  My eyes must still be red from all the crying I’ve done yesterday, but I’m trying very hard to stay positive.

  Nick called me this morning to tell me he convinced his father to give him Claire Carter’s address and phone number.

  We know where Claire Carter lives and we’re going tomorrow—before I change my mind. We hesitated about contacting her first, but I don’t know what to say on the phone, and there’s a part of me that’s scared she doesn’t want to see me. There’s a part of me that still doesn’t know what to believe. There’s a part of me that wants to stop everything and never look back.

  But I can’t.

  I want to ask her what happened back then. I want to ask her why she tried to sell me off. What was going on in her life? I want to make sure she’s okay. She did wrap me in the onesie and the blanket. My father told me that when they arranged the pick-up, she had me in those clothes. I want to believe she cared. I want to believe she still cares.

  Less than twenty-four hours to go. Nick decided I need to relax somehow so he’s taking me to the movies.

  I stroll down the street. The sun is warm on my skin but not too hot. It’s a perfect summer day and I should enjoy it as such.

  The Bam Rose Cinemas in Brooklyn is playing some indie movies, and we’ll get to hold hands in the air-conditioned theater.

  Nick’s waiting for me in front of the theater and I slow my pace to look at him. He’s on his phone, probably playing a new game; he’s wearing cargo shorts and a Mario Brothers shirt. I’m sure the people around him don’t realize that he’s not only super hot, he’s also on the path to entering a prestigious ballet company. I’m not sure he even realizes how amazing he is.

  “You know the best game isn’t Mario, it’s Zelda,” I call and he looks up, grinning as if he hasn’t seen me for days, as if he didn’t talk to me until I fell asleep on the phone yesterday.

  “You are breaking my heart with those words,” he jokes and leans down to kiss me on the lips. My heart still flutters at the contact. My heart believes our summer is going to last forever. My heart believes Claire will be happy to see me. My heart believes in happy endings.

  My heart is hopeless.

  He holds my hand as we pay for our tickets, but right before we enter the theater, a very familiar voice chirps next to us. “Oh my God, Nick! I thought that was you!”

  Jen.

  A chill runs down my spine. She’s ignoring me, of course. Nick squeezes my hand and then lets it go. “I didn’t know you were back already.”

  “I should have called you.”

  Why? I want to ask her. So you can try to get back with him? He doesn’t want you! I want to scream.

  “Em and I were on our way to watch a movie,” he says, nodding my way but not saying or doing anything that would show her we’re an item.

  Because, we’re not.

  My heart sinks to my feet and I struggle not to let my pain show in the way I purse my lips.

  “Oh Emilia,” Jen says with the fakest enthusiasm on the planet. “I didn’t see you.” Liar. She pauses. “Love the dress—even though...” She doesn’t finish her sentence, she simply smiles brighter, knowing she managed to rattle me. I’m wearing one my favorite dresses. It’s light blue and almost touches my feet, with a thin crisscross on the back.

  “I’m so happy to run into you, Nick. Mom says there’s a party at your place next week. Love your dad’s cocktail parties. They’re the best.” Nick glances at me, mouthing he didn’t know about the party. But it sounds like something his dad would do.

  “France was fantastic,” she continues to talk. Her black hair looks like silk on her shoulder. Her light caramel skin is flawless and she’s got dimples when she smiles. She’s always very well put together. Today, she’s wearing some beige shorts with red ballet flats and a red top that shows off her cleavage. At least I have slightly bigger boobs than she does.

  “That’s so nice of you to help Roberto out by spending time with his little sister,” Jen says, caressing Nick’s arm with her index finger.

  I’m about to bite it off. She’s going to lose a finger; it’s not like she needs it to dance.

  “You know me. I’m very nice
,” Nick says. Is he flirting with her? He glances at me and smiles. I’m about to stomp away from both of them, when Jen sighs.

  “I have to go. Mom’s waiting for me at that little bakery she discovered on this side of town. Apparently, it's better than the caterer she uses on the Upper West Side, but I’ll definitely see you guys around. Well, especially you, Nick. We should talk about rehearsing together or maybe go see a show or something.”

  “We’ll talk,” Nick replies, and Jen doesn’t acknowledge me again as she skips back into the sidewalk, back into her perfect little life. Nick turns to me. “I’m sorry. I know she’s a bit much.”

  “A bit much? She’s not the one who seems to be ashamed of me,” I reply, grinding my teeth so hard it hurts.

  “What?” Nick raises both eyebrows as if what I was saying was some sort of revelation to him, as if he never looked at it that way.

  “Come on, you dropped my hand so fast there,” I reply, feeling silly because I know what he’s going to say. We agreed.

  “We agreed,” he says. And there we go. An iron fist squeezes my chest but I breathe through it. I’m not going to make a scene here—I did agree to this summer. Only this summer. Technically, it was my idea. My own stupid idea.

  “You’re right. She gets on my nerves, that’s it.” That’s only half a lie, because right now he also gets on my nerves. For not wanting more. For not even acknowledging the fact he might want more. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and I stiffen instead of relaxing in his embrace.

  “Be careful, somebody else might see us,” I sneer.

  It seems summer is about to end.

  CHAPTER 28 - NICK

  Em is tense the entire movie, and she’s tense on the way back to her place. I can’t blame her, but I honestly didn’t know how to react when I saw Jen.

  I thought Em and I had an understanding, I thought she agreed that it’d be best to not take whatever we’re doing past the end of the summer.

  And I’m no fucking mind reader. She also gives me mixed signals; she’s never said anything about trying to stay together.

  I rub the back of my neck and glance at her. She’s strolling next to me, but not touching me. Usually our arms would brush, our hands would casually bump into each other and then we’d smile. I love her smile. She’s Em.

  How can I tell her I agreed to date Jen again to get Claire’s address? How can I tell her I’ve been doing this for two years, dating girls not only because I want to, but to help Dad? How can I tell her my dad would cut all funds to me if he knew we were serious? How can I tell her that I don’t think I’m cut out for a relationship? I always put myself first, and my dancing is even more important to me now.

  She’s blabbering, trying to fill in the silence while we usually never had to. Even our silences were full of unsaid words. Comfortable silences, fun silences, sexy silences. “We’re moving next week. I need to start helping Nonna a bit more in the restaurant.” She’s blushing. The restaurant. Those images of her against the wall, of the way she tentatively touched me, of the way I wanted all of her. How I still want all of her. And I want her to really smile. I’m giving myself mixed signals—no wonder she seems confused.

  “Em,” I say.

  She turns to me and her smile isn’t the one I’m used to. She’s giving me her perfect smile, but there’s no warmth in there, only sadness. “Yes?”

  “Do you still want me to come with you tomorrow?” My tone is serious and inside, I beg her to say yes.

  “Do you want to?” she asks.

  I take her hand in mine gently, pulling her away from the traffic on the sidewalk into a little side street, and tilt her head toward mine. There’s no way I’m going to let her do this all by herself. I want to be strong for her no matter what she finds. I want to be there for her. “I want to,” I tell her.

  And then I kiss her.

  I wouldn’t even care if someone saw.

  CHAPTER 29 - EM

  Nick parks on the other side of Claire Carter’s house. He’s stayed silent the entire drive to Jersey, as if he knew I needed time for myself. I played several scenarios in my mind: the hugging one, where all is good and well and she’s happy to see me and she bursts into tears apologizing and telling me how much she’s missed me and she has a perfect explanation for trying to sell me off, all the way to the I-don’t-know-who-you-are scenario where she doesn’t even care that I’m here, and the indifferent one.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Nick asks, caressing my hand with one finger. It’s soothing and comforting and it needs to stop. I can’t let myself get even more attached to him. Every moment we’ve been spending together, I’ve fallen harder and harder. I’ve fallen so hard I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get up again.

  “I’m sure. Thanks again for driving,” I reply. I didn’t want to ask for the car, I didn’t want to tell my parents where I was going.

  “I’m here. I’m waiting for you right here and if you need anything, you know our sign, right?”

  I smile. “I’m not going to moonwalk if I need help. That’s ridiculous.”

  “Whatever.” His lips turn into the most heartwarming smile I’ve ever seen. It’s a smile that says “we’re good together,” it’s a smile that says we could stay together, forever. But, what do I know? Maybe, I’m like all the other ones. Maybe I’m like Jen and I’m only falling for a smile he’s used on them.

  He leans in and I let myself believe for a second that everything is going to be fine: Nick is going to realize that we can make our relationship work and my birth mother is going to be happy to see me, she’s going to invite me inside her house and we’re going to have tea.

  Why tea?

  I don’t know...in my mind, it looks like a good way to introduce ourselves.

  I kiss Nick gently and then grab the bag I prepared especially for this visit from the backseat and head out to see my mother.

  I can’t believe I’m standing here. In front of her home. The streets end in a cul-de-sac with little kids playing with their parents. The houses are big, though not enormous-in-your-face big like Nick’s or the one we can no longer afford.

  They have nice porches with bunches of roses and welcome signs flowing in the wind.

  This is too idyllic, this is too much.

  I’m about to ring the doorbell when a kid rushes out the door and bumps into me.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” he says, and he looks to be about eight years old. He’s missing a tooth and wearing a soccer jersey. His curly hair reminds me of mine and my heart stops. Then an older girl follows him outside. She’s maybe twelve or something. She has the same locks but her eyes are bright blue and she has better skin than I had at that age. She frowns like she’s annoyed at something but then her brother playfully nudges her and she smiles. She has braces and dimples.

  They could be my siblings. If for some reason, she and her husband decided not to have me but then had them. I could be looking at my brother and sister or half-brother and half-sister.

  “Who are you?” The little boy asks.

  My lips form an “o” but no sound comes out. They’re staring at me now.

  A woman’s voice calls from inside. “Wait for me!” And then mutters, “Where did I put my keys again. Shawna, did you see my keys?”

  “No!” the girl replies, still looking at me. Even though we don’t have the same eye color, I’m pretty sure we have the same shape: almond eyes, as Mom calls them. She grabs her brother’s hand and shields him behind her. Like I’m a threat or something. My stomach crashes like a broken ballerina to my ankles.

  The woman—their mother....my mother—steps out, holding a caddy bag with their family name on it. Carter. I’m at the right house. She’s less than a foot away from me. The woman who gave birth to me is less than a foot away. I narrow my eyes. Do I look like her? She has a little scar on one cheek—where does it come from? And she’s got dimples. I don’t. But we have the same smile. At least I think so. Maybe, sh
e remembers me. Granted, she’s seen me at least once at that office party. I was only eight then but I’m her daughter, she should have my face imprinted in her memory.

  Claire Carter clears her throat with no sign of recognition. “Hi, I’m sorry. We need to run.” She pauses. “Are you selling raffle tickets? I’ve seen other high school students earlier today. I already bought some but maybe if you come back later, you can sell some to my husband.” Her voice is warm.

  “I’m not,” I reply and I hate my voice for breaking, I hate my voice for showing my weakness to her. The little boy pulls on her shirt and she smiles at him.

  It’s a mother smile, the type of smile that says I love you and I’ll always love you, the type of smile that says I can’t believe you’re a part of me. I’ve seen that smile before—even though my mother did not give birth to me, she still smiles at me like this. And my heart squeezes so tight I’m afraid I won’t remember how to breathe.

  Claire Carter—my birth mother—turns to me and then her eyes roam my face. I want her to have a moment of recognition, I want her to understand who I am, but I’m also afraid now of what it would do to her, to her children, to her life.

  “Is everything okay?” she asks me.

  And I do the only thing I can think of to make her understand without saying the words: my trembling fingers shuffle in my bag and I pull out the little baby blanket she had wrapped me with. The one with the ballerina dancer with a big smile and the words “future ballerina.” The one reason why I started dancing so seriously, why I tried out for the School of Performing Arts, why I won’t ever give up.

  She gasps and takes a step back. She looks at everything but me. Her daughter seems to sense something’s wrong because she also pulls on her mom’s shirt.

  “Mom!” the little boy whines. “I’m going to be late!”

  Finally, she looks at me.