Stone Cold Fox (86)

Her one-bedroom apartment was unassuming but tastefully decorated, though I was certain most of it was from Target or Amazon. A bit twee, but quite charming. Like Syl. “I’m so fat,” I said, not at all meaning it in jest, but she laughed anyway. She guided me to her baby blue sofa, handing me a colorful throw pillow for my back.

“You look great and who cares? It’ll come off. We have good genes. Do you want something to drink? Water? Tea?”

“Water would be nice, thanks,” I said, not addressing her comment about presumed shared genetics. That wasn’t what this reunion was about. Was it? At least not as far as I was concerned. I simply craved that maternal energy of Syl’s, hoping some of it could rub off on me in more ways than one.

“Be right back,” Syl said before retreating to her tiny kitchen. I looked around the apartment. Lots of plants, lots of wall art featuring nondescript beaches or pretty girls canoodling or random city skylines; she subscribed to Cosmopolitan magazine and received the Madewell catalog, and she’d framed a photo of herself with John at Niagara Falls, another with her father—Syl as a little girl, both of them in a front yard with a sprinkler going. From before.

I wondered if Mother had taken the photo.

I wanted to get a closer look at it, but I stayed put. I didn’t want to invite the topic into our discussion any sooner than necessary, if at all. I was still undecided. As much as I wanted to know the truth, it could jeopardize so much.

“Here you go,” Syl said, handing me the water. She didn’t sit next to me on the sofa, opting for a gray club chair instead. She swiveled in it from side to side with a blank look on her face. I suspected the reality of my return was settling in, baby or no baby. She was still upset. “You said some really awful things to me,” she declared. I would not be so lucky. We were going to go there. She was the hostess. She could run this however she wanted.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about you a lot. Since all of this,” I said, motioning to my behemoth belly.

“It’s wonderful,” Syl said. “Really.”

“Is it?” I sighed.

“You won’t be like her. In case you were worried.”

“You didn’t even know her, Syl. How can you be so sure?” I asked her, saying enough without saying it all.

“Because I know you. And you’re here. You came back. But she runs away.”

“Not from me.” My voice began to break. “I wish she had.” I swallowed my pending sob, nearly choking on the thought of Mother leaving me behind. I thought of Dean. He would have kept me if she’d left. Maybe he would have found me a new mother after she was gone. Why didn’t she leave me? It would have been so much easier for both of us. Wouldn’t it?

“No, you don’t,” Syl replied. “You say that, but trust me, being without a mother, without parents, is nothing to be jealous about.” I knew she believed that, but I also knew she had no idea what my life was like with Mother. It wasn’t a contest, our pain, but if it was, I would win.

“Tell me about her,” Syl said, soft and cautious.

“Do you remember anything else?” I asked her, still hoping for more details. “You mentioned her fingers. How she’d run them through your hair,” I said quietly.

“No. Not much else. Just what Dad tells me. He said that I wasn’t drawn to her, like most kids are to their moms. I don’t have a memory of it exactly. Just more of this feeling like I could watch her, but not necessarily be near her. What I can see of her in my head, she’s always far away. And it’s all jumbled. Sounds and images, just a mess in my mind.”

The same, but different. Syl could look at Mother, but not get close to her. I had felt the same, but I pushed through it anyway. I always got as close to her as I could, even when it hurt, especially so.

“Her face is my face, but I think you have her nose,” I told Syl.

“You have his,” she said.

Fuck. It was real, wasn’t it?

“Don’t. I can’t go this fast,” I whispered. We couldn’t keep doing this if I wanted to stay Bea Case, could we?

“Where did she take you?” Syl asked, moving from the chair to the sofa, closer to me. I debated telling her everything, telling everything to somebody would feel like such a release, but I had too much to lose.

“I don’t think I can keep talking about this,” I said.

“It’s okay,” she said, sensing my secrets. “We can take our time now. Another day.”

Would we have more time?

“Why didn’t you tell anyone your story about Collin? You surprised me. It was a side of you I hadn’t seen before.”

“It’s a side I don’t actually have.” Syl laughed, almost mirthlessly. “Honestly, I couldn’t do that to you. Or Collin, he’s so innocent in all of this anyway. I just— It’s not who I am.” I was right. Sweet Syl.

“I am sorry about what I said to you. I was being cruel because I was scared you might be telling the truth,” I admitted.

“I was telling the truth. But I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have even tried to pull anything like that, I was just kind of desperate because all I want in this world is for my dad to be exonerated from this crime he didn’t commit, and you can prove it. You made me so mad. I really thought you would help me.” Syl believed in me, and I’d let her down. I’d have to keep letting her down to stay Bea Case. “Anyway, the blackmail thing wasn’t even my idea. I mean, I had been trying to find you for such a long time because I knew the truth and I knew you were out there somewhere. I never wanted to hurt you, I just wanted to know you and when I finally found you—”