Majesty (American Royals, #2)(66)
A few hundred yards away, on the edge of the park, stood the oxidized green form of the Statue of Liberty. Floodlights illuminated the statue’s face, casting her features in a golden-green blaze. She looked more dynamic from this angle, as if she’d been caught in a swirl of motion—as if she’d picked up the torch and was about to strike someone with it, to defend liberty itself.
Nina knew that when the French had shipped the statue over, it had almost ended up in another city instead: in Boston or Philadelphia or even that regional shipping city, New York. Of course, Congress had insisted that it stay right here in the nation’s capital, where it belonged.
“Want to go up?” she asked abruptly.
When Ethan realized where she meant, he groaned. “Right now? Why?”
“Why not?” Nina answered. It was a very Sam sort of reply.
The woman at the ticket office didn’t bother charging them for tickets, since the monument closed within half an hour. “This late, you’ll have it to yourselves,” she said with a wink.
Sure enough, when Ethan and Nina reached the elevator, they ran into several groups of people on their way down, but no one else heading up.
“This is so unbelievably cheesy of you,” Ethan muttered, though he didn’t actually sound displeased.
“That’s me, the queen of all things cheesy and touristy. Get used to it.”
No one else was on the circular viewing platform at the top. It was several degrees cooler up here than it had been at the statue’s base. Nina stepped forward, the wind whipping her hair.
Washington wasn’t a beautiful city, not the way Paris or even London was. It was too messy, having grown through the centuries without much of a central plan. One-way streets tangled and looped over each other in blithe confusion, Revolutionary monuments standing next to clunky new housing developments with rooftop pools.
That was Washington, Nina thought, a city of contradictions: crowded and cruel and thrilling and lovely all at once.
“Behold, my son. Everything the light touches is your kingdom,” Ethan growled behind her, and she burst out laughing.
“Aren’t you glad I made us come?” She spread her hands out. “I bet you haven’t been up here since your fourth-grade field trip!”
“Actually, my mom used to take me up here sometimes. She was always thinking of activities for us to do,” Ethan explained. “Dragging me all over the capital to national landmarks and museums—teaching me history, but also teaching me who I was. As if she needed to make up for whatever sense of identity I was supposed to have gotten from my dad.”
Nina looked over. The moonlight gilded Ethan’s profile, tracing the curve of his upper lip, the straight line of his nose.
“You can tell me about it, if you want.” She reached for his hand. Ethan didn’t answer, but squeezed her fingers. She took that as a sign to keep going.
“I know what it’s like to grow up with a nontraditional family,” she said quietly. “To be the person hiding in the nurse’s office with a fake headache on Bring Your Dad to School Day. To have people look at us like we’re somehow missing a piece. I know what it’s like to grow up knowing that your family is different, and sometimes feeling ashamed that it’s different, and then hating yourself for being ashamed, because you love your family more than anything, even if it doesn’t look like everyone else’s.”
She dared a glance at him. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said all that.”
Probably because there was no one else she could say it to, except maybe Sam. And while Sam would have given her unconditional love, Nina also knew that Sam wouldn’t have understood, not really.
“No, I’m glad you did.” Ethan’s voice was hoarse. “My mom is the best, no question. She’s got more energy than anyone I’ve ever met. But I always worried about her, too. I used to think that it was my fault that my dad left, since…well, my mom is so amazing, so there’s no way he could have left because of her.”
“Ethan, you can’t blame yourself for your dad’s leaving,” Nina whispered, her heart sore.
“Yeah, I know that. But…” He sighed. “I guess it’s one thing to know it, and another thing to actually believe it. To actually feel like it’s not my fault.”
Nina’s hand tightened over his. She realized how rare it was for Ethan to speak with such raw honesty.
“I don’t know who my dad is,” he said clumsily. “The only thing my mom ever says about him was that they loved each other a long time ago, but that he couldn’t be part of my life. She doesn’t seem to resent him for it.”
“I don’t know anything about my biological father either,” Nina admitted. “Except that he was a medical school student who donated sperm for extra money. Oh, and that he didn’t have any family history of disease.”
“You don’t wonder about him?” Ethan asked.
No, Nina was about to lie, but bit it back. “Sometimes, but I try not to. I know who my parents are. That man is just a stranger who helped them find their way to me.”
Ethan’s gaze was fixed on the horizon. “When I was little, I had all these outlandish theories about who my dad might be. I thought he was a superhero, or an astronaut—that he was off saving the world, and would come back for us eventually.” He sighed. “I think I was in middle school when I finally realized that he wasn’t coming.”