Broken Cheaters (15 page)

“No, I understand. But at this point, I feel like I have to see them as soon as possible.”

“Maybe it’s for the best. I mean, you haven’t seen them in a long time, right? It could be too much of a shock if you come home with a boyfriend and his son.”

“You’re right. But I’ll tell them all about you, and next time, we’ll go together.”

“Deal. Now, let me see if I can make up for the time we’ll lose over the weekend.”

I reached for my phone and quickly texted my mom,
I’m coming home tomorrow.
She was probably asleep now, but I was sure I’d get a text as soon as she woke up. My phone dropped to the carpeted floor when Axel dove underneath the covers. I laughed as his mouth tickled its way down my body, right to between my legs, and I was gone.

M
y mother opened
the front door with tears in her eyes. She squeezed me so tightly, all the air was forced out of my lungs, and I couldn’t get a word through my sealed throat. Regret for the years I’d wasted by staying away from home was filling the room, and I felt like I was drowning. With the aim to forget my past and pay for my mistakes, I had failed to see the magnitude with which my actions had torn my family apart. I had chosen not to remember that families stuck together no matter what. Yet the thought that my parents could blame me for Chloe’s death still loomed.

“I’m so happy you’re home. Are you all right? You’re so thin, Patricia. I can feel your bones.” She finally let go and eyed me over, touching my arms and my chin, and trying to pinch the layer of fat that used to be around my mid-section.

“Mom, I’m okay now. Really.”

“You’ve starved yourself.” She covered her mouth with her hand to embellish her astonishment. Although her intuition was correct, and I’d temporarily lost interest in my health, I still had a healthy body weight. My mother just had a knack for over-reacting.

“I didn’t, mom. I just got lost for a while.”

She brought me into her arms again, this time savoring my smell and the essence of who I was. I was beginning to think she’d never let me go.

“You’ve changed.”

Well, it’s been five years.

“Come, your father’s on his way. I didn’t touch your room. It’s just as you left it. And I made all your favorite foods. George! Patricia’s here. Come say hello.”

My parents’ butler stepped out of the kitchen. I ran to him, slamming into his cushioned body as if he were a long lost friend. “I missed you, girl.” He hugged me, although I didn’t think it was possible, even more tightly than my mother.

“I missed you too.”

He looked me over, his brows scrunching, “Have you forgotten how to use a spoon and a fork?”

“No, it’s just… a lot has happened. If you make me your famous tuna salad, I promise to eat it all.”

He looked me over doubtfully.

“Everything’s okay now, or it will be,” I assured him.

“What do you mean, it will be?”

“Nothing. I’m just doing what I should have done a long time ago.”

“Come, Patricia. Let’s get you set up in your room, and then we’ll…”

“… Mom, you know I’m only here for the weekend.”

She shook her head. “Please don’t do this to me again. Don’t leave again.” She was heaving and running out of breath after only a few words. “Both my daughters left, and when I was about to get my first one back, she died. Don’t put me through this again, Patricia. I beg you.”

My mother clasped her hands together as if she were about to begin a prayer.

“Mom, I promise I won’t, but I do have a new life now. One I’d like to have you in again. We won’t lose touch, I promise.” I took her clasped hands into mine. “And there’s someone I’d like you to meet, but he couldn’t be here on such short notice.”

“We have someone very special for you to meet as well.”

“Who?”

She waved her hand, as if the gesture would make me forget what she’d mentioned.

“Come, let’s sit down and catch up.”

We had tea. The five years I’d been gone hadn’t passed without age touching my mother at warp speed. I felt like I’d drawn those lines and blotched her skin on my own, like an artist. And then I smeared it all with my hand, spreading it over her face, like a disease.

New wrinkles, deeper shadows of worry under her eyes, and now a silver head of hair, instead of the few stray strands when I left, were part of her.

When my father walked through the door, I jumped into his arms the same way I had into George’s. For the few hours we spent catching up, it felt like old times. If Chloe were here, she would have loved this reunion.

“Patricia…” My mother took my hand into hers like it was her turn to comfort me. “There’s something you need to know about Chloe.”

Her tone of voice, a hint of nerves and apprehension, made me pause. I thought I’d known my sister very well, and nothing could have surprised me more than the news I was about to receive.

“We never got a chance to tell you. The time was never right, and then you left so suddenly, and we couldn’t just tell you over the phone. Not because you wouldn’t talk to us, but because the subject was so delicate. But mentioning Chloe in any conversation made life feel like it was lost.”

“Mom? Are you feeling okay?” I looked to my father for guidance, but he nodded in approval. My mother wasn’t losing it, the way we thought when she sometimes went on a talking-without-a-period spree.

“You see, Chloe is still with us.”

I did a double-take to my father, whose eyes were swimming in tears. He wasn’t giving me any indication that my mother could have gotten dementia while I was gone.

“What are you talking about?”

“She saved your life. Her heart saved your life.”

“What?”

My father wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. “She was the donor. She was brain-dead. They kept her organs alive for you, and with her family’s consent, our consent, you were the recipient.”

“I have Chloe’s heart?” I choked up. My hand flew to cover my mouth.

“Yes, darling. You do.”

I lowered my hand to my chest, whispering in awe. “She’s here?”

Both my parents nodded. And that’s when it hit me that deep inside I had always known that she was with me. All this time, the connection I’d felt to my sister, her guiding me over the past few years, secretly whispering and advising me in my ear – it was real. My parents’ only hope to have Chloe with them, inside me, had vanished when I disappeared. When I ran away, I realized, I took both their daughters with me.

“I’m so sorry I left.”

“You needed time.”

“No, I ran away when you needed me the most. I shouldn’t have. I… I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry.”

“You two were close, and her passing hit us all hard. But you’re here now. That’s what’s important.”

I was here. And my parents weren’t the only reason I’d chosen to return home. If I was going to make it right by the entire family, it would have to include Chloe.

“Mom, are you still friends with the Powers?”

When we were in college, Jack’s father had been running for re-election to Congress. He was well known in the community and had been in the Senate for over a decade. Unlike other politicians, I remembered him as an honest man, so I wondered whether I could count on his support in what I was about to do.

“Yes, of course. Why are you asking, honey?”

“Did Chloe mention anything before I went to get her at the station?”

“About what?”

“College and Jack Powers.”

“No, nothing. Why are you asking, Patricia?”

“Because there’s something I need to do. For Chloe. And now more than ever, I’m sure it would have been what she wanted.” I touched my hand to my chest, right over the scar from my transplant. I could feel the heat of her life roaring through my skin.

“Anything we can help with?”

“I don’t think so.”

Once settled in, I texted Axel that everything had gone well with my parents, and I told him how much I missed him and Trevor. I set my phone aside and walked back out to the hallway. I stood in front of Chloe’s room for a good fifteen minutes before I gathered the strength to open her door. When I walked in, her scent hit me with a thousand emotions, squeezing fresh tears out of my eyes. I wiped them with the back of my hand, trying to keep myself somewhat in check. My mother was right: the room was just as it was when I left. I lay down on her bed, pulling one of the teddy bears close to my chest, and stared at the ceiling. I wasn’t sure how long I lay there, but time didn’t seem important.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, and closed my eyes, trying to remember the way she looked, wishing I could have one more day with her. There was so much I’d wanted to say to her that day in the car — we just never had enough time. Behind my closed eyelids, I saw her smiling face as she mouthed the words
I’m okay
. My heart beat harder and harder as I pictured Chloe walking around her room.

Is that my imagination or her memory?

She placed items into a box: papers, a notepad, maps, and newspaper clippings. I watched her from a distance, before a silhouette of a blue car drove over her frame and her image behind my eyelids dissipated into colorful fluff floating in the air.

I opened my eyes and shot up. Bracing my hands on the bed, I sat at its edge, waiting, as if by some magic she’d appear right in that spot by her desk once again. Instead, my gaze found the box I’d seen Chloe open and close in my vision. I placed my hand over my heart, her heart, and felt it beat wildly. Wary, I stood up and paced toward the desk. When I opened the box, a new gush of tears fell. I flipped past the postcards my mother had kept, that Chloe had sent home each week and grasped the cut out articles. I picked one out and read the headline: “Congressman’s son charged with DUI.” Then another one: “Rape charges against Congressman’s son dropped.” There were over a dozen of them there, and they were all about Jack.

I then opened a notebook that looked like a diary, and flipped to the last page.

Tomorrow I’m going to see my family. My sister is picking me up at the train station. It’s been two long years of healing, but I’m ready to confront my demons. I’m ready to make right of what’s been wrong, but first I need Patricia’s forgiveness.

Forgiveness for what?

Jack owned up to his mistakes. I told his father about what happened, and he won’t be running for office anytime soon. We’re going to the police this week.

Chloe had been coming back to confront Jack. She’d been planning to go to the police, and he knew about it.

I wish it hadn’t taken two years to forgive myself. But I have. And I’ve gained much more than I expected. My conscience is clear, and my family will soon be complete once again.

Why did she want to forgive herself? I was the one who’d led her to the basement. I was the one who hadn’t stopped Jack, and then I was the one who’d driven the car that killed her.

“Oh, Chloe,” I sighed. “I wish you were here.”

I lowered the journal to the desk and picked up a stack of photos. Many of them were with the two of us, goofing around, but many were also with Jack. My stomach twisted as I realized how much time my sister had spent with him, and he’d still betrayed her. He’d gone behind her back and cheated so many times, I’d lost count. He was as broken as Brad, and Chloe had never been able to fix his ways.

She’d cry on my shoulder, I’d console her, and then she’d go back to him again. It was a never-ending cycle. Perhaps that’s why Jack stopped talking to me the last year of college that they dated. And then that night… I stopped shuffling the photographs when one of them caught my attention. It was Chloe waving out the window of a blue car. I closed my eyes, trying to remember something important about that car, but I couldn’t. Underneath the last photograph was Chloe’s old cell phone. I recognized it, because I used to have an identical one, but mine had a bedazzled
P
on its back and hers had a
C
. I pressed the power button, but the battery was dead.

Hoping she had more pictures there that I hadn’t seen, I pulled open the desk drawer and found the charger. As I plugged the phone, in a gentle knock sounded on the bedroom door, and my mom stepped in.

“Hi, honey. Are you okay here?”

“Yeah, I am.” In all honesty I should have done this long ago. I should have faced my fears and sorrows here, instead of running away. “Where did you get all this? I thought Chloe took everything with her.”

“Chloe’s boyfriend brought back some of her stuff, after the funeral. I put it all in the box.”

“Oh.” I wished I’d been at the funeral to say goodbye. As if reading my thoughts, my mom lifted her hand to my shoulder, saying, “You were very weak, Patricia. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. We couldn’t take the chance of another one of our daughters dying.”

“I never got a chance to say goodbye.”

“I know.”

“Will you come to the cemetery with me?”

Her eyes glossed over. “Of course. Would you like to go now?”

“Actually, I’d love that.”

Moments later, we were driving to the cemetery. On the way, we picked up a bouquet of red roses. As I pulled out of the parking lot in front of the flower shop, I saw a yellow Camaro leave a spot on the street and drive behind me. On a normal day, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but that moment, with me driving and Mom sitting where Chloe sat, brought on a memory I hadn’t had since the accident. That night I’d picked up Chloe from the station, I remembered a blue Camaro following us for a while. I’d assumed we were headed in the same direction. A déjà vu moment flashed in my mind, where I looked in the rear-view mirror and thought that I saw a falling star, nearly blinding me.

“Hold on, Mom.”

I pushed my foot on the brake and stopped in the middle of the road. Wheels screeched behind us as the yellow car tried to stop without bumping into us. He did, and judging by the distance between us, missed us by only a couple of inches.

“Honey, what are you doing?” my mom asked, her panic-stricken face watching me as if madness was taking me over. Yet I hadn’t felt this peaceful in a long time, and deep inside, I knew exactly what I was doing, because I could have sworn that Chloe was leading me.

“I’m not sure. I’m going on instinct here.” I unbuckled my seatbelt, stepped out of the car, and went back. I almost froze when I saw Jack behind the wheel. That annoying disco ball hanging on the rear-view mirror swayed back and forth, reflecting the bright sun on its dashboard.

He rolled down his window, frowning. “What the hell are you doing, Trish?”

I hated the way he mocked my shortened name.

“I… a squirrel jumped in front of the car. I had to brake.”

“A squirrel?”

“Yes, a squirrel.”

He squeezed his hands around the steering wheel. I wondered what the odds were that my sister’s ex-boyfriend would be driving behind me, and they were nearing impossible the more I stood there, shifting my weight from one side to the other.