Happenstance (7 page)
The room was quiet when I sat in my seat at the black
table in first period. Everyone was staring at the floor, but when I walked in,
they all glared at me. Then the whispering started. This was all very new, and
I didn’t know what to expect, which was more frightening than life before the
Erins were dead.
For the first time in eighteen and a half years, I was the only
Erin. There was no need for nicknames, and I didn’t have to pretend not to
notice Weston when he walked into the room. But that didn’t change the way
people felt about me. Brady’s eyes twitched, the hateful words he wanted to say
on the tip of his tongue.
The bell rang, but Mrs. Merit didn’t speak. Instead, a crackling
came over the speakers, and Principal Bringham came over the PA system.
“Good morning, students. As you all know, we lost two very bright
students over Spring Break, Erin Alderman and Erin Masterson. We’re going to
observe two minutes of silence today, for you to pray for their friends and
family if you would like, or, if not, a moment of silent reflection.”
The PA fell silent, and we all sat, staring at the floor. I was
not the only person the Erins had relentlessly picked on, and certainly not the
only one feeling a sense of relief more than a sense of loss. But, wherever
they were, I hoped they were free of whatever plagued them to make others
miserable, so they could feel better about themselves.
“Thank you,” Principal Bringham said, and then the PA system shut
off.
“I was asked to instruct all of you that if you need to speak to anyone
about what happened to Sonny and Alder there are counselors here all week to
help you understand and process your feelings. Now, please open your text books
to page one eighty-eight.”
Throughout the day, I noticed that the student body was mostly quiet.
Occasionally one of the cheerleaders could be heard making a scene near their
lockers. After Chrissy wailed after second period, they all seemed to try to
outdo one another’s outbursts of hysteria. Brady was sandwiched between two
empty chairs in Health class, and although I caught him glaring at Weston and
me several times, he didn’t say anything.
In Art class, Mrs. Cup called Weston to her desk, and they had a
long, quiet conversation. It seemed like it ended well, but it ran so close to
the end of the hour, that she was barely able to brief us on our last project:
adding to the Blackwell mural downtown. The former Art teacher, Mrs. Boyer
began the tradition, and Mrs. Cup continued it after Mrs. Boyer retired. We
added our own tiny pieces, but mostly we filled in bits of brick that had
broken off, or painted what had worn away over the last year.
“Be prepared,” Mrs. Cup said. “We’ll be going to the mural site
tomorrow. Be sure to bring your things with you, so you don’t have to come back
to the building. You can leave straight from the mural at 3:30.”
Weston sat in his stool at my desk.
“Is she still going to fail you?” I whispered.
He shook his head and tried not to smile.
Two girls stood in Mrs. Cup’s open doorway. “Mrs. Cup, Mr.
Bringham needs to see Erin Easter.”
“All right,” Mrs. Cup said, gesturing for me to gather my things.
“He said he needed for her to come right away,” one of the girls
added.
I gathered my things, and Weston touched my arm. “Do you want me
to come with you?”
“I’ll be okay.”
He frowned. “I want to come with you.”
I grinned. “You worry too much. You don’t have to protect me,
Weston.”
“Says who?” he said, only half joking. “I’ll wait for you in the
front.”
I shook my head. “You’ll be late for practice. Go ahead.”
He watched me as I stuffed a few things in my backpack. I
followed the girls down the hall. We passed the set of lockers that stood alone
in the middle of the commons area and then turned left toward the office. Just
a few weeks before, I’d gone down this way, soaking wet. Now life seemed
completely different, and it felt like it was about to change more.
I walked into the office, where Kay Rains stood, along with a
police officer, Principal Bringham, and the counselor, Mrs. Rodgers. A few
students and teachers idled about or sat in a row of chairs beside the door,
waiting for something. Maybe for me, and whatever was about to happen.
“Why don’t we step into my office?” Principal Bringham said. “I
think that would be best.”
Our small group followed him, and Kay asked me to sit with her in
one of the two chairs in front of the principal’s desk. Mr. Bringham sat down
and clasped his hands in front of him.
“Erin, I understand you’ve taken a blood test. Do you understand
why?”
I nodded.
“I don’t want you to be nervous. I know there are a lot of people
in here, but it’s just a formality. Ms. Rains has the test results, and she’s
come here to explain them to you.”
“With a police officer?” I asked.
Kay chuckled. “I know. It’s awful. But we felt it was best since
we’re on school grounds and the potential for emotions to run high . . . it
seems like a bit much to me as well. But because you’re eighteen, and Ms.
Easter requested we inform you at school should the results come back a certain
way, we’ve come here.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but can we get to the point? I’m going
to be late for work.”
Kay blinked. “Of course, I’m sorry.” She shifted in her seat. “Erin,
according to the test results on all three of you girls, we’ve come to the
conclusion that there was a mistake at the hospital the day you were born. It
appears that the late Miss Alderman was given to the Aldermans, and you were
given to Ms. Easter . . . by mistake.”
Mrs. Rodgers side stepped, making eye contact with me. “What
she’s trying to say, Erin, is that you are Sam and Julianne Alderman’s
biological daughter. Now, you’re eighteen, so I’m not sure what this means to
you, but the Aldermans have been informed, and they would very much like to
speak with you as soon as you’re ready.”
“They know?”
Mrs. Rodgers nodded and smiled. “And they’re eager to talk to you
about it, if that’s all right. They know this is a huge shock for you, and they
want to give you as much space as you need to think this over.”
“Where’s Gina?” I asked.
Kay looked to Mrs. Rodgers, then to me. “She opted out of the
meeting. She has been made aware, as well.”
I thought for a moment, while everyone in the room waited for my
reaction. I looked at Mr. Bringham from under my brow. “Am I free to go?”
“Of course. This must be very upsetting for you. Mrs. Rodgers and
I are available to talk when you’re ready.”
Mrs. Rodgers knelt next to my chair. “If you have any questions,
legal or otherwise, I would be happy to help you, Erin. Please don’t hesitate.”
I stood up and took my backpack with me. “Thank you. I appreciate
it, but I have to go to work now.”
The police officer moved to the side and opened the door, and I
walked out, trying to ignore the dozen or so pairs of eyes staring at me. I
pushed through the side door of the building, to find Weston’s truck sitting
under the overhang in the half-circle drive in front of the school.
I walked past him, but he jumped out and jogged after me. “What
did they say?” When I didn’t respond or stop, Weston stood in front of me.
I blinked.
“Erin. What did they say to you?”
“That Gina Easter isn’t my mother, and Julianne Alderman is.”
Weston stood up straight and looked over my head, lost in
thought. “Whoa.” He looked back down at me. “Are you okay?”
“I need to walk.”
“Sure you don’t want me to drive you? Let me drive you.”
I took a deep breath. “I haven’t walked in a while, and right now
I just really, really need to walk.”
Weston nodded, and I walked around him, concentrating on putting
one foot in front of the other until my feet hit the familiar asphalt in front
of the Dairy Queen. I yanked open the door and slipped on my apron, tying it
quickly as I made my way to the front.
Frankie was taking a bite from her own concoction, leaning
against the counter. “I thought maybe you weren’t coming in today.”
“Sorry. I had a meeting.”
“With Weston?”
“No,” I said, frowning.
“He was about ten feet behind you when you came into view,
driving about one mile per hour, and then he turned into the ball fields and
ran in to practice. Did you dump him?”
“We’re not . . . together . . . really.”
“So you dumped him?”
“No.”
“What kind of meeting?”
“With the principal and the counselor and some lady from DHS.”
“Why?”
“I’m not really sure why she was there. They don’t really know
what to do.”
“About what?”
“When, uh . . . Alder died . . . they did some tests, and they
came back weird. So they did some tests on Sonny. Those were fine. So they
asked me for a blood sample.”
“I’m completely confused, but I think you’re going to make sense
any minute,” Frankie said, shoveling the spoon of Whatever Blizzard into her
mouth.
“So, they tell me today after school that Gina’s not my mom.”
“What?” Frankie said, standing up, her mouth still full of ice
cream.
“And Gina’s not even there. I mean . . . they said they told her,
so she knows, but she wanted them to tell me at school. She didn’t come to be
there when they told me. So I don’t know if I’m supposed to go get my stuff, or
if I have a place to live, or . . .”
Frankie pulled me into her chest and wrapped her arms around me,
and it was then that I realized I was sobbing.
“Baby girl,” she said, rocking me ever so slightly from side to
side. She pulled away and held my cheeks in her hands. “What are you doing
here? You can’t work like this.”
“I don’t have anywhere else to go!”
Frankie held me again, making soothing hush sounds like most
mothers did. Except for mothers like Gina, who probably wasn’t sure what she
was more indifferent about—knowing she raised someone else’s child, or that her
biological child was dead.
The road was quiet, and not many people must have felt like ice
cream, because we had only two customers by the time baseball practice let out,
and Frankie waited on them both.
“He’s going to drive straight over here. I bet he’s been so
distracted and dying to see you he could barely stand it,” Frankie said.
I chewed my thumbnail, staring at the red Chevy parked across the
street. “No way. Not after the way I treated him.”
“Honey, if he can’t understand that you had just gotten the shock
of your life, then he doesn’t deserve to see you.”
The driver’s side door of the Chevy opened and shut. The truck
quickly backed out, paused for less than a second, and then surged across the
street, not stopping until it was behind the Dairy Queen. I rushed to the back
door, but Weston had already opened it.
I practically lunged for him, and he caught me, letting me
squeeze the life out of him without complaint. He made the same soothing sounds
Frankie was before and I cried again.
Frankie stood in the doorway, staring at me like I was dying. “Take
that girl home, Weston.”
“I don’t . . . have a home,” I said, bawling.
“I’m taking you home with me,” Weston said. He placed me on my
feet just long enough to lift me into his arms and carry me to the passenger
side of his pickup. Frankie opened the door for him, and he set me in the seat
and closed the door. Frankie’s muffled voice buzzed and then paused as Weston
spoke. After they hugged, he jogged around to the driver’s side.
He held my hand firmly in his as we drove to his house, and again
as we walked inside. He led me straight to the lower level and watched me as I
sat on the couch.
“I’m going to run upstairs and grab some drinks and . . . what
are you hungry for?”
“I’m not, really.”
Weston sighed and nodded. “No, I imagine not.” He pushed a button
on the remote and started the last movie on the list, then hurried back up the
stairs. I was glad he turned on the television before he went and didn’t leave
me alone with my thoughts.
Less than two minutes later, Weston was sitting next to me, placing
the various boxes and packages he’d brought with him on the coffee table,
including tissues. Then he twisted the cap on a bottle of Fanta, handing it to
me.
“I figured you probably didn’t need the caffeine.”
My hand shook as I held the bottle to my lips and took a sip.
Weston took the bottle from me and set it on the coffee table. When he settled
back to the couch, I leaned against him, letting myself sink into his arms.
He touched his lips to my temple. “Tell me what to do, Erin. Tell
me how to make you feel better,” he whispered.
“This,” I replied. “Just this.”
At five thirty, the garage door hummed above us. We
could hear the door open and close, and other sounds that signaled both of his
parents were home. Before long, the door at the top of the stairs opened, and
two sets of footsteps descended the stairs.
Weston didn’t move, and neither did I. Peter and Veronica each
sat in one of two recliners on each side of the coffee table. Peter rested his
elbows on his knees and clasped his hands, reminding me of the principal right
before he told me the news.
“We heard,” Peter said, his voice low and calm.
Veronica leaned forward, pure sympathy in her eyes. “Peter and I
have been discussing this since we heard, and when you’re ready, we’d like to
offer you some legal advice. However, we’ve also spoken to Sam and Julianne
Alderman, and they’re hoping to speak with you at your earliest convenience.”
“Like when?” I asked. I was lying against Weston and probably
looked like an ill-mannered sloth, but I was emotionally and physically tapped.
“They live right around the corner from us,” Peter said. “They’re
waiting at their home, now. They just want to make sure you’re okay. It doesn’t
have to be tonight.”
A door slammed upstairs and footsteps stomped all over the
kitchen. “Veronica?” A female voice called. She sounded desperate.
Peter ran up the stairs. A calm disagreement ensued, and then
several people came down to Weston’s space, where no one was supposed to be
bothering us. Weston and I both stood when we saw Sam and Julianne standing at
the bottom of the stairs.
Peter was breathing hard. “Julianne, I don’t think this is a good
idea,” he warned.
Julianne’s eyes were bright red. She began to walk over to me,
but her husband stopped her.
“Julianne!”
Julianne held her hands in front of her chest. “I’m so sorry. I
know you’ve had an upsetting day. I just . . . I’ve had one, too. An upsetting
week, actually, and I . . .” a tear escaped her eye and fell down her cheek. “I
heard that you didn’t have a lot of support at the school when you were told
the news, and I . . . just needed to make sure that you’re okay. That’s all I
wanted to do.”
I took a few steps until I was a couple of
feet away from them: my parents. They were gawking at me like a precious gem.
Sam held on to Julianne’s shoulders, and she nearly leaned forward
.
She held out her hands, and then made them into fists, clearly
fighting with what she wanted and what she should do. Her voice broke when she
spoke. “Would it be okay if I . . . I would just like to hug you, if that’s
okay. I don’t want to upset you.”
Everyone watched me for my response.
Almost too subtly for anyone to see, I nodded once, and Julianne
reached for me, pulling me against her chest. Her body shook as she sobbed.
“Julianne, honey,” Sam begged. “Please don’t scare her.”
I looked up at him from her shoulder. “It’s okay. She can cry.”
Sam’s lips trembled, and he reached out, hesitant and nervous,
and touched my shoulder. Tears streamed down his cheeks as well, and the
corners of his mouth curled up as he watched his wife hold me while she cried.
An hour later, we were all upstairs, sitting at the table around
a half-eaten cheese and cracker tray, an empty bottle of wine, and a two-liter bottle
of Fanta Orange, minus two glasses poured. Peter and Veronica talked about
their ski vacation, and how Peter’s skiing skills weren’t quite as advanced as
he thought.
It felt good to laugh, to listen to Sam and Julianne talk, and to
get to know them better. I couldn’t stop staring at them. Veronica was right; I
did have Julianne’s eyes. And for the first time, I associated myself with
beauty, because I always thought that Julianne Alderman was beautiful, inside
and out. The bottom half of my face was from Sam. I had the same thin top lip
with the M-shape in the center, and the full bottom lip. I also had his chin. I
wondered if they thought the same things about me, or if anyone had ever
thought these things about me.
Julianne reached across the table and held my hands. “You must
think I’m a horrible mother, for not knowing. I’m a PA for goodness sake. But I
told them, when they didn’t bring you back to me after your bath, that they had
brought back the wrong baby. I knew, but they said I was just tired. Then they
said it was the hormones. And through the years, other mothers said they had the
same fears because of the stories you hear.”
“Julianne, I think it’s time we let Erin rest. She has school
tomorrow.”
Julianne held her hand to her chest, fumbling with the buttons on
her silk blouse; then she began to tremble. “I . . . I don’t know if she . . .
do you want to . . .?”
“Why doesn’t she stay here for the night?” Veronica said. “After
she calls Ms. Easter and lets her know where she is?”
“We don’t have a phone,” I said. “And she doesn’t really . . . I
don’t think she’s expecting me.”
That seemed to upset Julianne.
“We have some of Whitney’s clothes still here. You’re welcome to
them,” Veronica said.
“Do you want to stay here?” Julianne asked.
“I would appreciate that,” I said, feeling emotional again.
Sam stood and encouraged Julianne to stand with him. She clearly
didn’t want to leave, but he encouraged her until she finally yielded, but not
without giving me another hug.
When the door closed, Weston, Veronica, Peter, and I stood in the
front room, looking at each other.
“Erin, you can stay in Whitney’s old room. This is a bit . . .
unorthodox, but I think it’s in your best interest until Sam and Julianne and
you decide where to go from here. From a legal standpoint, this is all a little
fuzzy since you’re no longer a minor. Don’t worry. You’re Sam and Julianne’s
daughter. Whatever you decide, they’re going to make sure you’re well taken
care of. Weston, show her to her room. Let her rest. She’s had a long day.”
Weston nodded and led me up the stairs by the hand. Whitney’s
room was on the opposite end of the hall from Weston’s. She had her own
enormous bathroom, with a tub and shower and a linen cabinet that spanned from
floor to ceiling, full of big, fluffy towels. Weston checked to make sure there
was soap and shampoo.
“We can pick up anything else you need from Gina’s tomorrow, if
you want.”
I dipped my head in agreement.
He led me back into the bedroom, and pulled back the comforter. “Clean
sheets.” He opened the closet. “Clothes and lots of ’em.” He pulled open a
dresser drawer. “Night gowns and pajama sets. Some of them silk, because
Whitney’s a huge diva. Just leave your laundry in that hamper and Lila will
launder them in the morning when she gets here. I’m pretty sure Whitney still
has makeup and ponytail holders and stuff in the drawers by the sink.”
“She does,” Veronica said, breezing through the door. She handed
me a new toothbrush, a full tube of toothpaste, and a brand new stick of
deodorant. “Peter is always saying I overstock. You have won a twenty-year-long
argument for me tonight, little miss.”
“I wish I could think of a way to say thank you. I’m sorry I …”
“Nonsense,” Veronica said, holding the knob while she hovered in
the doorway. “We’re going to get this all worked out. You try to rest. See you
in the morning. Wes?”
Weston leaned over and gave me a peck, and then followed his
mother out. I walked into the spacious, sparkling white bathroom and undressed
in front of the mirror. I took a long, hot shower, trying every brand name
shampoo, conditioning treatment, and foaming face wash I could get my hands on.
By the time I stepped out, I smelled like a salon, and my skin shone like the
marble tile. I felt like Julia Roberts’s character in
Pretty Woman
.
I wrapped myself in one of the fluffy towels and combed out my
hair, noticing how close it was to Julianne’s color. I found a nightgown and
slipped it over my head, then climbed into the queen-sized bed. The springs
didn’t squeak when I laid on it. I wasn’t even sure Whitney’s bed had springs.
It felt like one big foam-filled cushion. I rested my head on the pillow, stretching
my legs as far as they would go. They didn’t even come close to the end of the
bed. My body sank down into the mattress, and the plush comforter cradled me in
softness.
I turned on my side and leaned over, switching off the lamp.
Before I could settle back under the blankets, the door opened, and Weston
crept inside.
“Are you sleeping?” he whispered.
“No.”
He knelt beside the bed. “Are you comfortable?”
“More than I’ve ever been.”
“Do you need anything else before I hit the sack?”
I shook my head.
“I don’t know if I can sleep knowing you’re right down the hall.”
I smiled. “Try.”
He chuckled and leaned down, giving me a better kiss than he could
when his mother was still around. He walked to the door and turned around. “You’re
going to be okay. This is just one more thing we’ll get through together.”
“I know.” It should have been scarier, being eighteen and finding
out that the woman who raised me wasn’t my mother. But at the moment, I felt
like I had a small army in my corner.
~*~
The next morning when I walked into school, it was like
I was walking into a different dimension. Everyone stared at me like before,
but now it was out of curiosity. In first period, Brady glanced over at me a
few times, but the disgust was gone from his eyes. Even the teachers looked at
me differently. It was like I left the day before as one person, and came back
as someone else.
No one, not even Brady, called me Easter. If they addressed me,
they called me Erin. For the first time in nine years, no one said a single
negative word to me or even shot me a dirty look. I still expected it, waiting
for someone, anyone to taunt me, but it never happened; not once all day. The
rest of the week went that way, too, and by Friday, the tension I felt every
time I walked into a classroom was gone, and I no longer waited for someone to
throw insults or wads of paper at me. My thoughts were consumed by Weston, and
Sam and Julianne. They had come over every night that week for dinner, and were
coming over for dinner again after I left work Saturday evening. I couldn’t
pinpoint why, but this time it felt important.
On Saturday, Weston gave me a ride to work, and then drove across
the street to warm up at the ball fields. He had a home game in a few hours
that I wasn’t happy about missing, but thankfully the scoreboard was visible
over the wall. I tied the apron strings behind my back, and walked to the
front, greeting Frankie with a smile.
“I thought you had a closet full of designer clothes to choose
from,” Frankie said.
“I don’t want to wear that stuff to work. I don’t want to ruin
it.” Lila had been washing and drying one of my two pairs of jeans every
evening before she left for the day so I could pack them in my book bag and
change into them for work. A lot of Whitney’s clothes were very feminine and
very expensive. Her shoes were a half size too big, but I didn’t complain. This
was the first time I’d worn brand name anything, much less designer clothes,
but at work, I wore my worn, secondhand jeans and shirts.
We were slow for a Saturday, and Frankie and I passed the time discussing
her kids, but mostly we talked about my new living arrangements, and what my
life was like now. She grinned at me a lot when I talked, and I know that she
was happy for me, but there was a sadness in her eyes that I couldn’t quite
decipher.
“Are you happy?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I think so. More than I have been before.”
Her eyes softened. “Good. Did you get the rest of your things
from Gina?”
“We stopped by Gina’s on Tuesday. I wasn’t sure about just
walking in, so I knocked. She didn’t answer, so I walked in.”
“Did you get everything you needed?”
I nodded. I didn’t mention to Frankie that Soul Asylum was
playing loudly when I walked in, so I rushed through my room and the bathroom,
grabbing anything I thought I’d need—my other pair of jeans, my toothbrush, a
razor, the little bit of makeup that I owned, underwear, bras, and a sketch
pad. I left behind everything else.
“What did Gina have to say to you? Anything?”
I looked over at the score board. The game had just started.
“Why don’t you go over there and watch him? We’re not busy.”
“I need the hours.”
Frankie winked. “No you don’t. You’re an Alderman now. They’re
going to take care of you, Erin. You can finally be a teenager for once.”
I thought about that for a moment then smiled. Tossing my apron
on the hook, I jogged across the street and walked into the stadium. I’d never
been to a baseball game before. Not many people were sitting in the bleachers
besides a handful of students and the families of the players.
“Erin!” Weston was standing on the other side of the fence in his
uniform and ball cap, his shaggy brown hair sticking out the bottom. He slipped
his fingers through the wires of the fence, beaming.
I approached the fence. “Frankie let me off to watch your game.”
“I’m going to have to step it up a notch then.” He winked and
jogged back to the dugout.
I spent my Saturday afternoon sitting on the bleachers, baking in
the direct sun. It felt glorious. Weston made it to third base once, and the
next time hit a home run. He played first base and got three players on the
opposite team out. Once he even caught the ball right as it careened off the
bat. The popping sound the ball made when it hit Weston’s glove made my hand
hurt, but he was all smiles, and they all ran in off the field.
When they got their things together and listened to the coach
speak, Weston made his way up to the bleachers and gave me a peck, sitting next
to me. It was the first time he’d kissed me in public, and I didn’t miss the
stares it garnered.
