“I know,” I say, taking a deep, slow breath. “I think I’m your sister.” I back out of Mrs. Ivory’s driveway so I can return July to the church.
July laughs like I told her a joke. “Why you have a big fat belly?” she asks.
“That’s your nephew.”
July laughs again. I watch her in the rearview mirror. She’s beautiful.
“You’re going to be an aunt,” I say, just so I can hear her talk more. She’s really smart, I think. I don’t know very much about these things yet, but for a kid so little it seems like she has a lot of words and she says them pretty well. “What do you think about being an aunt?”
“Ewww!” She wrinkles up her nose. “An ant bited my finger in the sandbox.” She holds up her hand to show me which one. It’s her middle finger and it’s really funny, this pretty little girl in her frilly dress, sitting on the back seat giving me the finger. I try hard not to laugh. I don’t want her to learn bad things. “I squished it,” she shrieks, pinching her fingers together to show me how.
When we get to the church, Irene is standing in the street. The church doors are still closed and no one else is around. It’s just Irene, right in the middle of the road, red faced, crying.
I park in the same spot, get out, and open the door to help July with her seat belt.
“Oh my god!” Irene says, running over, crouching to hug July, lifting her out of the car. “Oh my god! April!” She looks up at me. Her eyes are so puffy. I almost feel bad for her.
“What is wrong with you?” I say. “Leaving her alone with Mrs. Ivory! She doesn’t even know who anyone is anymore.”
“I didn’t!” Irene says, sobbing and hugging July to her chest. “She was with my cousin at the back of the church and then she wasn’t anymore and I don’t— I—” She stops talking and just falls apart. Grabs at July like she’s making sure all her parts are still there. All four limbs, every finger, both ears.
July is shell-shocked. She reaches for her mom’s barrette and tries to pull it out of her hair. Irene just lets her.
“Thank you for bringing her back,” Irene says.
“Yeah,” I say. I turn around to get in my car. I don’t need to talk to Irene. I don’t need to have this conversation.
“I named her after you,” she says. “I mean, sort of. You know, like names that go together.”
“You left me there,” I say.
“I’m sorry, April,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”
“Well, that’s good. That just fixes everything.”
“I had these blinders on,” Irene says. “I wanted a dad for David. I kept thinking that somehow your dad would turn into the man I needed him to be.”
I watch her for a minute, watch tears rolling down her cheeks. “He was really good at not being who anyone needed him to be,” I say.
The doors to the church open and everyone starts the reverse trickle to the parking lot. I don’t want to be their entertainment.
“Take care of July,” I say, and wave to my sister. She waves back with her perfect little hand.
I cross the street to my car and don’t look back. I’ll call Margo from the road to say goodbye. It’s easier that way.
— Chapter 66 —
It’s after midnight when I finally make it to Binghamton. I took every back road and lingered at rest stops, steeling my nerves and searching for words. The walk from my car to Justin’s door feels longer than the whole entire drive. The baby kicks. I have to knock for a long time before anyone answers. I worry he doesn’t even live there anymore, that I won’t be able to find him at all. But I have to try.
Through the window, I see some guy with messy hair and sleepy eyes turn on the porch light. He opens the door and says, “What?” his face freezing when he sees my belly. “I don’t know you,” he says, loud and fast, like he’s reassuring himself, and I realize that I am every college boy’s worst nightmare. That I’m about to be Justin’s.
“Justin,” I say, and it’s all I can say before the guy runs from the door and yells for him. I hear bare feet on the wood floor, harsh whispers. Someone says, “What the fuck?” And then there’s Justin, in his boxer shorts and nothing else. He closes the door behind him and stands out on the porch with me, even though it’s freezing. Even though a few minutes ago he was sleeping soundly with no idea that his child had the hiccups and was kicking my ribcage.