Lucy simply stared at her while her brain tried to process what she was hearing. “I’m sorry. I can’t wrap my mind around all this.”
“Really? I thought you left because you’d figured it all out. Another thing I learned in therapy?” Angie said. “The kids in dysfunctional families who act out and rebel are the ones who are the healthiest mentally. They’re the ones who see that something’s wrong. That’s why they act out—because they see the house is burning down, and they’re screaming for help. That was you. The rest of us were just sitting at the kitchen table, eating dinner, while everything was burning down around us. I should have listened to you. I should have screamed for help too.”
Warily, Lucy listened while Angie shared her side of the story, haltingly at first, but then it all seemed to come out in a rush, like a dam breaking at last…
Angie spent half her childhood sitting at her window, watching other kids playing in the streets, going trick-or-treating, riding bikes, sitting in their backyards reading or running around or climbing trees. She hated other kids, but it was jealousy and nothing else. She knew that now. And yes, she’d really been sick. That had all been real, but there was no need to send Lucy away, except it made her parents seem like bigger heroes to the world, that their oldest child was so ill they had to focus 100 percent on getting her better. Oh, and what a sacrifice to give up their youngest daughter. What heartbreak! What heroism! It made Angie want to puke.
Then, finally, Angie was better. Stronger, healthier…Angie figured out fast that when she wasn’t sick, her parents lost all interest in her. She started to fake illness, to fake a fever, to pretend to be sick. It played right into her parents’ hands. Then it started all over again. The therapist appointments. The martyrdom of Mom and Dad.
“Except it didn’t work out how they wanted,” Angie said, her face triumphant. “My therapist saw what was going on. I wasn’t the screwed-up one in the family. Mom and Dad were. And I was done playing along.”
“Done? What do you mean?” Lucy asked.
“I haven’t seen Mom and Dad in years,” Angie said with a note of pride in her voice, the satisfaction of a woman who’d escaped from prison. Lucy’s mouth was too dry to speak. She had never been so stunned in her life.
“I can’t stand being around them,” Angie continued. “Now that I’m better, they don’t have much use for me either. They’ve adopted two kids from Eastern Europe. Mom’s got a blog about everything she does for them. Don’t read it. The comments about what a hero Mom is will make you throw your phone out the window.”
Lucy could only shake her head. Her parents? Heroes? They never even called her on her birthday.
“The thing is,” Angie said into the silence, “of all the things I’m angriest at them about…it’s you. It’s losing my sister that hurts the worst. I remember…” She smiled, as if remembering something beautiful. “Mom and Dad lost their shit when you ran away to live here. They thought you would get them arrested for child neglect or something. That’s all they cared about. Not you, just their reputations. But I thought you were amazing. Absolutely amazing. I’d never read the books, but I read a couple of them after that, even wrote Jack Masterson a letter, telling him I was your sister. He wrote me back and told me what an incredible girl you were, how lucky I was to have such a smart and brave sister. He tried to get me to apologize to you for what I said, but I just couldn’t do it. Every time I wrote him, he’d write back and tell me to talk to you. Eventually I stopped writing him. I felt too guilty. Then he set up this contest, and you were part of it. And I got a phone call from Jack Masterson, and now I’m part of it too. So…here I am. And I’m sorry. Again. Always.”
“I’ve been waiting my whole life for you to tell me you were sorry.”
“You don’t have to wait anymore. I’m sorry, Lucy. I was scared of losing Mom and Dad’s love. I already felt myself losing it the healthier I got. And I was scared you would take the attention away from me. I was healthy then, and you were, too, and if we were playing by the same rules, you know…” Angie looked up, looked away, then finally looked at Lucy. “…you’d win.”
Lucy laughed in shock. “Win? Win what?”
“Life.” Angie shrugged. “You’d win life. Because of Mom and Dad treating me like a Fabergé egg…I didn’t even know how to make tea. I…I didn’t even know if I liked tea.”
“I didn’t know if I liked tea either,” Lucy said, because she had to say something. “Jack made me tea with tons of sugar. It was pretty great.”
“You call the most famous kids’ writer in the world by his first name. He made you tea with sugar. The police hauled you off his private island.” Angie held out her hands to Lucy. “You won life. And I didn’t even come in second.”
Something happened inside of Lucy’s heart. The wall around it began to crumble and fall.
“They wouldn’t even let me have a cat when I was little,” Angie said. “And it was the only thing I wanted. One cat. I have two now,” she said and smiled. “Vince Purraldi and Billie Pawliday.”
“You stole those names from Jack’s books.”
“He said he approves of that sort of theft.” She leaned forward. “Oh, Lucy, you have no idea how many times I wanted to call you over the years and tell you all of this, but I kept talking myself out of it. I was just a coward. I’m still a coward. Jack had to talk me into coming here to see you.”
“I thought about calling you too. But only because I needed money.”
“I would have given it to you. Still need it? I’ve got it.”
“No. I mean, yes, I still need it, but I don’t want you to give it to me.”
“Well, if you change your mind.” Angie gave her a fragile smile. “Is there anything else I could give you? I promise, if you want more horror stories about Mom and Dad, I’ve got them.”
“Are you ever scared that if you have kids, you’re going to screw them up like Mom and Dad screwed us up?”
“Oh yeah. All the time. I’ve only had two boyfriends, and one was a total narcissist—”
“Been there.”
“But the other was so nice I didn’t…” She shook her head. “He deserved better. But not you.”
“Not me what?”
“I’m not worried about you having kids. You’d be a great mom. You know kids deserve to be loved. You knew you deserved to be loved, and you tried to tell us all that, and we just didn’t listen.”
Lucy wanted to say something. She wasn’t sure what, but maybe something like, Thank you for telling me all this.
But then Jack rapped his knuckles gently on the library door and peeked his head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but the ferry’s coming, Miss Angie. If you’re ready.”
Angie smiled at him, then at Lucy. “Don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
She stood and walked to the door. Lucy said, “I can walk you to the dock.”