Page 64 of I Can't Even

Em stared at me and blinked repeatedly. “I’ve never thought of it that way before.”

“Most pleasers don’t,” I said.

“Why didn’t you tell us this?” Soph appeared hurt by this revelation. “We would have helped you stand up to Mom. We would have gotten you out of here.”

Em heaved a sigh. “Because a part of me wanted to remain her little girl. It was so easy to never have to make any hard decisions, well, any decisions at all, really. Plus, there was John, Mr. Drake, I didn’t want to leave him.” Her cheeks flared with color.

“I knew it.” I pointed at her. “You are in love with him.”

“Desperately.” Em sniffed. Her face crumbled and she began to cry. We all did at that bombshell. There was no happy ending for our sister in this scenario.

Soph made more tea and we settled in to discuss our complicated feelings about Babs. Soph was just as conflicted as the two of us with the added burden of being older, having screwed up bigger by getting pregnant in college, and having Babs feel as if she could weigh in on Sophie’s life whenever she wanted because it was her money Soph and Stan had begun their lives with. The money Babs would have spent on Soph’s college went to their first house instead.

“I feel as if I have been apologizing for seventeen years,” Soph said. “I’m sorry I got pregnant. I’m sorry I didn’t finish college. I’m sorry I wasn’t the perfect daughter you envisioned.” Her eyes exuded sadness and she tucked her mom bob behind her ears. “I am so sick and tired of apologizing. And honestly, I’m not sorry. Mothering Harry and Hannah has been the happiest experience of my life and I’ll never regret them. Not ever.”

“You never have to apologize to us,” I said. “We love those stinkers.”

“Completely,” Em agreed. “And the twins are so lucky to have such an amazing mom.”

A sob burst out of Soph. “Thank you. They are the only reason,” she paused, and I knew she was rethinking what she was going to say. “They are my greatest joy.”

She didn’t fool me. I didn’t call her on it, because I suspected she wasn’t ready to talk about it, but I was certain she was going to say they were the only reason she stayed in that craptastic marriage to Stan.

“What about you, Jules?” Em asked. “How are you doing?”

“Processing,” I said. “I think I’m still trying to grasp it all.”

“Are you...” Em hesitated and then as if the tequila was still in charge, she met my gaze and asked directly, “Are you going to search for your birth mother?”

My sisters both looked at me. I didn’t admit that I had already done an online search. I’d found several matches for Lisa Michaels, but I hadn’t been able to force myself to go any deeper with it. I figured I should probably hire a professional. Not knowing what one would cost, it occurred to me I might want to wait until I received my inheritance.

“Not now,” I said. “I feel like I need to come to terms with all of it first.”

“Does it help, knowing about her?” Soph asked.

“You mean, is it easier knowing that Babs didn’t hate me so much as she hated Dad’s cheating on her?” I asked. Soph nodded. “Yeah, it helps.” A tear slid from my eye and down my cheek. I brushed it away. “I just wish she had told me, you know, then maybe we could have had something different.”

Soph didn’t say anything. She simply put her arm around me. Em reached over from the couch and grabbed my hand, giving my fingers a squeeze. “I’m glad Dad did it.”

I swung my gaze to her. “Why?”

“You wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t cheated, and I can’t bear the thought of my life without you in it, so I’m sorry for Mom, but I’m glad Dad had you.”

I didn’t know what to make of that, except it made the gaping hole in my chest close just a bit. She was right. I was here because of my father’s affair, and I wouldn’t change me either.

“Em’s right.” Soph ran a hand over my crazy curls. “You are perfect exactly as you are, and I can’t believe I’m saying this as a married woman, but I’m glad he did it, too.”

More healing. Was this what healed emotional scars? Not I’m sorry’s or it’s not your faults, instead what healed was I see you and I love you exactly as you are. Acceptance. My god, I loved my sisters, not half-sisters, never half. Just sisters.

“Do you know what my favorite childhood memories are?” Em asked after a bit.

“No,” Soph and I answered together.

“When Mom would get a migraine and have to stay in bed all day,” Em said. “That was the only time we were allowed to order pizza and we’d watch movies and paint our nails and play dress up all night long. I loved it.”

“Me, too.” I could see nine-year-old Em, wearing eighteen-year-old Soph’s high heels and tripping around the room, dancing to Avril Lavigne’s My Happy Ending while trying to look sophisticated, while I painted my toe nails an unrepentant black that would make Babs gnash her teeth when she saw them.

“Me three,” Soph said. “I missed you two so much when I left.”

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