Revelations
Now
I called Kayla. She answered on the second ring.
"Nina? Thank God. I didn't think you'd want to talk to me." She sounded panicked, which had me more worried than her text.
"What happened?" I asked.
A few minute of silence, then: "It's Mom. She's in the hospital. I called you from her phone, but I knew you wouldn't pick up. So I texted."
"What is she there for?"
"It's not what you think—Nina, she's in the psychiatric ward."
"She what? Kayla, what the hell is going on?"
"Can we meet? I know it's been a while, but—"
"Where?"
"There's a small cafe where Mom and I—where we go. It's called Alpena."
I nodded. I knew where it was. I told her I'd meet her there in an hour, then hung up. I'd shut my eyes, took a breath, and texted Isaac.
K texted and wants to meet. Mom's not well.
He replied immediately: I'll be there soon.
Fifteen minutes later, Isaac stood at my front door with coffee and doughnuts. He entered and brushed his lips across mine in greeting.
"Do you want me to go with you to meet her?" he asked.
I was grateful that he knew me so well. That despite everything, he knew I would have gone to see them, no matter what.
They were still my family.
Kayla's fingers wrapped around the mug in front of her when she saw me. She tensed, and her eyes cut to Isaac briefly before she stood.
"Nina." Her voice was soft. She pulled her dark hair over her right shoulder—something she had done so many times before. "How have you been?"
Before I could answer, thankfully, Isaac put his hand out.
"I'm Isaac. We haven't been introduced."
They shook hands, my sister eyeing me with a small smirk. He's cute, she mouthed.
"I'm Kayla," she replied, smiling. "It's nice to meet you."
"K," I said, glancing at her. "Tell me about Mom. Please. That's why we're here. I need to know."
Kayla frowned, seeming to forget why we were here. She turned and led us to her table. She sat down and reached out for my hand. I let her take it. She squeezed my fingers.
"A few months ago, Mom said that she didn't think you killed Dad."
My whole body froze. "What are you talking about? She was convinced, that's why she took you away from me. She didn't want to be anywhere near me. I killed her husband—our father—she had every right to leave."
"But you didn't, you said so yourself. You kept telling me that you didn't," Kayla said.
"I wished it," I whispered. "And then he was gone. You said it yourself that night. Don't you remember?"
Isaac's voice cut through the argument. "How many times have kids wished their parents died or disappeared? Has it ever happened? Nina, this wasn't your fault. Wishing can't make things happen."
I shut my eyes, the tears stinging them.
I opened them and looked at my sister; she was pale and visibly upset.
"Take me to her," I said. "Take me to the hospital. I want to talk to Mom."
"Nina? Thank God. I didn't think you'd want to talk to me." She sounded panicked, which had me more worried than her text.
"What happened?" I asked.
A few minute of silence, then: "It's Mom. She's in the hospital. I called you from her phone, but I knew you wouldn't pick up. So I texted."
"What is she there for?"
"It's not what you think—Nina, she's in the psychiatric ward."
"She what? Kayla, what the hell is going on?"
"Can we meet? I know it's been a while, but—"
"Where?"
"There's a small cafe where Mom and I—where we go. It's called Alpena."
I nodded. I knew where it was. I told her I'd meet her there in an hour, then hung up. I'd shut my eyes, took a breath, and texted Isaac.
K texted and wants to meet. Mom's not well.
He replied immediately: I'll be there soon.
**
Fifteen minutes later, Isaac stood at my front door with coffee and doughnuts. He entered and brushed his lips across mine in greeting.
"Do you want me to go with you to meet her?" he asked.
I was grateful that he knew me so well. That despite everything, he knew I would have gone to see them, no matter what.
They were still my family.
**
Kayla's fingers wrapped around the mug in front of her when she saw me. She tensed, and her eyes cut to Isaac briefly before she stood.
"Nina." Her voice was soft. She pulled her dark hair over her right shoulder—something she had done so many times before. "How have you been?"
Before I could answer, thankfully, Isaac put his hand out.
"I'm Isaac. We haven't been introduced."
They shook hands, my sister eyeing me with a small smirk. He's cute, she mouthed.
"I'm Kayla," she replied, smiling. "It's nice to meet you."
"K," I said, glancing at her. "Tell me about Mom. Please. That's why we're here. I need to know."
Kayla frowned, seeming to forget why we were here. She turned and led us to her table. She sat down and reached out for my hand. I let her take it. She squeezed my fingers.
"A few months ago, Mom said that she didn't think you killed Dad."
My whole body froze. "What are you talking about? She was convinced, that's why she took you away from me. She didn't want to be anywhere near me. I killed her husband—our father—she had every right to leave."
"But you didn't, you said so yourself. You kept telling me that you didn't," Kayla said.
"I wished it," I whispered. "And then he was gone. You said it yourself that night. Don't you remember?"
Isaac's voice cut through the argument. "How many times have kids wished their parents died or disappeared? Has it ever happened? Nina, this wasn't your fault. Wishing can't make things happen."
I shut my eyes, the tears stinging them.
I opened them and looked at my sister; she was pale and visibly upset.
"Take me to her," I said. "Take me to the hospital. I want to talk to Mom."