“I’m good right here. I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your names.”
The two of them look at each other. It’s alien-like, the way they’re acting. I glance at my phone, waiting for Elle to text me back.
“Quinn,” the blonde one speaks again. “I’ve waited a long time to meet you.”
“Me too,” the other one says.
I study them, watching for a sign that I know them. I step back and continue to do so until I’m resting against the desk. The older one, she doesn’t need to tell me her name, the pieces have all fallen into place and I already know who she is, and the fact that she’s here makes me want to vomit all over the floor.
“Do you know who I am?” she asks.
I nod, slightly. “What are you doing here?” My voice is weak and unsure.
She smiles. “I’m so proud of you, son. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time, and finally, it’s here.”
“I’m not your son,” I mumble.
“I think you’re scaring him, Mom.” My eyes flash to hers. She said “Mom” meaning she must be my sister, but I already have two and I don’t need anymore. I don’t want anymore. “I’m Sofia. You have to excuse our mom, she’s been waiting for this moment for a long time and doesn’t seem to be herself.”
Sofia. Sofia. Where do I know that name from? She doesn’t look familiar, so I know I’ve never met her before, but her name, it’s been said around me, but where? It’s stupid of me to try and figure it out, especially since I hear so many names, specifically tonight when I signed a bunch of autographs.
“Did you ask me for an autograph earlier?”
She shakes her head. “Don’t you think that would be sort of silly? Me asking for my brother’s autograph?”
“I’m not your brother,” I mumble, again. There’s zero infliction in my voice, no authority. I’ve thought of this moment over the years, wondering how it would play out. I expected a letter or an email, or a phone call funneled through my dad, but never this. I never thought I’d be face-to-face with the woman who left me in my car carrier in the middle of my father’s floor. I’ve never had any intention of meeting the woman who drugged my father, so he would sleep with her, and yet, she’s standing in the same room as me with a stupid grin on her face, like this is some long overdue reunion, when it’s not.
“Alicia…” I hate that her name is even coming off my lips, that I even had the courage to say it. By the look on her face, she loves hearing me say her name.
“I’m so happy to hear that your father has spoken about me.”
“Don’t talk about my dad, my mom or anyone in my family.”
“I’m your mother,” she says, sternly.
“You’re not,” I remind her. “You gave up all your rights to me and until I turned eighteen my dad had a restraining order against you. I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t seem very motherly to me.”
“Your father didn’t give me much choice.”
“No, you had every choice in the world to be a mother and you chose not to. So, I’m asking you again, why are you here? Do you want money? What could possibly possess you to think I’d want to meet you like this?”
Alicia sits down and reaches into her purse. She pulls out a tissue and dabs her eyes. I don’t care that I’ve made her cry, they could be crocodile tears for all I know. I spent eight years thinking this woman hated me or would show up in the middle of the night and somehow take me away from my dad.
“You’re upsetting our mother.”
I turn my gaze sharply to Sofia. “She’s not my mother. She never was and never will be. I’m sorry if you were expecting some open-armed family reunion, but you’re not going to get it from me.” My phone vibrates in my hand. It’s Elle. I open her message and read it: I didn’t send anyone. I’m on my way. Don’t agree to anything.
I text back: I know you didn’t. It’s Alicia. She’s here.
The conversation bubbles seem to freeze on my screen. I don’t even want to know what’s going through her mind right now, but I wish she were here because she’d know how to handle things. I’m calling Dad.
She doesn’t need to say anything else because right now, he’s who I need.
“All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, Charles.”
I take a deep breath and try to ward off the anger that’s building inside. “My name’s Quinn. The least you can do is respect the name my father gave me, even though you had no respect for him.”
“I was young.”