Conundrum (33 page)

We used to make jokes about Neal—Raff
and I
—because Neal looked different with his lighter hair and freckles, his disinterest in math and preference for sports.
We even
teased
our mother about the milkman
, insinuating how Neal looked more like him,
and how Neal wasn’t really our brother
, that he had been left on the doorstep in a basket with a note pinned to his blanket
.
My mother would laugh along with us. A longstanding family Sitteroff joke.

Some joke. The joke was on us kids.
Particularly o
n Neal.

I could just picture Neal’s face when he learned the truth. And Raff’s too. Suddenly, I was eager to indulge Julie’s wish to meet Neal.
I told her I would arrange a visit.

Chapter 21

I punched in the phone number, knowing my mother would be at her office. Maybe Neal would be napping on her chintz couch and would answer. The
answering machine
picked up
,
and I promptly hung up. What kind of message could I leave? I turned to Julie, who hovered at a polite distance from me in my kitchen.

“Why don’t you leave a message? Neal doesn’t know you—you could just say you have some important information for him. Don’t give your last name—because if my mother hears this message, she will put it together in a heartbeat.
” Julie nodded and waited for me to redial. When the machine beeped, Julie started talking, but was interrupted when the line was answered.

“Hey, this is Neal. Who is this?”

Without hesitation or shame, I pressed the speakerphone. I gestured for Julie to continue. Her voice quavered a bit as she spoke, but I felt that would only enhance Neal’s curiosity. Anyone could hear the need in her voice. And Neal was a sucker for any female asking to see him.
She introduced herself only by “Julie,” saying she wanted to see him to talk about their families. She did a good job holding back.

“
What about our families?” he asked. Even over the speakerphone, I could tell Neal wasn’t fishing for information. He was outright flirting—without a clue who Julie was or what she looked like.

“I’m sorry to be so mysterious, but I can’t discuss it on the phone. Could we meet somewhere—like a
c
offee
shop, some place public?”

Neal paused. “Now? Okay, well, where are you?”

Julie shot me a nervous glance and I shook my head, hoping she’d make up something.

“Well, I’m in Marin County. That’s where you live, right
?
—I could tell by the are
a
code when I dialed.”

“Hey, how did you get my number, anyway?” Neal’s tone turned cautious.

“I’ll tell you everything when I see you.” I scribbled on a piece of notepaper and turned it to Julie to read. She nodded. “How about
.
 
.
 
.
Barrone’s Café—in San Rafael? I could be there in, say, forty minutes?”

Neal grew quiet, but before I could scribble anything else, Julie spoke again. “Neal, I won’t take up your time. I’ll be easy to spot: I’m tall, long blond hair, thirty
.
 
.
 
.
”

The word
blond
did it. I nearly rolled my eyes at Neal’s predict
a
ble response
and shift in voice
.

“Okay, I’ll be there. Barrone’s Café at about four o’clock. I guess I should tell you what I look like—”

“I already know. I’ll watch for you.” Julie quickly hung up and looked at me. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Naw, saying you know what he looks like probably intrigued him. His curiosity will spur him on.”

Julie’s
expression
grew intense as a cloud of worry passed over. “Lisa, please come with me—”

“I don’t think so
—
”

“Really, you should. I don’t think he’ll believe anything I say.”

“He may not. But once he tells our mother, it will be apparent you spoke the truth.” I could just picture Neal confronting
our mother
. Not a pretty picture
, but something I would love to witness—from a very safe distance.

Jeremy called out from his spot on the living room couch. “Go, Lisa. You shouldn’t miss this
—a once-in-a-million opportunity to watch your brother go into shock
. And it will give you t
he chance to confront Neal without your m
other standing on his shoulder
s
.”

“Please,” Julie added.

The thought of facing Neal brought an ache to my gut. Seeing him would require rallying up strength and courage I just didn’t have right then.

“If he sees me with Julie, he might turn and walk out,” I said.

Jeremy’s reply was quick. “Then wait until he meets her and he’s sitting down. He won’t up and bolt at that point. Not after seeing Julie.”

I knew what he meant, even if Julie didn’t. One look at her would set my brother’s mouth drooling and numb his brain. He’d be too flustered to make a hasty retreat, needing to make a good impression on her. I tried to imagine the worst that could happen. Neal would scream at me, make an embarrassing scene.
But even that wasn’t likely. Neal prided himself on his cool, suave demeanor. He wouldn’t dare behave that way in public.
Maybe he’d hate me even more—so what? Maybe our mother would deny it when he told her, and blame me for
concocting
such an outrageous story.

But Neal had been there, listening when I threw out the name Shirley Hutchinson. He’d witnessed the horror on our mother’s face. Maybe he questioned her after I left. I wonder what she told him—if anything.

Surely, not the truth.

Anything but.

We took separate cars so Julie wouldn’t have to drive me back to northern Marin—and so that I could make a hasty getaway should things turn ugly. Julie followed me into a parking lot two blocks from the café, then after wishing her good luck, I watched her walk down the street and into Barrone’s. I had spotted Neal’s Honda parked across from the entrance, so I knew he was already inside—no doubt with a table facing the door so he could watch for her.

I’d give them five minutes—I hoped that would be enough time to get things rocking.
My stomach was a bundle of nerves. Julie wanted so much to connect with Neal, to form a bond with her only sibling. Yet, the timing of this encounter seemed so inauspicious. How could it not become tainted by all the
family drama and hostility? And what point would it serve for me to go inside and no doubt spoil the joyousness of this occasion
?

No, Jeremy
had been
wrong to urge me to go.
And Julie could manage without me. Neal would either believe her story or not. What did that matter to me? What Neal did with her information was up to him. My gloating in some way over this bit of revelation would only spark Neal’s anger, which he might direct at Julie.

Maybe all this reasoning was my way of chickening out. Regardless, I sat in my car and waited, trusting that Julie would give me a full report when she was done talking.
I was stunned, then, when I saw
her
storm out only minutes after she entered
—
with Neal fast on her heels.

I slunk in my seat, but my attempt at invisibility didn’t work. Julie headed straight for my car. Neal nearly tripped over his feet when he spotted me, his perturbed face reflecting anger and smugness
, but not surprise
. Julie’s distraught expression tugged at my heart. Clearly, Neal
hadn’t
believe
d
a word of her story. My own anger propelled me out of my car
. I felt embarrassed for her, for having such a jerk for a brother. I could hardly imagine what he had said to her when she told him she was his sister.
And what kind of scene he might have made in the coffee shop.

“So, what’s this all about, Lis?”

Neal strode toward me as I planted my feet on the parking lot. I glanced around, wondering if the few people walking along Fourth Street would soon be privy to a loud argument. I lectured myself with stern warnings. This was not about me, or about my need to win or retaliate. Julie deserved some vindication. At very least, some respect. I took a deep breath and let it out as Julie came alongside me. I caught a glance of her face; she was holding back tears.

Neal didn’t give me a chance to speak. “I
knew
you’d be behind this ruse. Just how stupid
do
you think I
am
?”
He positioned himself a few feet away. At least he made an effort to lower his voice
;
h
is words came out through clenched teeth.

He pointed at Julie. “Is she an actress? Must be. Did you tell her to cry too? How much did you pay her to put on this little performance?”

Julie crumpled next to me. I leaned in and measured out my words.
“You are such an idiot, Neal. Julie H
u
tchinson
is
your sister. Why in the world would I make this up
—
”

“Why? Isn’t it obvious? You just can’t stand it that Mom has the upper
hand, that she’s
finally making
you to pay her back for all the money she’s lavished on you over the years. You have some nerve—”

“And you are going to hate yourself tomorrow, when you realize the truth. Julie’s been trying for three years to find you, to find her
only brother
. She was so excited to meet you and you
.
 
.
 
.
treat her like this!”

Neal reacted as if I had slapped him. Perhaps he thought I’d cave in and confess my deceit. My words befuddled him.

I turned to Julie, ignoring Neal. “Julie, I’m so sorry. Really sorry. This is just bad timing, that’s all. Maybe later, some future time, when things calm down in my family—”

Julie laid her hand on
my
arm
.
I felt her fingers tremble. Pain oozed from her eyes. “That’s okay.” Her voice barely came out above a whisper. “I
.
 
.
 
.
I’ll call you later.”

I could tell she wanted to say more, but tears worked their way down her cheeks
.
S
he quickly wiped them with her sleeve and lowered her head to avoid further eye contact.
I felt terrible for her.
Neal stood
in silence
as we both watched Julie hurry to her car and get in without looking back.

I glared at Neal with such incredulity that his jaw dropped open. My eyes dared him to say a word, one word, any word.
I couldn’t recall ever pinning him that way, not ever, in all our years growing up. Maybe my fury frightened him.

In a flash, I wondered what had happened to the sweet little brother I grew up with. The pliant, easygoing boy who would tromp off on adventures with me through the neighborhood, play catch with me in the park, ride bikes with me down steep hills, waving our arms in the air as we balanced on our pedals.
How many times had I led him, holding his little hand in mine, giv
en
him a hug when he was frightened by bad dreams or when kids picked on him at school
?
I had been his champion and mentor when he was young. And consoled him through his teenage years when Raff was away at college, when he scored low on a test or when a girl he liked spurned him.

This creature that stood before me was some warped concoction of my mother’s, some byproduct of years of lies and poison infiltrating Neal’s heart and mind. Radiation seeping into the brain and vital organs, mutating cells and DNA and turning an innocent into a puppet on strings. My anger morphed into pity. Neal, the most impressionable of
us
three children, was soft clay under my mother’s hands.
How many years had she spent molding him to her whim, calculating ways to turn him into her lackey, siphoning away his will, his dreams, the vision of his future
?
Here he was, living with her, drifting from job to job, unmoored to his life. I realized in that instant that all her grumblings over Neal—her worry and disappointment over his lack of direction, lack of a steady girlfriend, lack of sufficient income—
were part of her act. She had him right where she wanted him, completely dependent upon her and—more importantly—devoted
with the passion of a religious fanatic.
How had I never seen this?