Four Steps (Four)

“None of what you’re saying means anything, or makes any sense. How exactly was it best for you to disappear from my life with no explanation? You never once contacted me, and now you suddenly show up and act like you care about my welfare?”

Hurt looks cross all of their faces.

“We’ve always cared about you,” Lennox says.

“Caroline, we’re sorry. We did what we had to do,” Barrett says.

“And what exactly does that mean? What did you have to do?”

“Your dad kicked us out,” Lincoln says, interrupting before his older brothers can say anything else.

His words are a blow. I actually stumble backward and drop down to sit on the edge of the bed so that I can put all my energy into processing what he’s said.

My father was often hot-headed — there’s no surprise there — but his anger was always directed at me, or at Rachel. The twins intervened sometimes, but oddly, Dad didn’t engage in arguments with them. I never recall him blowing up at them, as he often did at me and Rachel.

“Why would he kick you out?”

Two of the men hang their heads. All four of them look uncomfortable. They have a way of carrying themselves that exudes confidence and strength, but their posture is different now. It’s clear this is a painful memory.

“We were saying some things he didn’t like,” Barrett says.

“You fought with him?”

“No,” Bronson says, drawing the word out, but not adding to it.

My dad could definitely be difficult, to put it lightly, but in all the years we fought, he never threatened to kick me out. He was actually upset when I left. “Please help me understand what happened,” I say, a pleading tone creeping into my voice.

“Your dad overhead us talking about you,” Bronson says.

“About me? What were you saying?”

“Stupid shit,” Lennox says.

“We were young,” Barrett says, looking down at his feet. “We were talking about how you were growing and changing. How your body was changing.”

I frown and stay silent.

“Your dad overheard us and got the wrong idea. I guess it scared him to have four guys living in the same house with his daughter, who was turning into a woman,” Lennox says.

“But things were never like that,” I say, shaking my head, still frowning.

“No, things weren’t like that,” Barrett says.

“Nothing would have happened back then,” Bronson says.

Back then? It was clear earlier tonight that they’ve noticed I’ve turned into a woman. Do they look at me differently now?

I’m suddenly aware that, in my anger, I gave no thought to what I was wearing when I answered the door. The thin fabric of my top is clinging to my breasts and my nipples have gone hard.

I cross my arms over my chest. “So he told you to go, and you just left? It was your house too,” I say.

“We thought it would be best to go. To keep the peace. Your dad was already hard on you, and we didn’t want things to get worse,” Lennox says.

“Joining the army was our best option,” Lincoln says. “If we stayed nearby, your dad would still be wary, and there weren’t a lot of good jobs available in the area.”

“I relied on you in that house,” I say, pushing up from the bed to stand. “You know how our parents’ relationship was. You were my sanity and my escape.”

“Did your dad ever hurt you, Caz?” Lennox asks, his eyes searching my face.

“Physically? No,” I tell him, as I move around them toward the door. “I was fine.” My tone is cold. I’m basically spitting out my words. “I was fine then, and I’m fine now. I don’t need you coming around to take care of me after all this time.”

I turn the knob and swing the door wide. “I’m tired. Please go.”

8

My younger self

The next morning, I’m about an hour into my assistant work when my phone buzzes with a call. She must not realize she’s on my contacts list, because when I answer, she says, “Caroline? This is your aunt Michelle.”

She’s not technically my aunt — step-aunt, I guess, if that’s a thing. She has a much harder exterior than her sister, Rachel, but Michelle’s always been nice to me, and it’s kind of her to call herself my aunt.

My dad was an only child whose parents are also deceased, and I have no idea about my mother’s relatives because my dad never told me anything about them. My mother apparently ran off when I was two, and I’ve never heard from her. Seems to be a pattern in my life.

So Michelle is one of my very few remaining relatives, along with Rachel and the four Stone brothers. I swallow a lump in my throat at the thought of them. I still haven’t fully processed what they told me last night.

“Hi, Michelle. How are you?” I ask.