I wanted to ask how we could know for sure that Mrs. Beeton was the person who came up with the ingredients idea, but I decided I was going to have a little faith that it was true. I was going to have faith in Mrs. Beeton, and—if Rain was bothering to be kind to me, to dredge up this story she’d been saving until I deserved it—maybe a little faith in myself.
My sister walked over to the bay windows, looked outside. “It is really freaky to be back in here.”
I walked over to the windows, too, so we were side by side. “I’ve actually found it kind of comforting.”
“That’s even freakier.”
I looked right at her, Rain’s eyes still straight ahead. “I shouldn’t have said what I did, about you and Dad,” I said.
She flinched. “I’m not like him,” she said.
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
“If anyone’s like him, it’s me.”
She turned and met my eyes. I nodded, wanting her to know she’d heard me correctly—that I meant it. I did. I knew it was the reason I’d had to leave Montauk. It was the reason I stayed away from my sister; because she knew it too.
I only understood it now—after Sunshine had taken such a terrible pivot, after Danny had outed me—and I was forced to face myself again. I had become my father’s daughter. He’d had his rules. And I created my lies. And they served the same purpose at the end of the day. They let us live in alternative universes where we got to pretend that we were strong. Where we felt good enough.
Rain looked away, not sure what to say. I was sorry, and she knew it. I was trying to do better. If we had a different relationship, she could have taken my hand or touched me. But that wasn’t who we were, not anymore.
She looked at me. “I’d like to go home now,” she said.
I smiled, a little deflated. “Sure.”
“And I would like you to come with me.”
I nodded, my throat catching. She shrugged, playing it off.
“I guess that baby inside of you . . . he gets you some goodwill as far as I’m concerned.”
“You think it’s a he?” I said.
Rain started gathering up her things, doing a final sweep of the kitchen. “I just picked a pronoun.”
50
Putting the ingredients up front. Here’s how I planned to do it.
I called Julie, ready to take her up on her generous offer. There were many reasons to tell her yes after all. A new show would provide financial security, a career, a way to help take care of Sammy, to take care of my own kid, a way out of Montauk. A shot at redemption. No lies this time. And hadn’t a version of this very thing been the goal?
Still, when I heard her voice on the phone, the word yes wouldn’t come out of my mouth.
“So, are we going to do something great together?” she said.
“Can I ask you something first? Do you think there’s a way to live in the public eye and be authentic? You work with all sorts of people. How do people do it?”
“Well, you don’t lie about who you are. For starters.”
I laughed. “I know, but even then . . . it seems tricky.”
“Oh, jeez. I guess they don’t take the whole thing so seriously,” she said. “Or maybe they take it very seriously. I don’t know. I think you’re missing the point.”
“Which is?”
“I’m offering you a second chance. And this time, there will be no pretending to be anything you’re not. It will be the real you.”