“With our dad?”
My heart, which had been on the verge of melting all afternoon, turned liquid, especially when I glanced at her face and saw that her expression had suddenly become guarded. I had no idea what Dad had told her in his letters, but obviously nothing about me, and clearly very little about himself.
“No, Olivia,” I said. “Our dad and my mom split up a long time ago—right after I was born. Dad is single. He doesn’t live with anyone.”
“Except his mother,” Lilly added darkly.
Olivia didn’t seem to hear her, however. She said, staring out the window at the trees whizzing by along I-95, “It makes sense that he doesn’t live with anyone. Probably the death of my mother, who was very beautiful, still haunts him to this day. That’s most likely why he never wanted to see me before, because I look so much like her, and the sight of me would be too painful a reminder of his lost love.”
I was so astonished by this, I didn’t know how to reply. I don’t think I’d ever seen Lilly clap a hand over her mouth so quickly to keep herself from bursting into laughter.
“Oh!” Tina whispered. “The sweet thing. The sweet little thing!”
Olivia looked away from the window and back toward us, completely oblivious to the fact that she’d sent one of us into near-hysterical gales of laughter and the other into near-tears. I was torn between both.
Olivia’s expression was stormy. “I understand now why Aunt Catherine said I’m not allowed to go there.”
“Go where?” I asked. “To meet your father? Your aunt and I talked about that, Olivia, and we decided that it was okay.” Well, not in so many words, but whatever.
“No, go to New York,” she said. She took a big swallow of soda. It was clear she liked the stuff. We had so much in common already. “My aunt always said New York is too dirty and dangerous for kids. But I can see now that she probably never wanted me to go there because I might run into my dad, and then I’d find out I’m really a princess, and seeing me would probably cause him emotional damage.”
I thought it best to avoid this last topic—especially since it sent Lilly into peals of laughter that she didn’t even bother to hide—and instead asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up (which was both ridiculous and pathetic, because obviously now she’s going to be a princess, and I’ve told myself a million times to stop asking kids what they want to be when they grow up and here I was doing it to my own sister).
But Olivia was all too happy to show me, flipping through her “diary”—actually a notebook—where she’d sketched many cats, horses, and—for unknown reasons—kangaroos.
“I want to be a wildlife illustrator,” she said, explaining that this was one of the reasons she’d always wanted to go to New York City. “They’re the artists who draw all the animals on the plaques outside the exhibits at the zoos and on websites and in books and stuff. It’s a dying industry, thanks to photography, but I’m pretty sure I can make it because I’ve always gotten really good grades in art. My teacher says I’ve just got to keep practicing.”
“Well,” I said, impressed. I mean, really, how many other twelve-year-old girls want to be wildlife illustrators? My little sister is obviously superior. “I think it’s about time you got to go to New York City, then, because we need more wildlife illustrators in this world.”
“We really do,” Tina burst out excitedly.
“Definitely,” Lilly agreed. “You can meet your grandmother, too. I know she’s going to be very excited to meet you, and hear all about wildlife illustration.”
I shot her a warning look, but it was too late. Olivia was already asking what kind of cooking our grandmother enjoys. “My best friend Nishi’s grandmother makes authentic Indian samosas and chicken tikka masala every Sunday night.”
Lilly choked on the cocktail she’d prepared for herself. “Yeah, Mia,” she said. “Tell your sister about the home-cooked meals your grandma loves to make on Sunday night. What’s her favorite ingredient again? Bourbon?”
“No,” I said, more to Lilly than to Olivia. “Our grandmother doesn’t cook. But she has many other talents. She’s very . . .”
How to describe Grandmère? For once, words failed me. And that’s saying a lot, because besides filling pages and pages of diaries like this one, I got A’s on every essay test I took in college, and occasionally they were described by my professors as examples of “exemplary work.” Well, okay, once.
“Your grandmother is very knowledgeable,” Tina said, finally.
Well, that’s certainly true.
“That sounds good,” Olivia said, pulling a sheet of paper from her backpack, which seemed to be filled with endless amounts of them. “Because we’ve been doing genealogy in my biology class, and I had to leave all these spaces blank on my work sheet because I didn’t know the answers. I was going to write to Dad to ask, but I knew by the time I heard back, the work sheet would be overdue. Maybe my grandmother could help me fill them out?”
I looked down at the work sheet. “Who Am I?” it read across the top in bold lettering.
Lots of people go through life not having the slightest idea what names to put in the blanks on their “Who Am I?” work sheets, and they aren’t bothered in the least by it. What does it even matter, anyway? You can get your blood tested now and find out what you have the genetic tendency for.
But it seemed terrible that my own sister shouldn’t know.
“And the truth is,” Olivia was going on, prattling with perfect ease, like she’d known me her entire life, “I sort of would like to know a few things for my own personal interest, like if diabetes runs in my family, and heart disease. Aunt Catherine never would tell me anything about my dad, just that he was too busy to take care of me because his work was so important. I understand that now, he has to run a whole country. But maybe”—Olivia had dug a pen from her backpack, along with the work sheet—“you know some of these answers? It’s due tomorrow, and it’s worth twenty-five percent of my total grade.”
“Oh, God,” I heard Tina whisper. I think about the aunt saying “Dad was too busy” to take care of Olivia, which caused my heart to break a little as well.
Lilly, however, only shook her head and said, “Yep. She’s your sister all right,