“Hello?” A deep baritone comes through the speaker, the same one I remember from my childhood, even though so many times I wish I could’ve forgotten it.
Fuck, it hits me straight in the chest.
I clear my throat that’s clogged with emotion. Pain, sadness, regret. So many emotions, I can’t seem to sift through them all. “It’s Reed.”
He exhales loudly, like my phone call is what he had been waiting for. “Reed… son-”
“Don’t call me your son,” I spit, cutting him off. I rise from my bed and start to pace the room. Desperate for a way to burn off the anxiety threatening to close my throat completely.
Fuck, I’m not prepared to confront a demon, not without warning, which makes it difficult to work through the thoughts clamoring in my head.
“I’m sorry. I needed your information to give to Children and Family Services.” He begins hacking on the other end of the line, causing me to pause. I’m trying to gather my wits, to calm down. But it’s not working very well.
“Why would DCFS need to contactme?” My anger morphs into confusion.
“I’m not sure how to say this, Reed.” He starts to softly cry on the other end of the phone. “Your sister, Amelia, and her husband, Adam, were killed this morning in a robbery gone wrong in New York City. They have a son, Evan.” Robert’s voice breaks as he speaks. It seems unreal to hear emotion in his voice, to hear him so affected, even though, logically, he did just lose his daughter.
Amelia’s…dead? My half-sister, who I’ve only met twice, briefly, is... dead. Shock hits me full force. I knew something was off for Robert to reach out to me for the first time in twenty years, but I never expected this.
Part of me is sad. Sad that my sister’s life ended tragically and that her son will have to grow up without a mother, and sad that I didn’t have the opportunity to truly know her. Because of our father, we never had a relationship and that’s a regret that I’ll have to carry. I could’ve reached out; I could’ve pushed the past aside and tried to make amends with her. But now it’s too late.
Shit, Evan…my nephew.God, I have a fucking nephew. I didn’t even know he existed.
“Was the child there? Is he okay?” I ask.
“Evan was at the babysitter’s when it happened.”
This is all so fucking much to process; my head is spinning. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to breathe. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this.
My sister is dead.
And because of the issues with our father, I didn’t have the chance to know her.
“What does this mean? What should I do?”
Robert pauses. “I... I have cancer, Reed. I won’t sugarcoat anything. Legally, Evan would become mine, but I’m dying and unfit to be Evan’s guardian. I have stage four lung cancer.”
The irony of his words isn’t lost on me. Kind of like he was unfit to be our parent? So he left when it wasn’t fun for him any longer. Emery was younger when he left, so she doesn’t feel as deeply or as strongly as I do about him. Emery barely remembers him. But I do. I remember my father walking out, and the feeling of betrayal I felt as he found another wife and had another child when he had abandoned his two other children. Imagine waking up on Christmas morning, knowing your father was with his new family, and you were just an afterthought. He never called. He never sent letters. Once he left, he never tried to see us again. It was clear the choice that he made.
My entire life was spent wondering what I did wrong, what I could have done to make my father stay. To want our family. To want me.
As an adult, I finally realized that it was Robert’s issues. I’ve spent years working through the fucked-up trauma he’s left behind.
Now, he’s dying. Cancer. It may seem cold to be this unaffected, but the truth is, I mourned the loss of my father a long time ago. That doesn’t mean that the pain doesn’t blossom somewhere deep inside, it just means that I can’t miss someone who’s been dead to me since I was eight years old.
“Sorry to hear it,” I mutter. I don't trust myself to say anything else right now. Emotions are high, and it’s getting harder to swallow by the second.
I wish I wasn’t having this conversation. I wish my sister dying wasn’t the only reason that my father was reaching out. Most of all, I wish he had realized his mistakes before he was on his deathbed, and actually tried to make it right. If not for me, then for Em.
“My… My wife passed away from breast cancer three years ago. Amelia’s mother, and there isn’t anyone else aside from you and Emery. You’re the oldest, so the choice will be yours. DCSF will be in touch with you, Reed. I wanted to tell you this news myself.” He pauses, and I hear a quiet sniffle in the background. “I’m sorry I didn’t do right by you or your sister, Reed. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my lifetime, and hurting you two is my greatest one. I’m sorry.”
With that, my phone beeps. When I look down at the glowing screen, the call has ended, and I’m left staring at a blank display.
I’m still in shock and disbelief that my sister is dead and that I just spoke to Robert for the first time in twenty years. I walk into the kitchen and flick the light on, illuminating the open dining room and kitchen before grabbing a Gatorade from the fridge where I down it in a single gulp.
It does nothing to help the lump still lodged in my throat.
My phone rings again, only this time the caller ID reads New York, NY.