“I’m getting that.”
Andy had to buy herself some time to think. She returned the pad and pencil to the drawer. This whole conversation was going sideways. Andy wasn’t so stupid that she didn’t know she was being played. She’d come here for answers, not more questions.
Paula said, “You look like her.”
Andy felt a bolt of lightning shoot from head to toe.
You-look-like-her-you-look-like-her-you-look-like-your-mother.
Slowly, Andy turned around.
“The eyes, mostly.” Paula used the point of a large chef’s knife to indicate her eyes. “The shape of your face, like a heart.”
Andy felt frozen in place. She kept playing back Paula’s words in her head because her heart was pounding so loudly that she could barely hear.
The eyes... The shape of your face...
Paula said, “She was never as timid as you. Must get that from your father?”
Andy didn’t know because she didn’t know anything except that she had to lean against the counter and lock her knees so she didn’t fall down.
Paula resumed chopping. “What do you know about her?”
“That...” Andy was having trouble speaking again. Her stomach had filled with bees. “That she’s been my mother for thirty-one years.”
Paula nodded. “That’s some interesting math.”
“Why?”
“Why indeed.”
The sound of the knife thwapping the chopping board resonated inside of Andy’s head. She had to stop reacting. She needed to ask her questions. She’d made a whole list of them in her head on the seven-hour drive and now—
“Could you—”
“Dollar bill, kid. Could I what?”
Andy felt dizzy. Her body was experiencing the odd numbness of days before. Her arms and legs wanted to float up toward the ceiling, her brain had disconnected from her mouth. She couldn’t fall back into old patterns. Not now. Not when she was so close.
“Can—” Andy tried a third time, “How do you know her? My mother?”
“I’m not a snitch.”
Snitch?
Paula had looked up from her chopping. Her expression was unreadable. “I’m not trying to be a bitch. Though, admittedly, being a bitch is kind of my thing.” She diced together a bundle of celery and carrots. The pieces were all identical in size. The knife moved so fast that it looked still. “I learned how to cook in the prison kitchen. We had to be fast.”
Prison?
“I always wanted to learn.” Paula scooped the vegetables into her hands and walked over to the stove. She dropped everything into a stew pot as she told Andy, “It took over a decade for me to earn the privilege. They only let the older gals handle the knives.”
Over a decade?
Paula asked, “I gather you didn’t see that when you googled me.”
Andy realized her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. She was too astonished to process all of these revelations.
Snitch. Prison. Over a decade.