Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller
Chapter 15
The second mysister opens her mouth to spew venom, I’m hit by a wave of nostalgia that damn near knocks me off my feet.
For the slightest blip in time, I’m a kid again, standing on the sunken concrete porch of a little house in North Carolina, rain stitching my clothes to my skin. Droplets of water roll off the end of my nose as I wait, hoping that maybe this time the man who helped give me life will answer the door.
My fist curls around the scrap of paper in my trench coat pocket, my mother’s goodbye, something I’ve read so many times at this point, I know the words by heart.
Auden’s Funeral Blues scribbled by cancer-riddled hands, a single space above the address of a man she never spoke of. A man who, thirteen years prior, met a dark-haired mystery in a nightclub, took her home, and never contacted her again after that.
It wasn’t until she sought him out with evidence of their tryst together that she learned he was married.
His wife had just given birth to their first son.
He didn’t want me. Told my mother to take care of the problem, and not to come around again.
She didn’t.
Take care of me, that is.
And I spent the first decade of my life without the knowledge that I was a reject. The product of a bad decision, brought about because my mother was practically a saint, and she didn’t want to punish anyone else for her mistakes.
Still, the universe didn’t reward her.
Which is why I found myself on my sperm donor’s doorstep, praying that thirteen years may have lessened the blow of having a child outside of his marriage. That maybe he’d be happy to have another son, like a built-in friend for the one who wasn’t a bastard.
Throat tight, I wait in front of the door like I’ve waited four other times this week, my knuckles red from all the knocking. The downpour doesn’t erase the sound from my head; in my mind, the knocking never ceases, even after I drop my hand.
I don’t know what I’m expecting, in all honesty. My mother’s been six feet under for less than a day, and I’m already out trying to find a figurehead to replace her.
Maybe I am as evil and selfish as my grandfather always says.
A light flickers on in the big bay window at the front of the little white house, and a second later the door creaks open. Hope blooms in my chest like the sunflowers to my right, bright and wide, ready to absorb any ounce of potential nourishment I can get.
Instead, a little girl with onyx hair spilling down her back appears, clasping the door in her hand. She blinks at me through the storm door, big doe eyes reflecting an innocence mine never have.
Her pale, moon-shaped face turns up, a thousand-yard stare taking me in, processing silently.
Now, with that same little girl staring up at me again as an adult, I can’t help the pang that comes next as I return to the present. I ran when I saw her back then, and everything in me wants to repeat that scene, to get as far away from my sister as I can before my existence ruins her.
One of my legs shifts, as if trying to escape, but Violet notices and scurries in front of me, blocking my path. “Oh, no. You’re not going anywhere. You lure me to this shitty little island with a job that I just knew was too good to be true, the least you can do is explain yourself.”
I clear my throat, glancing down at her all-black outfit, so ridiculously similar to my own that I almost laugh. Nature versus nurture, I guess.
Steeling myself against the nerves fluttering inside my chest, I stuff my hands in my pockets and shrug. “I’d say you already know the reason you’re here, Violet. You won’t cash any of the checks I send, and you’ve blocked my ability to wire transfer funds into your bank account. This was the next logical step.”
Her brows arch. “Actually, the next logical step would be to leave me alone, like I’ve asked you to a hundred times.”
“Take the money I’m trying to give you and I’ll leave you be.”
“I don’t want your money!” she snaps, turning a few heads of the people passing by on their way from the Dunkin’ Donuts down the street. “Honestly, Kal, it’s a nice gesture, but... it’s not warranted.”
Clenching my jaw, I exhale roughly. “You’re drowning in debt, Violet. Let me help you.”
“God, you don’t get it, do you?” Shaking her head, she turns on her heel, scanning the sidewalk as if looking for eavesdroppers. As if anyone in Aplana is at all concerned with the happenings of others—that’s why the island is primarily made up of tourists year-round. People come here to escape.
Or, in my case, to hide.
They definitely don’t come for gossip, and the locals know better than to put their noses in my business, even if they don’t know exactly why they shouldn’t.
“Have a cup of coffee with me and explain it,” I offer, nodding at Dunkin’. Such an odd franchise for this part of town, given the number of mom-and-pop shops littering the streets, but it does surprisingly well.
“I don’t want to have coffee with you. I don’t even want to be here, on this island. But I came, even though my best friend told me something sounded off. I thought, it’s an island with a population of less than a hundred people, what could possibly happen?” She snorts sharply, narrowing her eyes. “Just when I was starting to forget about you.”
Her words are a barb aimed directly at my heart; it sinks inside the muscle, flaring so it latches on tightly and refuses to relinquish its hold. I rub at the ache they cause, taking a step back, wondering if I should go back inside and leave her be after all.
“This is your problem, Kal. You want to force a relationship by fixing what you feel are problems. I didn’t ask for your help, and I know damn sure my dad didn’t, either.”
I bite the inside of my cheek in silent protest. Her dad.
Not ours.
I don’t reply, letting the weight of her words pull them down between us, anchoring them to the space where I once stood.
Finally, she exhales, mimicking my movement backward, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand. “Did you... did you really kidnap that girl?”
“Keeping tabs on me, sister?”
She scrunches up her nose. “You can’t go anywhere back home without hearing about it. She’s a mafia princess, Kal. What are you even thinking?”
Part of me almost laughs again at the condescension seeping from her tone.
Like I’m afraid of the fucking mafia.
“I know who she is, and I didn’t kidnap anyone. Elena married me of her own volition. If you want the sordid details of how she pursued me, then I her, I’ll give them to you as soon as you cash one of my fucking checks.”
“Wasn’t she supposed to marry someone else? Some news reporter, or journalist?” Violet tilts her head, studying me. “You know they found his body, right?”
Annoyance burns hot on the back of my tongue. “I’m not sure why that would concern me.”
She presses her lips together, glancing down at the Birkenstocks on her feet. “It probably doesn’t, and that’s part of our problem.”
Slipping my hands from my pockets, I reach up and tug at the collar of my dress shirt, shaking my head. “Actually, we don’t have a problem. In fact, per your request, we don’t even have a relationship.” I start to head in the opposite direction down the street, pausing once to see the astonishment coloring her features.
“I’ve been poor, you know. Most of my life, that was my identity. It sucks, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Not even on the man who still to this day won’t recognize me as his own.” Violet blinks, reminding me so much of the little girl on the doorstep all those years ago, staring up at me like I was a stranger.
Which, I suppose I am. Even now.
“I’ll tell Jonas you’re no longer interested in working here,” I say, moving back toward the front door of the Flaming Chariot. “See to it you’re off my island by sundown.”
And with that, I head back inside.
