Chapter 6: The Girl I Forgot
I sat down because my legs stopped working.
Emily stared at the phone.
"What did you say?""
Sarah was quiet.
Then she repeated it.
"Daniel had a sister.""
I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because my brain refused to accept the sentence.
"No.""
"Her name was Rebecca.""
"No.""
"She was older than you.""
"No.""
"Daniel—"
"I would remember having a sister.""
Sarah's voice softened.
"You were six when she left.""
Left.
Not died.
Not disappeared.
Left.
The word lodged inside my chest.
"Why don't I remember her?""
"You do.""
I looked at Emily.
"What?""
"You just don't know that you remember.""
Sarah asked me to think about the summer photographs.
Birthday pictures.
Christmas mornings.
Family trips.
"Did you ever notice gaps?""
I had.
I'd never questioned them.
There were almost no photographs from before I turned seven.
Margaret always said the boxes were lost during a basement flood.
Sarah continued.
"Rebecca was twelve when I stayed with your family. She protected you constantly.""
Another memory surfaced.
A girl's hands tying my shoes.
A voice saying, "Stay behind me, Danny.""
A purple bracelet.
Then screaming.
I stood so quickly the coffee table shook.
"The bracelet.""
Emily looked at me.
"What bracelet?""
"Purple beads.""
Sarah stopped breathing for a second.
"Rebecca made it.""
My eyes filled with tears.
I walked toward the window.
"Why did she leave?""
Sarah hesitated.
"Because she told someone.""
My skin prickled.
"Told someone what?""
"About the punishments.""
The room felt smaller.
Sarah explained that Margaret had rules nobody outside the house was supposed to know.
If the children cried, they were isolated.
If they spilled something, they were humiliated.
If they contradicted her, they were called liars.
And if they threatened to tell Robert, Margaret convinced them that he would be furious with them.
Exactly what she had begun doing to Lily.
"Rebecca tried to tell a teacher," Sarah said.
"What happened?""
"Margaret found out.""
I closed my eyes.
"Then?""
"Your parents had a huge fight.""
"My dad knew?""
"Not everything.""
Sarah paused.
"Margaret told Robert that Rebecca was unstable and making things up for attention.""
Emily shook her head.
"Where did Rebecca go?""
"To an aunt.""
"Which aunt?""
"Margaret's sister Helen.""
I knew that name.
Barely.
Aunt Helen was the relative nobody discussed.
Whenever I asked about her growing up, Margaret said Helen had "betrayed the family.""
Now I understood what betrayal meant in my mother's vocabulary.
It meant refusing to stay silent.
"Is Rebecca alive?"" I asked.
Sarah took too long to answer.
"Yes.""
My hand went over my mouth.
I had a sister.
Somewhere in the world, I had a sister.
"Where?""
"I don't know anymore.""
"Sarah.""
"I'm telling you the truth. She changed her name years ago.""
"Why?""
"Because she didn't want Margaret finding her.""
Emily looked toward the stairs.
Lily.
I knew what she was thinking.
If Rebecca had spent decades hiding from my mother, what exactly had she been afraid of?
"Why did my father pretend she didn't exist?""
Sarah's voice hardened.
"Ask him.""
So I did.
The next morning, I returned to my parents' house.
Robert answered the door.
He looked like he hadn't slept.
"Where's Mom?""
"Gone.""
"Where?""
"I don't know.""
I stared at him.
"What do you mean you don't know?""
"She packed a bag.""
My stomach dropped.
"When?""
"Early this morning.""
"Did she say anything?""
Robert handed me an envelope.
"She left this.""
Inside was a single handwritten sentence.
*You wanted the truth. Ask your father why Rebecca really left.*
I looked up.
Robert sat down.
"Dad.""
He covered his face.
"Dad, look at me.""
Slowly, he did.
"Who is Rebecca?""
His eyes filled.
"My daughter.""
The answer hurt even though I already knew.
"My sister.""
He nodded.
"Why did you erase her?""
"I didn't.""
"You let Mom erase her.""
Robert looked down.
"I thought I was protecting you.""
"From what?""
"From remembering.""
I stared at him.
"What happened?""
He stood and walked toward the old family room.
Then he opened a cabinet I had seen a thousand times.
From the back, he removed a photograph.
Two children stood together.
A six-year-old boy.
Me.
And beside me, a twelve-year-old girl with brown hair and a purple bracelet.
Her arm was wrapped protectively around my shoulders.
I touched the picture.
Something inside my mind broke open.
Rebecca crying.
Rebecca packing.
Rebecca shouting from the hallway.
"Don't leave Danny alone with her!""
Then my mother's voice.
"Get in the car.""
I dropped the photograph.
"Oh God.""
Robert started crying.
"I should've listened.""
"What happened after she left?""
"I was told Helen took her temporarily.""
"Told by who?""
He looked at me.
I already knew.
"Mom.""
He nodded.
"Then Margaret said Rebecca didn't want contact. She showed me letters.""
"Letters?""
"Years of them.""
Something about his expression made my stomach turn.
"Do you still have them?""
Robert walked upstairs.
He returned carrying an old cardboard box.
Inside were dozens of envelopes.
All supposedly from Rebecca.
I opened one.
Then another.
Same handwriting.
Same phrases.
Same neat signature.
Robert whispered, "She wrote every Christmas.""
I compared the handwriting to Sarah's old letter.
Then I remembered the childhood notes from beneath the stairs.
The shape of the letters.
The strange curl on the R.
My hands went cold.
"Dad.""
"What?""
"Rebecca didn't write these.""
Robert stared at me.
"How can you know that?""
I pulled one of my childhood punishment notes from my pocket.
I had taken it from the tin.
I placed it beside Rebecca's supposed letter.
The handwriting matched.
Not mine.
Margaret's.
Robert stumbled backward.
For nearly thirty years, my mother had been writing fake letters from the daughter she'd driven away.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
"Hello?""
Nobody spoke.
"Hello?""
Finally, a woman's voice whispered:
"Daniel?""
My heart stopped.
"Who is this?""
A pause.
Then:
"It's Rebecca.""
I couldn't breathe.
But her next words were even worse.
"Don't look for Mom.""
I gripped the phone.
"Why?""
May you like
Rebecca's voice trembled.
"Because she's already coming to find me.""
