For a long moment after the police cars pulled away, no one spoke. The living room felt different now, smaller. The carefully arranged furniture, the family photos on the mantle, the fresh flowers Patricia had set out, all of it looked like a stage set after the play had ended.
Aunt Margaret was the first to move. She rose from her chair and walked toward me, tears streaming down her face.
Evelyn.
Her voice broke.
I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you. I should have. I should have asked.
You did
You didn’t know.
She took my hands in hers.
You’re my niece and I just I believed her. I always believed her.
Cousin Brian approached next.
I can’t believe she actually that she would.
He couldn’t finish the sentence.
She did.
I said it simply. No anger, just fact.
One by one, they came to me. Uncle Thomas, Michelle, the others. apologies, shock, disbelief. Some couldn’t look me in the eye. Some couldn’t stop looking as if seeing me for the first time.
“Whatever you need,” Uncle Thomas said. His voice was gruff, but his eyes were wet.
“Legal fees, a place to stay. The family will help. The real family.”
“I thought about that word, family. What it meant, what it should mean. Thank you,” I said. But I need some time to figure out who my real family is.
No one argued.
I walked out the front door into the February sunlight. The cold air felt clean after the suffocating warmth inside.
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