Her dad chuckles, but doesn’t let her go. She is probably shaking still. I know I am. How is she so brave?
“You just wait,” her dad tells her, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with infinite affection as he looks at her, and I melt.
She has his honey brown eyes, I think for the second time. Now that they are standing side to side, the resemblance is striking. She has his facial structure. Manuela and Faith must have gotten theirs from their mom. Maybe Eden gets her slight build from her as well.
“You just wait until you meet this wonderful lady,” her dad says, looking at Mom. “Then we will see who is the worst crier in this family then, Paradise.”
He calls her‘Paradise’. I think I might just die.
I want to look away, but I can’t. A quiet sound like a whimper escapes me and Faith elbows me in the ribs. Hard. While still holding me up.
“This is Mrs. Pan,” Walter says, walking up to my mom with Eden by his side. “Isaiah’s mother.”
“Please, call me Lin,” Mom says to Eden.
Eden opens her mouth and nothing comes out. She suddenly turns paper-white, and I jump forward to catch her. Faith’s fingers dig into my arm, holding me back. Eden does not faint. She grits her teeth, visibly swallowing, and flutters her eyelids as if she’strying to clear her vision. Mom enfolds her in one of her sweet mom-hugs, and Eden’s rigid body visibly relaxes.
“Jesus, I can’t watch,” I murmur, and turn around to hide my face against Faith’s shoulder.
“She’s doing great,” she whispers in my ear with pride in her voice.
“Of course she is.”
Behind me, Mom’s gentle, musical voice is talking to Eden, calming her down.
I turn away, give them some space. It kills me to stay away from Eden, but I let Mom and her dad talk to her over in a corner, while I somehow manage to stay with her sisters.
I have gotten to know them a lot these past few hours. I have learned that Faith is a medical doctor currently completing her residency in hematology, and Manuela teaches English Literature at a high school. She and Justin have a tiny son. Justin took time off work as well, and they hired a babysitter, in order to be here today. He is so supportive of Manuela, his eyes searching hers every few minutes, just to make sure she is ok. I ask what Walter does for a living, and I find out he is an English Literature professor as well—at Michigan State.
“That actually makes so much sense,” I murmur, smiling, as I think of Eden’s love for the classics—and for books, in general.
The more I learn about Walter, the more I understand her, which makes sense. He is where she comes from. She… The version of her I met all these years ago did not have a father. The thought hits me all over again like a knife in the gut. It will never stop destroying me. Every few hours, I manage to sort of forget all the horrible stuff and pretend that Eden is just a girl I lost and am only now getting back.
And then reality comes at me like a sucker punch, nearly knocking me off my feet.
“Would it be ok if you talked a little bit about your mom?” I ask Faith and Manuela, and they exchange a look. Both their faces light up at the same time.
“Oh, it would,” Manuela says, her voice going back to that soft, tender tone that she only used to her Dad before.
“We’d love that,” Faith adds.
It turns out that their mother is their favorite subject to talk about. There is pain there, and grief, but it’s not raw and bitter like mine. It’s not traumatic like Eden’s. It’s just something that time has turned into sweetness, strength and, dare I say it? Identity.These girls know who they are, and their bond with each other as well as their bond with both of their parents seems to be a big part of that.
I sit back and listen, drinking it all in.
Letting it heal me. Well, not completely. But it’s a start.
…
“Excuse me.”
My eyes fly to Eden’s face as she abruptly gets up and leaves the room. At first she’s just walking hurriedly away, but by the time she disappears out the front door, she is running at full speed. Pooh starts to follow, his little feet tap-tapping on the floor, but Faith grabs him and tries to calm him down.
Without thinking, I get up and run after her. It’s only when I reach her as she is unlocking the door, that I realize it: no one else moved to go after her. They all let me go to her, by myself, as if they’ve all agreed silently, without having to even talk about it, that I should be the one to go after her. Take care of her. As if they trust me to do so.
Do they know how utterly useless I am? Do they know that I am the least equipped person in this room to help her? Do they know what kind of an utter loser I have been during these past four years, while they were all fighting for her like her warriors?
“Eden!” I call, but she is already running down the front steps. I run after her. “Eden!”