Page 2 of Blood Ties

“Numb Little Bug”—Em Beihold

The first clod of dirt hit the casket and I jumped. When I looked around, I wondered how many people saw me do that. When I did, I made eye contact with my biological father’s wife, Jade. The coldness in her eyes sent a shiver down my spine worse than the icy wind that cut to my bones. Her blood-red lips made a slight curl of derision and I frowned.

I’d never done anything to the woman and yet I could tell she hated me. Maybe it was because over the last year since I’d found my biological father, we’d become close and spent a lot of time together. She seemed selfish of his time and usually pouted when we did something she didn’t want to do. In the end, we did most things without her.

Now he was dead.

This wasn’t fair.

I’d only just found him.

Considering I’d lived the majority of my life not knowing who either of my biological parents were, I shouldn’t be this attached so quickly. Should I? Was that normal? I had no idea. I’d never really felt “normal” anyway.

What I did feel was heartbroken. We should’ve had so many more years together. He was so young. Only forty-seven. From what he and I had pieced together, my mother had been young, and they had a brief affair. I think that was code for one-night stand, because he said he wasn’t exactly sure who she was. He’d been engaged to his first wife, and my mother hadn’t wanted a kid, so up for adoption I went.

Don’t get me wrong, I had no complaints about my life. My adoptive parents were good to me and I loved them. They were open and believed I had a right to know I was adopted. Mom and Dad always said I was extra loved because they wanted me so much. They’d offered to come with me today, but I hadn’t thought it was right. Now I wished they were here.

People started offering Jade condolences and her expression immediately morphed to one of utter devastation. Truthfully, this funeral was all for her benefit. Justin had been cremated. The coffin they buried contained his urn—to fulfill his wishes. He hadn’t wanted the coffin—that was all Jade.

“We’re so sorry for your loss.”

“He was such a good man.”

“He will be greatly missed.”

They went on and on, but no one said anything to me. That was my cue to leave. With the black layers of my dress blowing in the bitter wind, I walked over the snow-crusted, uneven ground toward the road where I had parked with the rest of the cars.

A profound sadness hit me as I opened the door of my Porsche Macan, and I cast one last glance back.

Jade gave me another glare. Then she dissolved into tears, and Justin’s personal assistant pulled out a handkerchief for her.

Heart heavy, I got in and started my car, then I drove away. It seemed so final. Oh, who was I kidding? It was. He was gone.

Tears fell the whole way home.

I drove back to my loft condo, parked in the parking garage across the street. Wrapping my scarf around my neck, I made sure it covered my nose. I pulled my coat tighter around my body and trudged up to my place.

Still sniffling, I changed into an old T-shirt and a baggie pair of bib-overalls. Then I used a bandana to pull back my jet-black hair. I opened the massive industrial windows and let the cold air hit me. I needed the rush of fresh air and I’d soon be sweating so I’d appreciate the cool breeze.

With a sad scan, I wished it was spring and I was watering all my flowers I normally had on the oversized ledges outside.

For a few moments, I stood there. Eyes closed and face to the sun, I let it shine its weak rays on me as I ran through the last year and the time I’d been able to spend with Justin—my biological father. In my mind, I heard the sound of birds carried through the air as they twittered and landed in one of my flower beds before they took off again.

Though I knew it wasn’t real, it comforted me to know that spring would eventually arrive and with it, new life.

My phone rang, making me open my eyes, and I went looking for it. It was on my bed with my clothes and my purse. A smile lit my face at the caller. I didn’t know how she always knew I needed to hear her voice.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, baby. Are you okay?”

As I sat on the edge of the mattress, my eyes caught on the small framed photo of me and Justin. I kept it near the larger one of me and my parents. Side by side, the similarities between us were uncanny—same bright blue eyes, same midnight black hair, same smile. I sighed. “Yes, and no. Does that even make sense?”

“Of course it does. He was a part of you, and I think you’d grown to love him. It would be an extremely emotional time for anyone with a heart.”

A flash of my “stepmother” went through my mind. I snorted. “Yeah, everyone except his wife. I still don’t know why he was married to her.”

My mom laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you do. She was very beautiful, and he was in the spotlight often. She looked good on his arm and I’m sure he was very much in love with her.”

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