Page 102 of Versions Of Us

“I don’t remember a time where he didn’t,” she answers, swiping a fresh tear from her eye.

And I don’t remember him as an alcoholic.

“When we first met at the cafe, I thought you hated me,” I tell her. “You were so defensive.”

“I didn’t hate you. I envied you,” she admits.

“You envied me?” I ask dubiously. “Our father abandoned me! He had another child he couldn’t even be bothered to tell us about.”

“I know. But living with our dad has been no picnic for me. He’s a terrible father. You got the better version of him. You got him when he was making a steady income, when he could take care of you. When he loved you.” She pauses. “I got the unemployed drunk.”

Fragments of conversations with Em fight their way to the forefront of my mind.

Did you ever think you knew someone? Only to find out they’re not at all the person you thought they were?

My whole life is a lie.

She’d been referring to Greg Riley. This man that had previously led a completely different life than the one she’d known.

Have you ever stopped to think that maybe he did you a favour?

It makes sense now.

The way she’d reacted toward me at first, the bitter looks she aimed at my mother, her sarcastic comments. We’ve both had two very different upbringings despite sharing the same father.

“What happened to him?”

“I think he’s the only one that can really answer that. The way I understand it is that he went back to my mother after his divorce, but then not too long after that my mum left. A few months before my fourth birthday.” Her bottom lip quivers as she continues. “I don’t really remember her. She was young and too irresponsible to raise a child. But I think when she left…that was when things really went downhill.”

I give her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. I wish I knew you existed.”

“Me too,” she smiles sadly. “I’m sorry I sent the letters. I wanted to punish him. I wanted him to know how much he hurt you.” Another tear falls from her eye, her voice breaking when she asks, “Do you hate me?”

The letters are the least of my worries right now. I’ll admit that when I’d first met this sarcastic grumpy teenager, I’d been suspicious of her motives. I’d been resentful of her, jealous even, of the relationship she has with Henley. But this new information has shed light on her situation.

“I hate the way you felt that you couldn’t just come out and tell me. I hate that you’ve been raised by a shitty father. But I could never hate you.” I take a step toward her and her shoulders sag with relief. “I have a little sister.” It comes out as a whisper, but I feel my face brighten with the realisation.

I’m suddenly overcome with protectiveness and love for this young woman standing before me. As I throw my arms around her neck, she leans into me, her body trembling as she releases a heavy sob. I hold her and for a moment I forget about everything else, but then in a rush it all comes flooding back.

Henley.

Why would Henley keep something like this from me?

This is bigger than the reason he left. This is my own flesh and blood.

“How does our father know who Alex Henley is?” I pull back away from her, brushing a wild, blonde tendril from her face.

She sighs. “That’s a question for Henley himself.”

“I don’t get why he wouldn’t tell me. Why he would offer you a place to stay and kept this huge secret from me.”

“It wasn’t his place to say anything. I told him to keep my secret until I was ready.”

I remember back to the day that I’d met him in the canoe by the river. I’d thought it honourable that he was willing to keep Mackenzie’s secret.

“I guess that’s fair enough.”

“You’ve got to give him a break. He took me in and helped me when I had nothing,” she pleads with me.

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