“Thank you—”
Cecily held up her hand. “Do not say that. God, I don’t even know why I care. Why should I protect you? What the fuck, Kaitlyn? What the fuck?”
“I can explain.”
“There’s no way you can explain any of this.”
“You’re right. I probably can’t.”
“You’re alive. My God. You’re alive.”
“I’m alive.”
Cassie’s eyes were wide, and she looked as if she was trying to speak. She leaned against her mother. Cecily put her arm around Cassie’s shoulder. Her eyes narrowed at Kate.
“You ran away?”
“I ran away.”
“Stop doing that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Cassie, go upstairs.”
“But Mom—”
“Go upstairs right now. Do not tell your brother who’s here. Tell him to stay in his room. And do not text anyone or call anyone or do anything online.”
“Mom—”
“Do it now, Cassie.”
Cassie looked frightened by her mother’s tone. She turned on her heel and ran up the stairs. A door slammed.
“How dare you?” Cecily spat out the words.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that. You were my friend.”
“I had to go, Cecily. I can’t explain it; I just had to.”
“Because of Tom?”
“What? Omigod, no. Not . . . You know about that?”
“I know about that. I know about that now.”
Kate backed up until she hit the front door. “I’ll go.”
“You’re not getting off that easily. You, what, ran away, let us all think you were dead, and now you’re back? What the fuck is going on? Why are you here?”
“Franny Maycombe. She’s the reason I came back.”
“Seriously? I should’ve known you were capable of doing something like this when I found out you hid her from us. How could you do that, Kaitlyn? How could you not even tell me that you had a daughter? After everything I shared with you?”
“But I didn’t. That’s why I’m here. Franny’s not my daughter.”
“What?”
“I swear to God. I’ve never seen that woman in my life.”
INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT
TJ: Thanks for coming in again, Franny. It’s been a couple weeks. How are you?
FM: I’m fine. I’m good, actually. Really good.
TJ: I’m glad to hear that.
FM: I’ve been thinking about our last conversation, you know.
TJ: You have?
FM: Yeah, like, a lot. And I just want to make it clear that my family—my adoptive family—they have nothing to do with this. Nothing to do with who I am today or what I’m about.
TJ: I find it interesting that you’d say that.
FM: I’m not sure what you mean.
TJ: Well, everyone’s a product of their family, aren’t they?
FM: I don’t think so.
TJ: Why not?
FM: I think you can, you know, overcome your family. Like, there are people who had terrible childhoods, just the worst, but they’re out in the world acting like normal people. They’re not drug dealers or whatever. They have jobs and families and they’re doing things. Normal things. So they didn’t get caught by their circumstance.
TJ: Is that what you did?
FM: Maybe. I mean, I don’t want you to think my adoptive parents were bad or anything. They didn’t, like, abuse me. But like I said before, there was always this different thing about me in that house, like I was a guest who stayed too long, like I should be looking for somewhere else to live.
TJ: Are you sure about that?
FM: Of course I am. I mean, my sister even said that to me when I was a junior in high school. Like she expected me to move out right after graduation, even though she hadn’t, because then our parents didn’t have any responsibility for me anymore.
TJ: That sounds cruel.
FM: She was cruel. I’m telling you. That’s why we don’t talk anymore.
TJ: Yes, well, that’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.
FM: What do you mean?
TJ: We’ve spoken to Sherrie.
FM: What? Why would you do that?
TJ: It’s standard background procedure.
FM: What gives you the right?
TJ: You did, actually. When you signed the release to do the documentary, you gave us permission to speak to any member of your family who would agree to speak to us.
FM: No one told me about that clause.
TJ: You had the contract for two weeks. You were encouraged to speak to a lawyer, to have them review it.
FM: I couldn’t afford to do that.
TJ: I’m sorry, you should’ve said.
FM: I wish you hadn’t done that.
TJ: Spoken to Sherrie?
FM: Yes. She . . . She said bad things about me, didn’t she?
TJ: I wouldn’t say that, exactly—
FM: She’s always been a liar. And she hates me. You know that, right? I told you. I just told you how mean she was to me.
TJ: That doesn’t quite add up—
FM: I knew that if she had the chance, she’d find a way to screw this up for me.
TJ: Screw what up for you?
FM: My life. She just wants me to be miserable because she’s miserable.
TJ: Again, I don’t think that . . . Don’t you want to know what she told me?
FM: It’s just all going to be lies. She’s a liar. She has been since we were kids. Always saying I was the one who hit her or took her toy or whatever. You name it. The names she would call me.
TJ: Yes, the subject of names did come up.
FM: What do you mean?
TJ: You tell me, Franny. Or should I say Eileen?
PART
III
CECILY
It took me six hours to get home on October tenth. When the immediate threat was cleared, they started running the trains, one at a time, packed to the gills as if we were in Tokyo. Police in riot gear checked each of us as we got on, searching through our purses, verifying IDs. It took forever and reminded me of a book I’d read years ago called Jessica Z., about a young woman struggling to find her place in a world where acts of terror had become quotidian. Was this just the beginning, a complete shift in the way we had to live now, or was it simply a gas explosion as the rumors on the platform said?
When the doors to the train finally closed, I realized Teo was still with me. I hadn’t thought about it as we shuffled through the line, but it was doubtful we were going to the same place.
“Is this your train?” I asked.
“Close
