Ainsley got us some wine and cheese. I waved to Greta, the director, who flashed me a huge smile. She was talking to someone but held up a finger to indicate I was to wait.
Other than Greta, I didn't know a lot of people here, and the familiar awkwardness fell over me. I smiled at a woman who taught computer basics. We'd both taught here for years, but I couldn't remember her name, and the window for asking had closed.
"Okay," Ainsley said, "I see four guys with teardrops. Are you sure it means what you said?"
"Very sure."
"Kate! Oh, my God, it's so good to see you! I was so sorry to hear about your husband."
It was Pierre, one of my less egregious parolees (no teardrop, in other words). We hugged, and I introduced him to Ainsley.
"So what did you do?" Ainsley said. "I know, I know, I'm not supposed to ask, but tell me anyway."
Pierre smiled. "I stole a hundred and seventeen cars. Chop-shopped them. Nice profit margin, I gotta say."
Then I heard Daniel's voice, and an unexpected rush of happiness filled me. Yay for Ainsley for making me look hot and wear heels and a dress that wasn't black. Daniel and I could talk and pal around, and I wouldn't feel so strange.
Oh. He was here with a False Alarm.
Right.
I'd forgotten about them. And like all of them, she was young (it pained me to think half my age, but we were getting there). A redhead, in a skirt so short I had no idea how she'd sit.
Well, that was Daniel for you. This was what (and who) he did.
"Kate?" I turned. It was Paige. "What are you doing here?" she asked.
God, she was rude. Had it always been like that? "I'm supporting the Re-Enter Center with both my money and my presence," I said. "And you?"
"I teach here now. A class on appeals. Daniel talked me into it."
Did he? I found that a little hard to believe. Then again, she was a lawyer, and most of our clients could probably use some legal advice.
She turned to Ainsley. "Hi, I'm Paige Barnett."
"I'm Ainsley, Kate's sister. We've met at least ten times, and you never remember me." Love for my sister and gratitude for her forthright ways flooded through me.
"Have we? Well." Paige turned back to me. "You look...good."
I didn't respond with a similar compliment, just took a sip of crappy wine and stared at her.
She huffed. "Whatever, Kate." With that, she left, sauntered over to Daniel and squeezed his arm. Tilted her head against his shoulder and fake-laughed, her eyes on me.
"I always hated her," Ainsley said.
"You know what?" I said suddenly. "I'm starving. Are you starving?"
"I am indeed."
"Let's go somewhere." I waved to Greta, pointed at my watch as if I had somewhere else to be, and a second later, Ainsley and I were out on the street, walking down Flatbush Avenue toward where we'd parked. I glanced over my shoulder. Daniel was not following us. Not that he even knew we were there.
We got into the car, and Ainsley didn't ask questions, didn't grill me, didn't judge me.
"You're such a good sister," I said, looking out my window, a little embarrassed at my statement. A second later, I felt her hand in mine.
"So are you," she said. The spike pierced my throat.
"Not really."
"Oh, yes, you are."
"I wish I could do it over," I said, swallowing. "I was so jealous of you-Dad's favorite, the cute one, the boyfriend who adored you."
"Oh, my God, I'm so jealous of you! The smart one, the cool one, the one who had a real career." She glanced at me. "Seriously. I was jealous of Nathan, even. You got the best guy in the world."
There was the spike again. "I should've been nicer to you."
"I was the other woman's kid," she said. "You were allowed to have mixed feelings." She was quiet for a minute, negotiating the streets with ease. "You know, you never told me to bug off," she said. "It must've been irritating, having a little kid always knocking on your door. But you always let me in. You brushed my hair, you did my nails, you let me tag along with you, you came to see me at college, you invited me over. And I'm living with you! You're a great sister."
"I loved your mother," I said unexpectedly, and again, the tears that were locked in my chest gave a mighty kick, wanting to get out.
"Really?" Ainsley smiled at me, delighted. "What do you remember? Oh, shit, the guy almost hit me. Watch it, idiot! Where are we going, anyway?"
I directed her to a rooftop bar in SoHo where I'd photographed an engagement party. The views of the city were breathtaking, and we managed to get a table by some miracle. The crowd was too sophisticated to be overly rowdy, so we could really talk.
"Should we call our worthless brother and see if he wants to come?" Ainsley suggested.
"Nah. Let's just have it be us sisters." I paused. "Do you think he's worthless?"
She shrugged. "Not really. Not to you."
It dawned on me that Sean was pretty worthless where Ainsley was concerned. I started to apologize for him, then stopped, as always torn between loyalty to my family of origin and sympathy for Ainsley, the outsider.
"Ooh! A lavender martini! I'm definitely getting that."
For a very long time, I'd seen Ainsley's übercheer as a character flaw, hiding some shallowness. Now, suddenly, I saw how thick her skin was, how much energy and strength it took to be so forgiving, and so happy, and so...nice all the time.
"This is so great," I said. "Thanks for making me shower."
We ordered a martini apiece and some appetizers. Tomorrow, I was photographing a newborn baby and his parents in one of those let's all get naked and remind this child how he got started and then hide the portrait once he turns six shoots. I could use a drink.
The waiter brought our food, and we devoured it in true O'Leary fashion. One of the things about grief-my appetite sucked, and I was looking a little skeletal these days. But tonight, I was hungry, and the food tasted like food.
"It's so pretty here," Ainsley said, looking over SoHo, the pretty cornices on the building across the way, One World Trade Center looking a bit like a narwhal, its antenna piercing the low-hanging clouds. "We should do this more."
"We should," I said, and unlike a thousand times in the past when I'd said just that, it felt real this time. Like we'd really do it.
"So. Tell me about my mom," she said, folding her hands.
I took a sip of my drink. "Well, she was really pretty, which you already know. And so nice. She never bossed Sean and me around when we went over, and she always made something fun for dinner." Was this the first time I'd ever told her this? Shame on me.
"Like what?"
"Oh, macaroni and cheese, but the homemade kind, with these crazy curly noodles. And she bought special place mats for us. Sean's had the solar system on it, and mine had these cute chickens on it."
"Did she like you? I mean, she was pretty young to be a stepmom."
"She was great. She was like this cool aunt. Not like Aunt Patty, who tells you about her irritable bowel syndrome the second she sees you."
"Yeah, I know way too much about her colon."
"Michelle really loved you," I said, remembering. "She'd hold you for no reason, even if you were asleep. And she shared you. She let me play with you and hold you, and she always took pictures of the two of us, and the three of us, and the next week, there they'd be, in a frame."
"What happened to them?" Ainsley asked.
I frowned. "I don't know. I thought you had them."
"No. I don't think I've ever seen them."
We both sat in silence, thinking the same thing. Of course our father didn't know. He couldn't find the butter without help. That left my mother, and it was totally in her character to toss the photos from her husband's other wife, other life.
Ainsley looked away. "I guess if Candy threw them out, I... I don't know. She'd have her reasons."
"No, she wouldn't. She'd find some way to justify it, but she'd only do it because she was so jealous. Your mother was lovely, and it drove my mom crazy."
Ainsley's eyes widened. That's right. I'd done it; jumped the breach and said what was true. Because Ainsley had been so wonderful these past horrible weeks. She didn't just say words; she came through, damn it. I took another sip of my drink, enjoying the buzz and the honesty it seemed to bring out. "I don't blame Dad for leaving."
"Don't say that," Ainsley said. "He cheated on Candy. That wasn't right. And she took him back-and took me in. That was superhuman."
"She could've done better by you, Ainsley."
"She did well enough. I mean, she doesn't hate me. And I don't hate her." She paused. "I kind of love her."
"I loved your mom, too. And I love you, too. Even if you are Dad's favorite."