Skylar Dorset - The Girl Who Never Was

'Of course it's a perfect match,'Kelsey sighs. 'I don't know how you do that.'

'I'm a good best friend,'I tell her.

'That you are.'Kelsey tucks the button into her own pocket. 'You okay, by the way? You seemed quiet in Salem, but I thought you just weren't having a good time. But you don't seem yourself today either.'

'I'm fine,'I say.

But I'm not, of course.

I decide that I have to go see my father. I just have to. I spend a sleepless night worrying about all the questions

in my head and knowing that my aunts will never answer them, but somebody has to. I know my aunts are convinced I should know who I am without knowing anything about my mother, but I feel like I just can't. How can I? And the fact that my aunts are so dead set against it makes me feel like I really have to know. I'm not usually such a brat, but in this case I can't help it. I just have to go see my father. He is not always lucid enough to answer questions like that'the poem about my name being a prime example'but I can at least give it a try.

The day is mostly sunny, although there is a chill in the air, and Ben is doing a brisk business in sweatshirts. I wait impatiently for him to give change to a customer. I haven't seen him glance my way, but as soon as he's done, he turns toward me, his pale eyes sharp.

'What's wrong?'He has obviously immediately seen my agitation.

'I'm going to see my father,'I say.

Ben and I have never discussed anything about our family lives'Ben and I know both everything and nothing about each other'but he doesn't ask me anything about why my father is someone I have to visit. He just says, 'Why?'

'Because I have so many questions, Ben. I don't have a mother''

'Everyone has a mother,'Ben interjects calmly. 'You have a mother; you just don't know your mother.'

It seems like a pointless distinction for him to be making

right now. 'Fine,'I agree. 'Whatever. I don't know her. And no one will tell me anything about her. I have to ask my father. I have to try to ask my father. I have to know. I feel like I have to know. I need to hear the words.'

Ben is silent for a moment. His eyes darken as the sun passes behind a cloud. He says carefully, 'Do you think he'll tell you?'

'I don't know. But I have to try.'

There is another long moment of silence. Ben's eyes search mine. I feel like he is asking me a question that I don't understand.

'What?'I say.

He just shakes his head, and it might be my imagination, me projecting my own emotional upheaval onto him, but I think he looks sad, and on impulse, I hug him. I have never done this before, and the awkwardness of having done it strikes me as soon as it happens, and I let go so quickly that I don't even have time to register how it feels. I am suddenly embarrassed, and I have no idea why I've done it'why am I constantly doing things without thinking?'and I have the fleeting impression that Ben looks surprised before I turn and flee to the subway station like a coward. I am almost relieved when the train predictably gets stuck underground for a little while; it gives my cheeks time to stop burning.

x

I take the Red Line all the way to the Alewife end, where there is a small, nondescript, charming-looking building that you would never know houses the less sane members of Boston's better families.

'Selkie.'The nurse at the front desk smiles at me. I am on a first-name basis with everyone at this place. I have been coming here, after all, for sixteen years. 'Where are your aunts?'She looks past me for them. I have never come alone before.

'Just me this time,'I say confidently, as if this isn't unusual. 'Is my dad around?'It's the most ridiculous question for me to ask. Where else would he be?

'Of course he's here,'she answers, which highlights the absurdity of my question. 'I'll have someone fetch him for you.'

There's a little room where you meet with people. It feels like a pretty little sun porch, filled to the brim with too many flowery patterns on the furniture and the drapes, but you always know that people are watching'politely but close enough to intercede should anything happen. There's a grandfather clock in this room, but it always tells the right time. I find that odd and unsettling.

'Selkie,'says Dad as he walks into the room to see me, and he holds his arms out for a hug, and I hug him back, and he smells vaguely of hospital, which he always does, but that is not a bad smell to me; that is my father's smell. 'What brings you here? Where are your aunts?'

'They're home,'I tell him truthfully. He is holding my hands in his and beaming at me, and I study him, just to make sure he's all right, the way I always do. 'How are you?'

'I'm fine,'he assures me. 'So happy to see you.'

'Good.'I smile, and then I hesitate, trip over my errand, think maybe I should turn around and leave.

Dad notices. His smile turns quizzical. 'Is there something wrong, Selkie?'His expression grows more concerned. 'Aunt True and Aunt Virtue are all right, aren't they?'

'They're fine,'I say. I clear my throat. 'Dad. Can you tell me about Mom?'

He smiles the absently fond smile he has always smiled the few times he has spoken to me about her. 'One day,'he says, 'I walked into my Back Bay apartment to find a blond woman asleep on my couch. The most beautiful woman I had ever seen.'

I am frustrated. I have heard this all before. 'But who was she?'

'The most beautiful woman I had ever seen,'he says. 'And she gave me you, and she told me to name you Selkie.'

'Did you love her?'I ask.

'The most beautiful woman I had ever seen,'he repeats vaguely, his gaze unfocused.

'Why did she leave me, Dad?'I try not to sound like I'm on the verge of tears.

'She couldn't stay in Boston, of course,'he answers, and I am shocked because this is'finally'something new. I think of my aunts, saying that my mother hadn't belonged here.

'Why not?'

'And you were my right,'Dad says fiercely, looking at me.

I blink, startled. 'What does that mean?'

My father's gaze loses the unusual clarity it just had, softens. 'Where are your aunts?'he asks.

'Home,'I answer briefly, trying to get him back to his mood of revelations. 'Didn't she love me?'

'Love you?'he says, as if the words hold no meaning for him, and I am disappointed. I have lost my window of lucidity.

I decide to just give one more question a shot. 'I went to Salem,'I start, reaching into my kangaroo pocket, closing my hand around the ancient pages.

'Salem,'he repeats blankly.

'There was this book,'I continue. 'Well, books,'I amend.

He looks at me, vaguely interested. 'Books,'he says. 'Powerful things, books. All those words, trapped in writing.'

It is so similar to what Will had said at the Which Museum that it gives me pause. I go on slowly. 'Your name was in them'you, Aunt True, Aunt Virtue.'

Dad's eyes sharpen. 'What books?'he asks. 'What books were they exactly?'

'I don't know,'I stammer honestly, taken aback by his reaction. 'I don't remember the names. But look'this is a list of the first settlers of Boston, and you're all listed.'I pull it out, show it to him eagerly.

'We're an old family,'he interjects, and he sounds saner

than I've ever heard him. He looks narrow eyed at the paper I have handed him.

'And then there was this portrait, Dad,'I say, unfolding it, 'this painting, in another book, and it's Aunt True and Aunt Virtue. I mean, look, it's them, but it's from 1760.'I thrust it at him. 'And there was this epic poem, and''

'Blaxton,'Dad cuts me off, and his voice is dangerously quiet. I have never heard him talk that way to me before, and for the first time, I might be scared of him but I think I am more confused.

'Mom?'I say, because she is the only Blaxton I've ever heard of. 'What does she have to do with it?'