August 1960
Emeraude's POV
"When did you first start to realise it,Emmy?" My best friend, Joan, asked me.
I sighed, shrugging. "Maybe when I was about fifteen? I heard mum and dad having an argument one night, so I sat at the top of the stairs and listened. Mum was crying and screaming at dad, and then he said something about a man called Jim, and mentioned Liverpool."
"Liverpool?" Joan repeated in shock. I nodded. "Liverpool, New York?"
I shook my head, my blonde hair dancing in the bright light of the California sun. We'd moved to Cali when I was eight, and ever since then, I'd been in love with the place - though I didn't like the hot weather too much... I preferred it cold and damp. I preferred wearing long skirts to miniskirts, and I definitely didn't like -
"So how'd it happen, then?"
I knew she would ask this, so I opened my bag and pulled out the envelope with my letter inside, handing it to her. "It's from my brother, Paul."
"You have a brother?!"
Joan was an only child, and had always yearned for siblings.
"Two, apparently." I replied in a wry tone. "Paul - we share the same birthday, but he was born in 1942, a year before me... and then there's Mike, who was born in January 1944."
"Wow," Joan said as she took the letter from its envelope and opened it, "you're all close in age, then?"
I nodded. "Paul and Mike's mum must have been pregnant when Jim met my mum... it's kind of despicable to think that somebody would cheat on their pregnant wife, isn't it?"
"It's despicable to think that somebody would cheat on their wife at all."
"Well," I said in a reasonable tone, somehow slightly offended because she had indirectly insulted the man who had fathered me - the man who was a part of me - "I'm sure he had good reason to."
Joan just rolled her eyes at me, knowing that this wasn't her fight to win. She began to read the letter.
18th June 1961
Dear Emeraude,
Happy birthday! You don't know who I am, but we share the same birthday, apparently... and a parent. My dad, Jim McCartney, is your real dad. He fathered you in New York City and then left to come home to us in Liverpool, England.
I'm sorry that that was really abrupt, but I just had no idea to phrase it. I don't know if you already knew about your dad and mine, but I was just told today... Apparently my dad thought it was time.
So we're brother and sister, technically. My name's Paul and I was born 18th June 1942. You also have another little brother, our kid Mike, who was born 7th January 1944. We're all quite close in age which is nice, I suppose.
Anyway, your mum told dad that she would write when she was ready to tell you, but it's my eighteenth birthday today, and I just knew that I couldn't hold the secret in. I nicked your New York address from dad's bedside drawer but then saw that on the back it had another address for California (which looked a lot newer!)
Wow, imagine living in California with that beautiful sunshine! I've always wanted to own a place in Tucson, Arizona. Don't ask me why.
Right, dad's calling me for dinner now so I have to go... I'm sorry if I freaked you out with this letter, but I felt that you had a right to know, and that we have a right to know each other. I hope you want to get to know me.
All my best,
Your brother Paul
By the end of the letter, Joan's jaw had dropped to the ground at our feet. She looked up at me and had to process her words for several seconds before she asked, "d-does your dad know about this?"
"He's in Liverpool." I said.
"Jim?"
"No." I replied, "Kevin."
"Both of your dads are in Liverpool?" Joan asked in surprise.
"Dad's there looking for a house for us to move into."
"You're moving away!?" Her eyes began to fill with tears.
I sighed. Joan could be so over dramatic.
"I think it'd do me some good." I told her. "To live closer to my brothers, Paul and Mike, and to be away from here -"
Joan put a hand on my shoulder. "I know you think it would be better to leave here, but you'll miss it. You'll miss Cali, and me and your mum, and -"
"My mum is dead, Joan!" I yelled. "It doesn't matter where I go, because she won't be coming with me!"
Joan flinched at my loud tone.
"D-did you put the idea into your dad's head?"
I laughed a high, unnatural laugh and then I glared at her.
"What makes you think I would do something like that?"
"Because you're sly and manipulative and you do anything and everything you can to get whatever it is that you want." Joan replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "And it's just the kind of thing that you'd do -"
"Joan." I put a hand on either of her shoulders so that we were looking into each other's eyes, "my dad is in Liverpool looking for a house by coincidence. I didn't even have the letter when he left. It came just a few days ago. He'll be back in a week and -"
"Are you going to tell him?"
I shook my head, absolutely sure that telling my dad that we were going to be moving to the same city as that of my biological father and his wife and two sons was not a good idea.
"We'll be gone in a few weeks, Joan." I told her, "he'll find out soon enough."
"It won't end well, Emeraude." She warned me in a low tone.
"It doesn't have to." I paused, "I heard some of the things that Kevin said to my mum in the years before she died - he called her horrible things, Joan. I don't know if I want to live the rest of my life being nice to a man who could call her such horrible names. If it ends badly, then I'll have Paul and Mike and Jim, and if it ends well then I'll hopefully have all four of them."
"And Jim has a wife," Joan reminded me, "maybe she'll be like another mother to you?"
I sighed. "Nobody could ever replace my mother."
It had been nearly four months since she had wrapped our car around the tree at the bottom of our estate - I'd been in the car at the time.
"Of course not." Joan wiped her eyes and then hugged me, "best of luck to you, Emeraude Fisher-McCartney."
"If Jim gives me his blessing then I'd like to change it to Emeraude McCartney." I told her.
Joan gave me an encouraging smile. "Any man'd be lucky to have you as his daughter, Emeraude McCartney."
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