For the second time in a week, we sat in a circle and drank until we couldn't stand upright. We asked questions we didn't have answers to and debated over how to ask our mother this awful question. Does she know about his other family?
We couldn't decide which would be worse, her knowing and not putting an end to it or her having absolutely no idea.
Ryan and I decided to stay in our old room while Gus took the couch. I thought my brain would keep me up but the alcohol quickly dragged me into a deep sleep.
I woke up with a pounding headache and the worst cotton mouth. Ryan was already up and had left a glass of water on the nightstand. I flop my arm across my face to shield the blinding sunlight and my brain slowly unfogs. I look down to see myself wrapped up in cream silk. A borrowed button-down pajama set of Margot's keeps me cool and the events of last night settle over me.
Austin and I know we can't keep this to ourselves and act as if nothing has changed. We know we need to confront both our mother and father, but we have no idea how to. I drag myself to the bathroom and once I have brushed my teeth and washed my face I look to myself in the mirror.
I look how I feel. My eyes are puffy from drinking, my face is blotchy from the lack of water and I look pale from the exhaustion. My hair is limp and could use a root touch up and my eyes convey how my soul feels. Dull.
Ryan comes into the room and I see him streak by the bathroom door that I have cracked. I pull it open and look to him, dressed in borrowed running clothes.
"Needed to go run off the remaining alcohol?" I ask him.
He nods, "I needed to go run off the past month. I think I have aged 10 years in 10 days." I laugh as he slumps into the wicker chair they have pushed into the corner of the room.
"I completely understand," I tell him. "I don't know where my to-do list starts anymore. I feel like I start down a path and then life is like, nope! Wrong direction." I cross the room to drop onto the edge of the bed and he looks me over. I see his face scrunch for a second before he says, "It's weird to see you in fancy silk pajamas."
"You prefer me in your old shirts?" I ask as I rub my hands down the blue silk. He nods and pushes himself off the chair.
"Gus Ubered home last night. So we can leave whenever you are ready," he tells me and he starts gathering his clothing strewn around the room.
"The only place to go is my mother's. I don't know if I am ready for that," I tell him. I can lounge in Margot's clothing, stay in bed and hide away from the world for a while.
"We can go put some work in on our house, but all of my stuff is at your mother's. We'd need to make a stop there regardless," he tells me while he stuffs his clothes into the black leather duffle he borrowed from Austin.
"Why? Just wear Austin's stuff. He has a whole J.Crew store upstairs," I tell Ryan but he frowns at me.
"Sawyer, I don't mind running in and grabbing a handful of stuff to get us through the next couple of days, but your mother is going to be wondering why we suddenly up and left." He's finally done picking up the room and he turns around to face me. I tuck my knees up into my chest and wonder if I can act normal around my mother. I wonder if she has any club meet-ups today or if she went to town. I might be able to time it so we miss each other.
"My mother might be doing Founder's Day stuff today. She might be out," I say as I push myself off the bed. I find my phone and quickly text her, asking when she was picking up our costumes- trying to be inconspicuous. Ryan is still standing near the door, waiting for me to change but I don't move. I glance to him as he says, "Your mother is horrible at checking her phone. You could be waiting for hours."
As if to spite Ryan, my phone suddenly pings and it's my mother. I smirk at him as I read her text. "She's going the Blackwood's to look at our float and then to Darla's to get our costumes. We have our window!"
***********
When we get to my mother's, Ryan darts upstairs to shower. Austin said he wasn't ready to face her today, so we decided to go work on our house. I am left alone in the foyer and even Celia is out, driving my mother around.
I have lived in this house my whole life but suddenly I am seeing it in a new light. I wonder how many secrets this place holds and I suddenly think of my father's office. Ryan only takes ten minutes to shower and get ready, so I figure I'll snoop while he's busy. I cross to the back of the house, to the room hidden by dark, foreboding French doors. I jostle the handle and push the door open. This room is never locked since this is the room that holds the liquor.
I see my father's bar to the right and glance around the bookshelves that line the room. I remember the frame that hid the safe at the Wellington House, so I quickly peek behind the landscape paintings adorning the walls, seeing if there are any secrets tucked beneath. Only more wainscotting is discovered, so I quickly move on to the desk. I have sat here countless times while using the computer but had never thought to rifle through any drawers. I quickly pull the supplies drawer open, looking for a key or an obvious ah ha! moment. Only pens and envelope cutters lay within the thin drawer, so I pull open the drawers on the right. The first one holds my mother's letterhead paper and fancy fountain pens and stamps. Ink and stamp pads lay neatly next to the stationary so I move on to the next one. A square drawer stuffed with neatly labeled file folders catches my attention. I finger through the files but they seem to be categorized by mother's clubs and the organizations she is a member of. Where are all my father's things?
I am shutting the door when Ryan's voice startles me, making me jump sharply in my seat. My hand flies to my chest as he says, "Didn't mean to startle you." He crosses into the space and looks around, just as I had.
"I didn't find anything," I start. "I mean, I don't actually know what I am looking for. I don't know what proof of another family looks like."
"Do you think your father would leave anything here though? Seeing that he's hardly here?" Ryan asks.
I shrug as I slump back into the seat, "I don't know. I feel like I need to see it for myself. I know Whitney has what she thinks is proof but I need to be sure. I need evidence that doesn't come from someone I despise." Ryan nods but doesn't add anything. I don't know everything he saw. He glances to the bookshelf to his left when I ask, "You're F.B.I. Where would you start looking for evidence."
"All the obvious places. Like you, I would have started in the office, places he spends time." Ryan says as he strides over to the tall gun safe, which is hidden when the door is open. He points to it, "Who has the passcode to this?" Ryan touches the steel wheel that protrudes from the door as I cross over to him. I laugh, "I went straight for the desk when this literal vault is right in front of me."
"I've been in here a handful of times and haven't noticed it," Ryan says as we stare at the keypad.
"It's put behind the door on purpose," I tell him with my hand on my hips. "Austin may know the code. I doubt my mother has any need to get into the gun safe."
"She still may know the code," Ryan suggests but I look to him.
"Hi, mother what is the code to the gun safe? I am just curious in case I wanna borrow the shotgun someday," I say sarcastically. He frowns to me and his eyes tell me he isn't thrilled with my sarcasm, "Let's ask Austin first and go from there." He pulls his phone out and goes to text Austin. I look around the room but don't know where else my father would trust his secrets.
I look back to Ryan, defeated, "Alright, I'll go shower. We can play Sherlock later."
"Your mom is hardly ever gone. If you wanna snoop, this would be the time to do so," he tells me and I know he's right. I can end this now and be done with it or use this as an opportunity.
"I don't know where else to look," I tell him.
"Besides the office is there anywhere else that is primarily your father's? What about the closets or bedrooms."
"My father does have his own closet," I say as I start to rush out the door. Ryan is behind me as I take the stairs two at a time, "I couldn't tell you the last time I went in there." We stride down the long hallway until we reach her bedroom door at the end. I push the door open but Ryan lingers in the doorway. I look behind me when I notice he is no longer following.
"I don't know if your mother would appreciate me in here," Ryan reluctantly tells me.
I roll my eyes, "We've done a hell of a lot worse in half the other rooms up here. I hardly think she would appreciate that but it never stopped you." I catch Ryan blush and he finally crosses the threshold. I lead him to the right of the room and we enter a wide square bathroom. They each have a closet tucked behind a door that sits to the left and right of the clawfoot tub. I lead him left and pull my father's closet door open. I flip the switch and an antique chandelier that sits in the center of the ceiling dimly lights the space.
My father's closet is lined in a dark cherry wood closet system. Neat suits are hung along one wall, while the other holds his button-downs, golfing attire, khaki pants and slacks. Ryan walks toward the back wall, covered in an assortment of shoes neatly lined on shelves, while I walk to the massive dressing table that sits in the center.
"You're right ya know, if he has another house in Dallas, he might not have a need to hide anything here," I tell him as I start rifling through his tie drawer.
"That is a possibility," Ryan says, as he sticks his hand into my father's suit jacket pockets. I lift the lid to his watch box, but I am still unsure what I am looking for. I hear crinkling and look to Ryan, who is flattening out a receipt he found in one of the pockets. I glance at him but he then shakes his head, "Dry cleaning receipt." I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath. I go back to pulling open the table drawers but I am only finding pocket squares, replacement buttons, socks and cufflinks.
"It's weird to be doing this without gloves and evidence bags," Ryan mutters as he pulls a drawer on the opposite side of the table open.
"I might have enjoyed a career in detective work. I kinda find snooping thrilling," I mutter back.
"I was with you when we found Poppy. I don't see you finding the other aspects of the job thrilling."
I glance to him, "True. Sorry, that was the same job that landed you in the hospital." He goes to start fiddling with the shelves to see if anything moves.
"As soon as I found out you were pregnant, I realized I would have had to quit anyway. There's no way I would have been able to compartmentalize. Before you, I had never had to," he says quietly again. I glance to him and realize while he's been fussing over me, I hadn't really asked how he's been doing, having left a huge part of him in New York.
"Do you miss it?" I ask but he doesn't stop rifling as he replies, "No." He doesn't say anything else and I still haven't gotten the full story of what happened in New York. Austin had just told me not to push it. The way he shuts down so quickly makes me think he still isn't ready to open up about those few months. He finally spins around and looks to me as I stand at the table.
"I don't know where else to look," I tell him as my eyes do a once over of the space.
"Look for what?" I hear my mother's voice ask behind me. I spin around and see her standing outside the door frame. I freeze and my brain goes into overdrive. Her eyes dart between us and I see Darla's white garment bag slung over her dainty arm.
"Sawyer wanted me to borrow Mr. Sweeney's uniform embellishments for Saturday," Ryan smoothly says. I stop holding my breath and add, "Yeah, if he's not going to be here I thought we could use some of them."
My mother glances between us and I can't tell if she's bought our lie. Suddenly her face lights up as she says, "First you insist on spiffing up our float and now you want Ryan decked out in military garb. You're finally finding some town spirit, my girl!" She turns around as Ryan and I glance to each other. She stops and frowns to us as she says, "Well come on, I keep all the costume stuff in the guest closet."
I sigh out, knowing I bought myself another day, but I am going to have to come clean soon.