“What are you talking about? What is she talking about, Angie?” I ask her, exasperated, trying to withstand anything Hillary throws at me next about Cal.
“I-I don’t know,” Angie says, looking as surprised as I am.
“You better sit down,” Hillary tells me gently.
“What?” I ask her, looking for a brief moment at Angela, who seems genuine.
Hillary sits next to me before she begins. “You remember last month when I went to my aunt’s birthday?” she says slowly.
“What does that have to do with this?” I ask anxiously, feeling extremely frustrated as well.
“Let me finish,” she says, looking me in the eye.
I fold my arms and listen, hoping it’s not another load of criticism.
“When I went, my cousin was showing off how her daughter was homecoming queen, and you know, small town, it made the paper… and while I was looking through it, I saw this,” she says, pulling out a piece of newspaper. She hands it to me.
I read the headline and shrug. “It’s a newspaper from Madison. That’s, like, about two counties away from Saginaw… what does this have to do with anything?” My mind reels with confusion.
“Open it up, the second page. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”
I roll my eyes and open it, scanning the page. My eyes land on a picture that makes my heart stop. There’s a picture of Cal with an older man. I read the caption under it:
Former Madison High alum, Chris Scott, poses with his father, William Scott, after annual pie eating contest.
“Hillary, what the hell is this?” My voice is trembling, my eyes glued to the picture.
“Lauren, what is it?” Angela asks, her voice filled with worry.
“I asked my aunt about him. He played football against her son. He was pretty good. His mom’s name is Gwen. They met through some sport fundraisers,” Hillary reveals quietly.
“No…” I say, slowly shaking my head defiantly. “No! This isn’t him! It can’t be!” I throw the paper down.
Angela grabs it, and I watch her face drop.
“Lauren, pictures don’t lie! He’s been lying to you this entire time! Now do you understand why I’m so angry and frustrated with you? I’m trying to help you! He’s not who he says he is!” Hillary urges, but the anger from her expression has dissipated.
I feel as if I’m going to throw up.
“Tell her, Angie! Is that Cal or not?” Hillary demands, taking the picture and shoving it in front of Angela’s eyes.
I very slowly and carefully sit on the floor. It can’t be him. It wouldn’t make sense. Cal wouldn’t be in some small-town pie eating contest. That’s not why he left me. He’s in danger or in some type of trouble, not this.
“Lauren, this looks a lot like him,” Angela says quietly.
“Looks? That is him!” Hillary screeches.
Angela sits in front of me. “Lauren, you said Cal was adopted. Maybe that’s his brother, his twin brother…”
“A biological twin brother that he never mentioned with the same last name as his adopted parents? Give me a break. He’s a con. He’s living a double life,” Hillary says with a frustrated groan.
“Hillary, shut up for a minute!” Angela yells.
I start to feel dizzy and hot, my vision blurring for a few seconds and clearing. “I need… I need some water.” I get up and make my way to the kitchen.
“Lauren, are you okay?” Angela asks, grabbing my shoulder.
Her voice… their voices… are so loud, pounding in my ears, and when I turn around, her face becomes blurry. I feel off balance and fall. Angela grabs me before I completely hit the floor.
“Hillary, get her some water! Lauren, listen to me. You hear my voice?” Angie takes the newspaper and begins to fan my face.
“Oh my God, what’s wrong with her?”
“I think she’s in shock, that’s all.”
I hear their voices, but I can’t even tell them apart. I feel as if I’m drunk. I’m trying to wrap my mind around what I’ve just seen. It looked like him. The article even used his last name… but it can’t be. It just wouldn’t make sense. His name isn’t Chris!
“Lauren, say something, sweetie. You’re scaring us,” Hillary says, her voice full of regret as she puts the cup of water in my hand.
When I lift it to my lips and take a drink, they both let out a sigh of relief.
“I’m such a bitch. I shouldn’t have told you this way,” Hillary scolds herself. “I just couldn’t stand watching you care for this jerk.”
“You should have told me as soon as you found out,” I whisper, setting the glass down. They’re both looking at me as if I’m dying. I cover my face. “Let me see the paper again,” I mumble, willing myself not to cry.
Angela looks skeptical but hands it to me. I look at the picture again, his face… he’s smiling widely, holding a trophy with the older man next to him. He looks so happy and different. This person has his face and even his last name, but there’s something different. I just can’t figure it out. If this is him, everything he’s told me has been a lie. I’ve been an idiot sitting around thinking he’s in some kind of trouble, but why there? Why in some little county that can’t be bigger than my own hometown? I expected Cal to be in New York or LA or even some foreign city—not there. And he told me he and his parents were estranged. This doesn’t add up. I need answers now!
I stand and look at them both. They look so worried. I slip on my nearby flip-flops and grab my keys.
“I need one of you to stay here and let Raven know what’s going on,” I say, going to the closet and grabbing a jacket.
“Where are you going?” Angela asks worriedly.
“To see the one person who can give me some answers,” I tell them before heading out the door.
“Hi, Lauren! What are you doing here?” Helen asks, looking surprised as she welcomes me in, though I know security has informed her of my presence. “What’s wrong?”
“Where’s Dexter?” I demand.
“He’s… he’s in his office. Lauren, what’s wrong?” she asks again, concerned, as I storm down the hall toward Dex’s office.
I knock hard two times before going in. Dexter looks up from the phone conversation he’s having, a mixture of surprise and irritation on his face.
“I’ll have to call you back,” he mumbles into the phone before hanging up. “Lauren, this is a surprise.” He stands and moves around the desk to hug me. “How are you? Helen told me what you said, and I’m really glad that—” He stops short as he watches me struggle to pull the newspaper out of my purse.
“You want to explain this to me!” I slam the newspaper on his desk.
He looks at it curiously then picks it up. A wave of emotions cross his face; I see shock, recognition, and then—yep, there it is!—guilt. After a moment, he glances at me, and for once, it looks as though he’s speechless.
“What is this?” he begins, placing a fake grin on his face.
I can’t believe how he can lie to me like this. “Bullshit!”