Was I deformed? Did he not want me anymore? I self-consciously rubbed the birthmark. “Since I was born. Why?”
His mouth was slack. He lifted both hands from my body and held them suspended in the air. “Because my father has the same one.”
“What?” I furrowed my brows. I could not understand it. What was the problem, we were relatives, right? Oh wait, Helena was my cousin, not Willem. Willem had married into her family. How could I be related to Willem? Ridiculous. “It must be a coincidence.”
Lukas held his body slanted away from mine. He shuffled backward on his feet. “It explains everything, do you not see? Why everyone always thinks you and Pa look alike, how brilliant you both are. Why he always loved you so much.”
I rubbed a hand across my face. I felt stupid. Normally I was the clever one, figuring out the killer in movies long before everyone else. It was like my brain had been packed in cotton and I could not get the gears to turn.
At my silence, he placed his fist against his mouth as if he could not bear to say the words. “That is why my mother always hated you.” His voice broke. “Because you are his child.”
Willem’s daughter? The air was knocked from my lungs. Was I Helena’s daughter, then? Why would she hate me? But I had been born in the United States. I had a birth certificate. Born to Ma. Wait. No. Ma and Willem. It could not be. Lukas was not my distant cousin. He was my half brother.
A mangled cry filled the room, like some pitiful animal was being slaughtered. It was coming from my throat. Everything was blurry. “No!” I pounded my fists against his chest as he held my wrists in his hands.
I fought against him until I collapsed, sobbing, against his chest. He held me to him for a long time until I could breathe again.
Now he took my hand in his and brought it to his lips for a soft kiss against my knuckles. “This does not change anything.”
I pulled it away and tucked it behind my back. I wiped my face, and moved aside so I could look at him. “How can it not?”
A flush stained his cheeks and he could not meet my eyes. “No one knows. We do not have to tell anyone.” His voice seemed to come from across a great distance. “My mother may suspect but she will never say anything, and my pa and your ma have kept it a secret all these years.” He spoke rapidly, trying to convince himself.
I reached out to touch his silky hair. “Lukas. You are the one good thing in my life. My only hope. I will not drag you down with me.”
He cradled my face between his palms. “What do you mean?”
“You finally learned to speak up. I will not bury you in secrets again.”
“Sylvie.” His lips parted and he bent down. I turned so his kiss landed on my cheek.
“Look, this is such a mess.” I forced my voice to sound rational, though it still trembled. I gave him a wan smile. I had to protect him from me. “Neither of us can think clearly right now. Shall we go to sleep and talk in the morning?”
“Do you know it for sure?” He peered at me intently, still so concerned for me, never thinking of himself. He took me by the shoulders. “Are you all right?”
I took a deep breath and shook my hair, straightened my spine. “Yes. Do not worry, I am fine. I am tired and overwhelmed, that is all. I only need some time alone to think and rest. Can you please give that to me?”
He nodded. “Of course, I will give you anything you want, Sylvie.”
“We will talk later, I promise,” I lied. I took a step back as his hands reluctantly released their grip.
I strode toward the door but could not resist one last peek at him. He was so handsome and vulnerable standing there beneath the stark lighting, staring after me with his heart in his eyes.
He swallowed, as if he could barely form the words, and asked, painfully, “Please just tell me one thing. Do you love me?”
At that, I broke and rushed back into his arms. I held him tight. “Forever.”
My lifeline had been cut. From the moment I understood, I knew what I had to do—the long, slow grind of the past few months, Jim, my work, Grandma, and now Lukas. It was enough. Something instinctive and biological took over. He had been my last hope and a part of me had decided long ago that if I lost this final gamble, the game was over.
I scribbled a note for Amy, Ma, and Pa. I was being selfish yet again. I hesitated a moment before signing it, then decided to use my real name. I slid the note and the gifts I had bought for them in Venice into the velvet bag that held Grandma’s jewelry.
I waited until it was late and Lukas had turned out his lights—and told myself, Better a clear break than an eternal desire for someone you could never have, someone you never should have desired in the first place. I could not bear to live wanting and needing him, to watch as he moved on, married someone else. Not all of us were like Amy, made for warmth, love, happiness.
When everything was quiet, I crept across the lawn. The night was bitter and still, the waning moon waiting for the darkness to overwhelm it completely. I opened his door, held the jewelry bag against my cheek for a moment, and then removed my cello and hid the treasure inside the empty case. I wished I could tiptoe upstairs and kiss him one last time.
They had always said I was destined to die by water.
I placed everything that belonged to me inside the small rental car and drove away as quietly as I could. I looked in the rearview mirror as Lukas’s apartment disappeared in the distance. Death did not recognize sweet children. We all had to go, whether we had been good or not. The lies that had sustained me: if I did everything right, I could earn love; if I was perfect enough, I would cheat death. My painful truth: love would always leave me; I did not deserve to be loved. Even a donkey did not stumble over the same stone twice.
All of my designer things, buying into the myth that if you owned the right items, you would belong. That respect and friendship and the right skin color could be purchased. If you were born a dime, you would never become a quarter. When I met Jim, it was like I had finally attained the promised land. I had made it to the foreign shore I had spent so long attempting to reach and been allowed inside, only to find it barren.
This life of mine, given away as a baby. That was the beginning. And now, I was at the end.
I parked in the spot where Lukas and I had picnicked on the banks of the Amsterdam-Rhine Canal. There were a few scattered farmhouses in the distance and all of their windows were dark. I finally understood everything: Helena, Willem, Ma, Pa. How foolish, my hope for Ma and Pa to truly love me. Willem, my father, who took from me the man I desired most.
I was tired of wanting and choosing. Who we truly were and our rational selves were two different entities. The logical part of me knew I did not have to do this—but answers to questions of the heart were inaudible and incomprehensible. We could only feel them, like currents swaying us from beneath the surface, supporting us at their whim, until they decided to grab hold and pull us under.
I took the rosebud from between the pages of the book in my handbag. I pressed it to my lips and inhaled its faded scent. With Lukas, I had felt like I was finally home. The other men who had cared about me only loved the image I projected for them, like a floating helium balloon bound to my wrist by the most tenuous of strings. Lukas had been different. But I would not be like Ma, hiding an essential truth for my entire life.