“Oh, Daph…” Even all the champagne I consumed couldn’t keep my heart from sinking for her.
I loved my mother. And I know that in her mind constantly monitoring our weight was her idea of being a good mother. She’d mentioned more than once that the women on her side of the family struggled with weight, and we had to be vigilant if we wanted to catch a good husband, like she did.
But I'll never forgive her for using her last deathbed talk with her then eight-year-old daughter to make Daphne promise to thin down. She’d actually told my sister that she’d be disappointed in heaven if she turned out fat.
As if heaven would actually let somebody in who chose those words as her last to a child.
I couldn’t say that to Daphne, though. The only thing that would upset her more than the possibility of our dead mom being mad at her in heaven would be the idea of her burning in hell.
So, I just took Daphne by the hand and led her up to her bedroom.
“Everything will feel better after a good sleep,” I assured her as I tucked her into bed.
“Do you think my real mom would be okay with a fat daughter?” she asked.
This birth mom business again. Mom had never hidden Daphne’s adoption from her—we even celebrated her official adoption birthday two days after mine. But Mom had never been forthcoming with the details for us or the family courts. The story was that Daphne had been left on our doorstep with a note from whoever left her: You can take care of this baby. We can’t.
I’d found the original note in mom’s things when I was cleaning out the desk. And that was it.
I’d almost think the trail was completely cold if Daphne didn’t look so much like mom and me. Minus the eyes, anyone would have mistaken her for mom’s blood-related daughter and my sister.
And the more hypothetical questions Daphne asked, the more that resemblance poked at me. Anyway, I didn’t want to get Daphne’s hopes up, but it was on my to-do list to hire a detective to look into finding the identity of her birth mother.
Right after we got through this silly party.
Until then, I answered my little sister’s question with the easiest truth. “Any mom would be lucky to have you as a daughter. I wouldn't trade you for any other sister in the world. You're the best late—”
She cut me off with a roll of her eyes. “I know, I know. I'm the best late birthday gift you’ve ever got. You make that same joke every year before my adoption birthday.”
“Because it's not a joke.” I pinched her chubby cheek. “If it was up to me, I wouldn't even have a birthday party. I'd just tell everybody how January third is my favorite day of the year, because that's the day I officially got you as my little sister.”
She pursed her lips like kids do when you're both delighting and embarrassing them. But then a worried look came over her face. “Are we really going to Disney World this year, Steppie?”
My chest ached with the memory of her ruined seventh adoption birthday. We were supposed to go to Disney World for a sister trip, just the two of us. I’d bought the tickets and everything. But then Mom had gotten the news that the cough she couldn’t seem to shake would require more than a prescription for antibiotics. And the year after that, my mother had only been a few weeks from drawing her last breath.
Almost a year had passed since Mom’s death, but Daphne stayed fretful about birthday promises. She’d be checking and rechecking to make sure the trip was still on until the day we got into my BMW 3 Series to drive to the airport. Even then, she might not stop until we checked into the resort at Animal Kingdom. It was just too hard for her to believe good things could happen to her anymore.
I couldn’t blame her for that, and I knew telling her about the character birthday dinner and private safari I’d already booked and paid for wouldn’t reassure her—only agitate her worse.
So, I just held up my pinky with a solemn, “I promise. Disney World, here we come.”
“Here we come,” she repeated. Her voice cracked with tentative hope as she wrapped her pinky around mine.
And yes, I know I'm biased, but I really didn’t understand how our mother could see this wonderful little girl as anything less than beautiful.
With our pinkies still attached, I dropped a kiss on her forehead, which was just a couple of shades darker than mine. “See you tomorrow, Best Birthday Gift Ever.”
See you tomorrow.
That promise had fallen from my mouth even more easily than the one I made about Disney World. But within twenty-four hours, both promises would come back to haunt me.
When I got up to turn off the lights, I didn’t know this would be the last time I saw my sister.
I figured that—save for a few barely staved-off panic attacks—this birthday gala would go the same as all those that came before it. So, I headed back downstairs, intending to drink enough to have a nice proper hangover when I met Daphne downstairs for our usual New Year’s Day pancake brunch.
Just the thought of it made my stomach grumble with hunger. I vowed to find some more hors d’oeuvres to tide me over until tomorrow.
So, my heart just about burst when I saw Luk standing on the other side of the foyer with a huge dinner plate filled with the tasty treats cater waiters had been passing out all night. He waved and pointed to the plate in a way that clearly said, “This is for you!”
