APRIL
There isn't great cell service on the ferry from Hyannis to Nantucket; I have two bars - just enough to call my parents. Leaving Jackson and the twins to watch the ocean, I get up and walk to the main deck. The wind blows my hair wildly around my head, but it's nothing I'm not used to. Going back and forth between the island and the mainland used to be an everyday occurance, getting my sea legs back is like riding a bike.
The phone rings twice before my mom picks up. I knew she'd answer. I don't know if there was ever a time - not in my childhood or adulthood - that my dad has ever answered the phone. "April?" she says, like I've already annoyed her.
"Hey, Mom," I say, leaning to rest my elbows on the railing. The dark blue water swirls and rolls feet below me, but it's not scary. It's there to remind me that we're going home.
"I can barely hear you. There's so much wind. Where are you?"
"I'm on the ferry, actually," I say, squinting as I look up.
"The ferry?"
"To come see you guys," I say. "We should be there in about 45 minutes."
"What?" she says, flustered. "You should've told me! Nothing is ready, the house isn't clean… I have to go grocery shopping. There's nothing in the fridge. Your brother will have to come pick you up."
"That's fine," I say, keeping my tone even. One of us has to be steady. "I called him. He already said he would."
"And he didn't think to tell me what's going on?" she snaps. Then, she mutters, "Like I should be surprised."
"I wanted to tell you myself, Mom."
"Well, you could've told me sooner," she says. "Your father won't be home for another hour."
"Perfect," I say. "I'll see you in a bit, okay?"
"Sure," she says with a sigh. "Yes, sure."
I hang up and slip the phone back into my purse, then head back to my family. I didn't tell my mom about them on purpose. Not for any mean-spirited reason, but I want to have the element of surprise on my side. I don't want her to have a mental script ready.
"Hey," Jackson says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "You talk to your mom?" I nod. "What'd she say?"
I shrug one shoulder. "She's freaking out, as to be expected."
"Right," he says with a smile. Then, he asks, "You nervous?"
"As hell."
"Me, too," he says. "But it'll be fine."
"Right. What's the worst that could happen?"
"That phone call could've been the go-ahead and you guys are all teaming up now, Get Out style," he says, smirking.
"Oh, shut up," I say, rolling my eyes lightly. "I'm serious about this."
"I am, too," he says. "But the mood was getting way too heavy. The girls haven't spoken since we left the dock. It's weirding me out."
Right on cue, Clementine looks up and takes off her headphones. "Where'd you go?" she asks me.
"I called Nana to tell her we're coming," I say.
"That me and Dad are, too?"
I nibble my lower lip. "I just said 'we.' I let her interpret it however she chooses."
Clemmie raises her eyebrows and says, "Yikes."
"It'll be fine," I say. "They're capable of being good. When I was a kid, my dad used to play tag with me and Uncle Jules once the sun went down. We'd catch fireflies and he'd sneak up on us and scare us."
Clemmie smiles. "That sounds fun."
"And my mom would always rope us into being her sous chefs. Julian liked it way more than I did, honestly. I just liked seeing him in the frilly apron."
"That's quite an image," Jackson cuts in.
I smile over my shoulder at him. "We had good times when we were kids. The two of them weren't always… like they are now. Well, maybe they were. They probably were. But they were good to me when I was little. I guess I'm still holding onto that."
"Maybe they're still under there, just buried under a bunch of other shit," Clemmie says. I shoot her a look and she knows exactly what it means. "Stuff," she corrects.
"Right," I say. "Maybe."
…
When our journey ends, I'm standing out on the deck again. The cabin was stifling, especially with how many errant thoughts were whirling around in my head. I needed fresh air, and honestly, being alone helped. But when the ferry pulls up to the dock, I feel a presence next to me and I turn to see Clemmie standing right there.
"Hey, babe," I say, offering her a small smile. "How are you feeling?"
"Kinda nervous," she says, scanning the scatter of people waiting in the parking lot. "Is Julian here?"
I let my eyes follow the path hers just took and find him instantly. He's sticking out like a sore thumb. "Right there," I say. "By the black Jeep."
I lock eyes with Julian and he waves like a maniac, his smile taking up over half his face. Clemmie laughs. "Definitely your brother," she says.
We find Jackson and Skye and de-board. Clemmie stays close and Jackson tries to keep Skye near, but she rockets ahead and greets her Uncle Jules before anyone else. She throws her arms around his neck with such force that he takes a stutter step backwards. They're adorable, but through my smile, my stomach twists.
Am I jealous of my daughter and my brother? After further consideration, I realize that I am. She hasn't hugged me like that in a while, and I miss her. I don't like being on weird terms with her. I'd give anything to have our simple relationship back, to be on the receiving end of a smile like the one she's flashing at Julian.
A few beats later, I finally reach him. Skye has let go, but she stays close while I hug my brother. "Finally," he says, giving me a sturdy pat on the back. I close my eyes and squeeze his shoulders tighter, holding tight to this piece of island home. "Damn. It's like you went off to war," he jokes, his voice muffled by my strong hold on him.
"I just missed you," I say, finally releasing him.
He pats the side of my face but quickly turns his attention to Clemmie, who's standing beside me and acting how she almost never does - shy.
"Clementine," Julian says, the corners of his lips pulling up in a gentle smile. "Man, it's been a long time since I've seen you."
Clemmie holds one elbow with the opposite hand. "We've met?" she asks.
"The day you were born," Jules says, still focused on her. "Your dad had you in his arms when I walked in the room with your mom's shoe."
"Her shoe?" Clemmie repeats.
"I lost it on the way into the hospital," I say, giggling. I can't believe I'd forgotten that and Jules didn't. But now that he brought it up, the day plays like a movie in my head. How tiny the twins were, how afraid we were to break them. We were so young.
"It's so good to see you," Jules tells Clemmie. "Really good. Can I give you a hug?"
"I was gonna ask you the same thing," Clementine says, and hugs him.
I watch Julian's face over Clemmie's shoulders and see his eyes shut tightly. His lips are pressed together to form a thin line, and his chin wobbles. When he pulls away, he hastily wipes his face and looks up towards the sky, warding off tears. "Sorry," he says. "It's just been a really, really long time."
Seeing my brother cry gets me going, too. My nose burns with the onset of tears and I take Clemmie's hand and bring it to my lips, kissing her knuckles. "She's here now," I say.
"Yes, she is," Jules says, smiling at her again before regarding Jackson. "Hey, man. Nice to see you."
Jackson reaches to shake Julian's hand, two pumps as they lock eyes and exchange something wordlessly. The two never really had a verbal relationship, so I remind myself not to ask it of them now. Everything will fall into place. At least, I hope it will.
…
We decided to go for lunch before seeing my parents, and any potential awkwardness was quelled by the presence of lobster rolls. Nantucket is famous for them; Skye and I hadn't had them since we left, and they were nothing short of heavenly. Jackson and Clemmie had never tried them, so to say that all of us left the restaurant with full bellies would be an understatement.
In the parking lot as we head towards Julian's Jeep, Clemmie speaks up. "Um… so, they don't know we're coming?" she asks. "The grandparents, I mean. How is this gonna go?"
Her question is disjointed, but it's something that I'm sure is on everyone's minds. At least, everyone's mind who doesn't already know the answer.
"Well…" Jules begins, then he clears his throat. "Well. The… the two of them weren't really involved in your guys' birth or April's pregnancy. At all. Or your lives now. You know that much."
"Well, my life," Clemmie clarifies.
"Right," Julian says, his foot only halfway in his mouth. "Yeah. And the thing is… we're not the greatest communicators. All of us. It's a family flaw. Probably thanks to Mom and Dad, actually. And because of that, and a lot of other factors, I'm really not sure if they're aware that Skye has a twin. I'm sure if they'd gone somewhere other than the island in the last fifteen years, they-"
I put up a hand to stop him from spiraling further. His words are already a mess and he barely answered the question. "My parents didn't ask questions when I came back with just Skye," I tell Clemmie, sparing her of any sugar coated truths or bald-faced lies. "And that was totally purposeful on their part. They were just glad that your dad was out of the picture. That's all they cared about at the time. Whether or not they're still so single-minded, I don't know. But I don't want you walking into that house expecting something wonderful and sweet. It won't look like that."
Julian looks at me with wide eyes - the same color as my own - and raised eyebrows. The girls don't flinch; this doesn't surprise them like it does my brother. He's caught off guard, clearly.
I inhale sharply and press my lips together, opening the back door of the Jeep to usher the twins inside. "Yeah," I say, still looking at my brother. "There's a lot to discuss."
SKYE
My entire body feels lighter now that we're on the island. I'm home, and I knew I'd be happy being back here, but I didn't know I'd be this happy. It's not very warm out, but with the sun on my face and the salty breeze on my shoulders I feel more like myself than I have in a while.
In order to get to my grandparents' house, we have to park the Jeep down the road a little bit and walk the rest of the way. During the summer we can drive all the way up, but Uncle Jules doesn't feel like letting air out of the tires to compensate for the sand. So, we're walking, and I don't mind.
"Mama," I say, catching up to her. Ever since we got off the ferry, I've been looking at her differently. In Chicago, we were on two sides, separated and battling. But here, it's how we used to be. Like she's my best friend again. I don't want this to change.
"Yeah, babe," she says, and I can tell her mind is only half-present. There must be a lot going on in her head, because her eyes barely land on mine before darting off again. And her sentence doesn't rise like a question at the end, it lands flat like a statement.
"Can I take Clemmie to Madaket?" I ask. Madaket is my favorite beach. It's where I learned how to swim and I've spent countless summer days and nights there. With Mama, by myself, and with my friends. It's my beach.
She shakes her head slightly, dampening my spirits a bit. "No," she says. "This discussion needs to happen as a family. All of us need to be there."
"Okay," I say, though half of me wishes I could skip out and fast forward to the fun parts of this trip. Actually, it might be more than half of me that wishes that.
"I don't want there to be any more exclusion," Mama says, still going on about it. "We've done enough of that."
"Yeah, I get it," I say. And I do. Even though I don't like it, I get it. And maybe it won't be as bad as she's made it seem. Because right now the grim look on her face is one fit for a battle, and I really don't want a fight.
I was fine when we got off the boat, more than fine when we saw Uncle Jules, and I was completely calm for the entire Jeep ride to Beacon Lane. But now, with the only sound being the sand under all of our feet, I'm catching everyone's nerves. I don't want this to go badly. I know Nana has plenty of faults, but I don't want to lose the relationship that I have with her. I've already lost so much. I left the only home I've ever known and was dunked head first into unfamiliar territory. I'm not sure how much more I can handle at this point.
When we get to the front step, the front step that I climbed up every day of my life until we left the island, I take Clemmie's hand. I'm not really sure what makes me do it - I don't feel especially warm towards her right now - but I grip her fingers tight. She squeezes mine in return and glances over for a second, one corner of her lips pulling up in a weak smile. I give one back, trying to tell her without words that we're going to be okay.
Mama knocks on the door, which I find strange. I kind of understand why she did it, it would be weird for all of us to walk inside when Nana and Grandpa aren't expecting a big group. So, Mama knocks.
When the door comes open, my mouth is completely dry as I watch Nana take in the sight of everyone. Her eyes rake over her kids first, Mama and Uncle Jules, and they rest on Daddy for a moment before drifting to me and Clemmie. That's where she stays the longest, her gaze flicking between the two of us like she's trying to decipher who's who. I'm actually not sure if she knows, so I help her out.
"Hi, Nana," I say, waving meekly.
"No, you're not being Punk'd," Uncle Jules says jovially, but none of us laugh.
Nana keeps staring, then turns her body to one side to welcome us inside. She still hasn't said a word. I wonder if she's in shock.
I keep holding onto Clemmie's hand as we walk inside, and she looks around at the beachy interior. It's all hardwood floors and comfy chairs; it always has been. During the summer, the floor always has crunchy spots of sand on it, but it's not like that right now. She definitely cleaned in anticipation of our arrival, because it's more spotless than I ever remember seeing it.
Before Nana has the chance to find her words, Mama starts speaking. "Mom," she says. "You remember Jackson."
She winds an arm through Daddy's and glances at him with love in her eyes. Really, they're shining. Before I saw them together, I never saw Mama's eyes like that.
Nana doesn't really respond. She makes some sort of a weird, choked sound in her throat, but that's it. She's staring at Daddy like she wishes she could make him disappear with laser vision.
"And this is Clementine," Mama says, one hand on Clemmie's shoulder. "My daughter. Your granddaughter."
Nana's eyes travel to Clemmie, and my sister scoots a little closer to me. Is Clemmie intimidated by Nana? Clemmie, who's not scared of anything or anyone? It's a wild thought for me to process. I can't wrap my head around it. It's strange to think that my twin sister, someone who's basically a carbon copy of me, is scared of someone who helped raise me.
"This probably seems sudden," Mama continues. "But it's been a long time coming. Over the past couple months, I've done a lot of thinking. I've had a lot of 'come to Jesus' talks with both myself, the kids, and Jackson. I made a lot of mistakes. He and I both did, and the girls suffered. We decided they're not going to suffer anymore, not at the hands of us nor anyone else. And that includes you," she says. "I'm no longer going to suffer at your hand. And neither is Jackson."
Nana narrows her eyes, spurred to speak. "I have no idea what you mean," she says. Her voice sounds older than I remember.
"You never accepted him," Mama says. "And you never asked after Clemmie when I came here with only Skye. Why is that?" Nana starts to speak, but Mama stops her. "I already know the reason. I just wish I would've known it sooner. You don't like the fact that he's black, and that they're black."
My stomach drops as my eyes flit between my mother and grandmother. This might get bad. I want to leave. I want to take Clemmie and come back when the air has cleared.
"I never saw it before. And that's my fault. But what isn't my fault is how racist you are," Mama says, wasting no time.
It doesn't look like Nana knows how to respond. She keeps opening and closing her mouth, staring wide-eyed at all of us in front of her. I want her to say something along the lines of how ridiculous that accusation is, but she doesn't. Is that because what Mama said is true? Is Nana racist?
Suddenly, my shoulders feel heavy all over again. I thought I had escaped this feeling of not knowing.
"April, where is this coming from?" Nana says, sputtering. "I don't know how you can say something like that. How dare you?"
That's what I wanted to hear her say. But it doesn't sound as good as I hoped it would.
"Explain how you treated Jackson when we were kids!" Mama says, not backing down. "You were never kind to him."
"Because he distracted you," Nana says. It's like the rest of us aren't even here. I wish we weren't. "He distracted you from everything you wanted, and then he got you pregnant."
I feel the blow from that one. I've never thought about it like that before. Were me and Clemmie mistakes? I guess a lot of babies are, and people just roll with it. But the fact that Nana hadn't wanted me and Clemmie conceived makes my head spin.
"You could have gone to an Ivy League, April," Nana says. "But instead, you chose Loyola. Because he did."
"We chose Loyola together," Mama says. "I couldn't be without him. Didn't you ever wonder why I was so miserable when I lived here?"
"You were not miserable," Nana scoffs. "Please." She looks at me and Clemmie. "I don't want to fight in front of your daughters."
"I have things I need to say, and they understand that," Mama says. "You're avoiding the subject. Why can't you admit it? You think Jackson is lesser because of the color of his skin. I can see it in the way you look at him."
"That's not true," Nana says.
"Then why haven't you ever liked him?" Mama continues. "Why won't you look at him?"
"April, that's enough now," Nana says. "You're making this more dramatic than it needs to be. Isn't it cinematic enough, you showing up unannounced? You don't need to dig all this up as you go."
"Yes, I do," Mama says. "I should've said it a long time ago. My daughters have beautiful brown skin and curly hair that I love. All you ever did was complain about Skye's hair. You never learned how to style it like you did for me when I was little. You never even tried."
"You're her mother, not me," Nana says.
Thinking back, I realize that Mama is right. Growing up, even when I would spend long summer days at Nana's house - this house - and come out of the ocean dripping wet with my hair in tangles, she'd leave it for Mama to tackle. Even when I asked her to help me, she wouldn't. I always thought it was because she didn't want to hurt me.
"But you're their grandmother," Mama says. "And you don't accept who they are. You look past it."
"Not true," Nana says. "Not true at all."
"You called us stupid and selfish when I got pregnant!" Mama says, her voice rising. "What mother does that? Tell me."
Nana doesn't answer.
"Would you have said those same words had Matthew from church knocked me up?" Mama asks, then answers the question herself. "You wouldn't have. And I know exactly why." She gives Nana a look that could kill and says, "I'll never forgive you."
My skin goes ice cold and tears prick the backs of my eyes. I don't feel like we should be here anymore, no matter what Mama says. I take Clemmie's arm and pull her towards the door, saying, "Let's go." When we walk out, no one stops us.
The door shuts, and our staticky tension flickers in the air as we make our way down the driveway. I don't want to talk about what just happened in there, and I'm guessing she doesn't, either. But I don't know what to say instead. I haven't exactly been warm to her the last handful of days, and I don't quite know where we left off.
"So…" Clemmie says, her sandals crunching the crushed-shells. "What now?"
"I don't know," I say, wringing my hands. There are a lot of pictures of me wringing my hands as a toddler. It's been a nervous tic all my life. "Um… do you wanna go see my old house?"
"Where you and Mom lived?" she says.
We reach the end of the driveway. There's only sandy asphalt in front of us, and the house is within walking distance. It's the only place I can think of to take her.
"We don't have to, if you don't want to," I say.
"Well, I don't wanna stay here," she says. "Which way is it?"
When we get to the house, it's smaller than I remember. I was so used to living here - every memory I have was made in this little shingled cottage. And that's what it seems like now, just a cottage. It's tiny in comparison to Daddy's apartment, or even mine and Mama's apartment in the city. I wonder what Clemmie must think of it.
I turn my head to try and gauge her reaction, but I can't decipher it.
"It's really small, I know," I say.
"I wasn't thinking that," she says. "I like the porch. And the plants in the windows."
"Mama's," I say.
"I can tell," Clemmie says. "Does another family live here now?"
"I don't know, I say. "There aren't a ton of people that live on the island year-round. Everybody basically knows everybody and they've all lived in the same houses forever. So, I don't really know who would buy it."
"Let's go in, then."
"No!" I say, grabbing her elbow as she's begun to walk up the path. "Clemmie, no. We can't!"
"Why?"
"It's not ours."
"It isn't anyone else's," she says, gently pulling away from me. "Come on. Don't be a puss."
I furrow my eyebrows and scowl at the back of her head. I'm not angry, just frustrated, because I want to follow her lead but I don't want to get in trouble.
But who's around to get us in trouble? I look to my right and left and there's not a soul in sight. There's nothing to lose.
"Fine," I say, catching up to her. We make it to the front door and I say, "It's probably locked anyw-"
Clemmie turns the handle and it swings right open.
"Home sweet home," she says, stepping inside. "This could be our place, and Mom and Dad can go back to the city."
I raise my eyebrows. "You wanna live this close to Nana?"
Clemmie moves her lips to one side. "Racist Nana. Well, you're right. No. I guess she better move."
I can't help but laugh. With a smile left over on my face, I glance around the empty house that me and Mama left. There's the kitchen where we used to bake together, side-by-side. There's the place where the couch was, the couch that's waiting for us back in Chicago. But something about it in our apartment doesn't quite feel the same. There's the hallway that led to our bedrooms, and the spot for the dining room table next to the sliding glass door.
Clemmie walks towards the slider and presses her hands against it. I smile when she does, because that's something I always did - Mama never cared about handprints and fingermarks like other parents. When I was little, she let me be little. Thinking warm thoughts about her feels nice, especially since we haven't been on the best terms lately.
"Holy shit! The ocean is right in your backyard!" Clemmie exclaims, pulling at the door open.
"Not really," I say, joining her out on the deck. It's the middle of Fall Break, which means that it's not warm outside. It's not cold, either, but the wind makes it feel that way. "You have to walk to get to the beach."
"So, let's go!"
"Right now?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. "It's not really warm enough."
"Oh, who cares," Clemmie says. "I've never been in the ocean before. Are you seriously gonna deny me this?"
"No… I don't know," I say. "I just don't think…"
"Exactly. Don't think," she says, and interlaces our fingers. "Just do."
I meet her eyes and identical smiles appear on both of our faces. "Okay," I say, nodding. "Let's go."
…
When we reach the top of the dune, Clemmie races down while I'm still taking in the view that I missed so much. I close my eyes and inhale the salty air, feeling it stiffen my hair, then let it all out. This is just what I needed. The surf pounding the sand, blocking out every thought in my head. Suddenly, I have no worries whatsoever. None to speak of.
I open my eyes to find that Clemmie has almost reached to the water; she's just a speck in the distance.
"Clemmie!" I shout.
"Come on!" she screams in return. "Slowpoke!"
I giggle to myself and jet off after her, my bare feet kicking up sand as I go. She waits with the waves gushing over her ankles, and I watch the sky mist over with gray clouds. Here on the island, weather happens right before your eyes. And right now, a storm is rolling in.
"It's gonna rain!" I shout over the wind and water.
"Doesn't matter! Not if we're going in," she says, tiptoeing further.
"What? We can't!" I say, clutching my elbows. The wind is vicious. "No swimsuits. And it's too cold!"
"I have solutions for both. We'll go in our clothes!" she says, and acts before I can stop her. Her jeans become soaked as she parades into the choppy water, and her cardigan trails behind her as she hops.
"Clemmie, no!" I call.
"Thought you weren't a puss!" she sings.
"Ugh," I say, wondering what to do. I know it's not smart to go in. The water is too cold and the wind is too strong, especially with a storm coming. But I can't let her go alone. She's not listening to my pleas to get out.
So, I do what I have to. I take off my windbreaker and jeans because the water will bog me down with them on. They'll get soaked and I'll sink. I can swim, but I'm not great.
After that, I stand on the dark, damp sand in a pair of pink underwear and a thin t-shirt. I'm freezing, already trembling. But I have to go get my overly enthusiastic sister.
"I'm coming!" I say, then splash in. "We really shouldn't - oh, my god!"
The water is so cold that it steals the breath from me. She is so stupid to have done this, and she's relatively deep now. I can only see her head. She's smiling, though. Can she not feel how cold the water is?!
"Clemmie!" I shout. "Come back!"
I can barely feel my limbs. We definitely shouldn't be here.
"Clemmie!" I scream again.
"Coming!" she shouts back, and I exhale a sigh of relief. I don't have to stay in anymore. I can wait for her with the pile of my clothes. I swim towards the shore, propelled by the waves, and wash up forcefully on the sand.
On my hands and knees, I catch my breath, recovering from how the water threw me around. Once my heart slows, I stand up and look for my sister without dressing. I need to see her before I worry about that.
But I can't see her.
"Clemmie!" I yell, as loud as I can. I cup my hands around my mouth, close my eyes, and shriek her name. "Clementine!"
Nothing. The only answer is the whoosh of the wind and water. Moments later, cool drops of rain begin to pelt my skin.
"No," I whimper, looking up and down the beach for anyone to help me. But no one's here. And I still can't see her.
Without hesitating, I run back in, kicking up water as I go. Once I'm deep enough, I dive under a wave and look around, but the sand clouds my vision. I can't see a thing.
I surface again and gasp for breath. By now, fear clutches my heart and makes it hard to breathe - even harder than the water makes it. "Clemmie!" I say, but my voice comes out more choked than powerful.
I paddle out further. She had gone so far. I don't know how well she can swim. I never asked.
"Clemmie!" I yell, and try to stand. But I can't touch the ground anymore.
A wave surges overhead and forces me under. For a few too-long seconds, the world goes silent. Salt stings my eyes and my lungs burn. By the time I reach the air again, I gulp and paw at the water like a dog.
"Clem-"
Before I can finish, a pair of arms wraps around me, hands locked over my chest. For a moment, I freak out - until I realize that this person is saving me. I allow myself to get dragged, my body going limp along the way.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Mama screams. Literally, she screams. She's soaked to the bone, knelt above where I've fallen in a heap on the sand. "What the fuck are you doing, Skye?!"
I start to cry, turning my head to cough up water. Mama helps me sit up, hugs me, and presses her face into my neck. She's shaking just as hard as I am.
"Where's your sister?" Mama asks once she pulls away.
I cough some more, still waterlogged. I blink hard, forcing the salt out of my eyes, and see that Nana, Grandpa, and Daddy are all standing around me, too. I don't know why they're here. My head feels light. Clemmie is still gone.
I point to the choppy waves. The rain is coming down harder now.
"Out there," I croak, and Mama screams.
Daddy runs into the water.
