Shay
“Hi Zorah.”
“Hi.” She was feeling at a disadvantage as the woman who was immaculately dressed and as stunning as a model walked into the room and perched on the edge of the bed where Zorah was in pyjamas she didn’t own. “You’re familiar to me.”
“My name is Shay Frye. You might know my face because I have attended service several times in the church run by your uncle.”
“He is not my uncle.”
“I know this, Zorah.” She gave a sigh, “I’d like to share a story with you, if I may.”
“Not like I have a choice,” Zorah muttered with annoyance.
“We will have a chat and then I’ll help you get cleaned up in a shower. Your legs may be a bit weak, and you’ll need support.” She gave a shrug, “or I can bring up Orlando’s sister, the nurse, though she is sleeping right now after the long flight.”
“A shower sounds good,” Zorah admitted quietly. “They gave me a catheter I guess, and I feel violated. I want to wash it off.”
“The catheter was to ensure the amount of fluids necessary to purge your body of drugs actually passed through your body. It was medically necessary and frankly Orlando’s sister voiced she was worried you’d pee the bed and be even more humiliated to wake up sleeping in your own urine especially with the amount of fluid they needed flush through you.”
Zorah nodded at the explanation.
“I’m going to jump right in, if it’s okay.”
“Sure.”
“When I was a little girl, I overheard my parents having a huge fight. I was only six, but I remember it vividly because I was scared. It seemed my father learned how my mother several years before she met him, engaged in an affair with a married man. The backlash for my grandparents and mother was intense and they moved away. When my mother found out she was pregnant she was forced to give up her baby to another family.”
Zorah knew immediately this woman was the sister who’d revealed to Father Giannone the truth behind his parentage. As she studied her, she noted the woman, and Father Giannone shared the same shade of eye color and eye shape. This woman was his younger sister.
Fear started to permeate her bones. They were going to send her back to the priest who abused her.
“Relax Zorah. Please. I mean you no harm. I have no intention of letting Ippocrate know where you are.”
“Why should I trust or believe you?” she was looking at the window wondering if there was a way to escape.
“Let me finish my story.”
Zorah waved her hand impatiently.
“The night my parents fought, I learned of an older brother. My parents divorced because my father felt this was a betrayal he couldn’t live with. Even though it occurred before his involvement with my mother, he thought it was something he should have been told of. My mother has a history unfortunately of being with men who were dickheads.” Shay rolled her eyes. “My father was no exception. When he left my mother, he left me as well. I haven’t seen him since my seventh birthday.”
“I’m sorry to hear this.”
“My mother moved us to Providence after their divorce. She wanted a fresh start, or so she said, but as a kid, leaving New York city to go to Rhodes Island was annoying. Thankfully, the caliber of men my mother dated improved in Rhodes Island, and she met and married a wonderful man who I eventually called Dad. He adopted me and gave me his last name. He had a son who was a few years younger than me, and we got along okay but he could be a bit of an ass the way all teenage boys can be.”
“Can you get to the point?”
“There is so much to explain. I need to get this out before my brother comes to share his part of this story.”
“Fine.”
“I was thirteen when I started searching for the brother I knew was out there somewhere. I started looking and doing research. Then in a total accident, while putting away some linen in my mother’s bathroom closet, I stumbled across a shoe box with photos. Why it never dawned on me to start by looting my own house was beyond me but suddenly there were names and a photo of a baby boy, a date of birth and the name of the adoptive parents.”
Zorah nodded, “I know you’re his sister.”
Shay sucked in a breath, “I am his sister but,” she made a face, “he’s such a judgemental arse. I tried for years to foster a relationship with him, but he would constantly be sneering and commenting on my attire, my friendships. I met him in person when I was fourteen and he was twenty-four. His first comment to me was my jeans were too tight, and I looked like a harlot and how someday he would be bishop, and he could not have a sister like me tainting his image. He ordered me to keep my mouth shut about his birth.”
“He likes to throw the word harlot around an awful lot.”
Shay snorted, “Right? Then when I was twenty, my younger stepbrother was sixteen and he was hanging around with a crowd from school he shouldn’t have been. He had a crush on a girl, and they lost their virginities to one another, but it turned out the girl really liked one of his friends more. The friend stole his girlfriend. My brother was so hurt, he actually left his friend group and switched schools because he was so broken hearted.”
“His friend stole his girlfriend?”
“Yes. In the end, it turned out for the best because he met Orlando at his new high school. They joined the navy together, along with another friend and they were inseparable for a long time. In the meantime, I longed for my big brother so I would go to mass occasionally and sit at the back of the church. The more I watched, the less I approved, and he acted like I was invisible. My mother never came as she still to this day feels guilt over giving him away.”
“She did the right thing. He was loved by my grandparents.”
“They spoiled him and turned him into a selfish prick who thought he was better than everyone else.” Shay grimaced, “when they passed away, I went to the funeral and pretended I didn’t know him. His behavior towards me that day caused me to decide I was going to cut ties with him. I saw him with a girl, and someone mentioned it was his sister. He’d never once told me he had another sister but what surprised me was how coldly he was treating her while they were burying their parents. Then she turned around and I got a good look at her and realized I knew her. However, I didn’t know her as Ippocrate’s sister. I knew her as the girl my brother loved in eleventh grade.”
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