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ZOE
“But he’s sooo cute.” I hold the two-month-old Cavanese up to Christian Sucato’s face. “Aria needs a puppy.”
“Aria can have a puppy when she’s old enough to take care of one.” Christian gently pushes the puppy away from his face. “Since I’m still changing Aria’s diaper, I think that’s a few years off.”
Aria is Christian’s ten-month-old daughter, cute as a button and needs a puppy. My three favorite things in the world are puppies, kittens, and babies. I’ll only ever have puppies and kittens, but that’s okay. For the most part, I like animals better than people anyway.
“She is a darling,” Bethany, Christian’s wife, takes the pup and scratches him behind the ears. “What kind of dog is it?”
“A Cavanese.”
“What the hell is a Cavanese?” Christian asks.
“A King Charles Spaniel and Maltese mix,” I answer. “The owner of the Spaniel was a breeder, but then decided they didn’t want to be bothered after the pups were born.” I hate it when people breed irresponsibly.
“It’s a shame we don’t have time to take care of him,” Bethany snuggles the pup.
“I can barely parent and I’m sure I’m screwing up,” Christian says. “I’m not going to screw up a dog too.”
“You’re a wonderful parent,” I argue. “Aria is perfect. You guys are perfect. She’s loved, fed, bathed, and properly diapered. That’s all that matters.”
“And we don’t do dogs in a house with Dylan,” Christian reminds me. “He’ll have a fit the first time the dog pees on the floor.
I roll my eyes. “Dylan never needs to know. Not if you keep the pup in the basement with you.”
Christian and Bethany live in a basement apartment in the same house as Dylan and his family. Dylan can’t stand for anything to be out of place or dirty. “You can crate him at night. The pup, not Dylan, then take him out the back door so nobody would see him. When he’s free inside, you can put down puppy pads…”
Christian pulls back with a look of disgust. “My daughter will not be crawling through puppy poop and pee.”
“He’ll train quickly, I promise.” They have to keep the little guy. I can’t stand the idea of having to take him back to the shelter. Though I will have to when I leave, but I hoped it was only for as long as it would take Christian and Bethany to fill out the adoption paperwork.
The pup lets out a little bark then licks Bethany’s face.
“See, he loves you.”
“Even if he gets trained overnight, Dylan will eventually hear a bark, unless I muzzle the thing,” Christian complains.
“That’s just cruel.” I take the puppy back and hold him against my breast. “I think Aria needs it as a Halloween present.”
“Halloween is for candy, not pets,” Christian says.
“But puppies are better.” I hold the puppy back out to him.
Reluctantly, Christian takes the little darling. All I need them to do is fall in love and one more puppy has a home. It’s not so much to ask. “You don’t want that cute little face to be locked up in a cage in the shelter do you?”
“Zoe…” Christian warns.
I put my hands over the pup’s ears and whisper, “They euthanize there. Do you want to live with that on your conscience?”
“Somebody will adopt him,” Bethany assures me.
She’s right. The cute puppies always get adopted. It’s the older and not-so-cute dogs that are eventually put down. I hate it and cry every time, which is why I volunteer to get as many animals into loving homes as I can. It’s my mission in life.
“How about an older, calmer dog? One that is trained, well-behaved, but would be an excellent dog for protection,” I suggest hopefully.
“We are not getting a dog. Any kind of dog. Young, old, cute, ugly, mutt or purebred.” Christian hands the pup back.
“Fine!” I take the little guy back. “You know, if you guys want to take a nap, I’ll be happy to watch Aria for you.” I babysit every chance I get.
“I’m beginning to think you might not be the best influence on our daughter.” Christian complains with a laugh then looks at Bethany. “Aria will say dog before she ever says “dada” or “mama”.”
“I promise that won’t happen,” Bethany assures him.
Christian’s phone dings and he swipes across it, then frowns.
“What?” Bethany asks.
“The DNA site. I have another match.”
“Match?” What DNA site?
“Bethany got me one of those DNA kits last year, to see if I have any family members out there.”
“Do you?”
Christian was abandoned as a newborn and there have been no clues to who his mom or dad were or are.
“There have been a few people who have popped up, but the shared DNA is so minuscule that if we are related it’s so distant that they couldn’t possibly know anything about my immediate blood relatives.”
“Maybe this one will be a closer match,” I offer hopefully.
“I’m not holding my breath hoping.” Christian puts the phone aside like he doesn’t care. Or, maybe he wants to look in private. Out of all of us that have been friends since high school, Christian has always been the most private in that he deals with things alone before he tells anyone, like when he was diagnosed with cancer last year. He told us, but he lived with it for a week before Sean confronted him and wanted to know what was going on.
Bethany follows me to the door. “I’ll work on him,” she whispers.
I knew she would fall in love with the pup. For Christian to fall in love, I’ll just have to find the right dog and then he’ll turn to mush too.
Taking the puppy, I head back to the shelter. I had no idea that Christian was looking for family, but I get why. He needs answers. I don’t have my family anymore, but I’ve always known who they are, or were.
ANDREW
I did the whole DNA thing to find my sister and my mom. There are several kits on the market, and I did them all, hoping to find a match somewhere. The DNA websites are pretty much my last resort. If this doesn’t pan out, I’ll have to wait until I have enough money to hire a private investigator. That’s not going to happen anytime soon since I’m just starting my career and have student loan debts that I’ll probably still be paying off when I start collecting Social Security.
It’s been eleven years since we were separated and the need to find Mom and Samantha gets stronger the more that time passes. Samantha would be twenty-two now. She was just a kid when I was kicked out. I was only fifteen. Mom wasn’t to blame. That was all on Dad and I take full responsibility for the actions that lead to his decision.
Other than missing my mom and sister, it was the best thing that could have happened to me and I have absolutely no regrets. However, I really want to find my sister and my mom. What I hadn’t expected when I did all these DNA tests was for one of them to pop up with a probable sibling based on the percentage of the match and he goes by the name of Christian Smith.
At one time I had a brother, for a very short time—Christopher, but he died within hours of his birth. He was born between me and Samantha. Even if my parents had another kid after I was gone, he’d only be about ten and probably not doing a DNA kit or setting up a meeting in a bar, so who the hell is this Christian Smith?
Though, it’s possible that Samantha changed her name, and gender identity, and maybe that’s who is waiting for me. A lot could have happened in eleven years.
I glance up at the sign above the door. I guess I’ll find out soon enough since I’m about to meet this Christian at The Poison Apple. His choice of venue, not mine. Not that I’m a stranger to bars or clubs, I’ve just never been in this one.
After taking a deep breath, I head inside. The place is pretty empty with the exception of four people at a far table and a guy sitting at the bar. It is kind of early yet for a crowd since most people are still at work. I took off early just so I could make this meeting.
The bartender glances up and then looks me over as her eyes widen slightly before she heads over to the guy sitting on a stool with his hands clasped around a mug of beer. I can’t really see his face because his long, dark hair is hanging down to just past his shoulders.
The bartender then leans in and then nods in my direction.
The guy slowly turns, and I find that I’m holding my breath. Then our eyes meet and without a single word, I know that he’s my brother. A brother I never knew about.
His eyes are the same as mine and the man that fathered us, and his bone structure is similar. Then, in a split second, I recognized him for another reason.
Can my brother really be Christian Sucato the saxophone player? I know his songs, but that’s about it. This has got to be a huge mistake.
He stands as I come forward. “Andrew?” he asks.
“Christian?”
“Yep.”
Sucato must be his stage names since Smith was on the DNA sight. I suppose most performers change their names, so it isn’t that big of a deal.
We just stand and stare at each other. I don’t know what to say, how to begin and he just studies me.
“I’m confused,” I finally say.
“About what?”
“How I potentially have a brother when I thought I only had a sister.”
His chin lowers and studies me. “You didn’t know you had a brother?”
“Not until the match popped up, but honestly, I can’t figure this out.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-six. You?”
“Twenty-four,” he answers.
I frown. I would have known if Mom or Dad had another kid when I was two. That couldn’t have been hidden. “This doesn’t make any sense. I had a brother your age.” Is it possible…No!
Except…
Oh God, did Mom fake Christopher’s death? Did Dad?
Impossible! Neither one of them would do something like that. There’s got to be another explanation. Did someone else fake his death and then lie to my parents? Or is this just a fluke that we somehow share DNA.
Even though it’s disappointing that I don’t have a brother, at least I got to meet Christian Sucato so there is that.
Except, he has Dad’s eyes and there’s a resemblance…
“What can I get you?” the bartender asks.
“Whatever you have on draft.” I really don’t care, though maybe I should have ordered a shot or something. “I was looking for my sister and my mom. Not a brother,” I explain again as I take a seat at the bar.
“You said you had one though, right?”
“Yeah, but he died at birth.”
“What was his name?”
“Christopher.”
“When and where was he born?”
“I don’t know the hospital, but it was here, in New York. July 17, 1994.”
He looks over at the bartender.
“If he’s a fan, he already knows your birthdate,” she says to Christian. “This wouldn’t be the first time someone has claimed to be family since you never made it a secret that you’re basically an orphan that grew up in foster care.”
“This is the first time there’s been a DNA match of high probability,” Christian reminds her.
The bartender studies me. “Do you think that can be faked?”
“Alyssa’s not very trusting,” Christian says. “And, neither am I. Can they be faked?”
“No, but what if the site mixed up samples or something…”
“Maybe your mom or dad had someone on the side,” Alyssa suggests.
“While that would make sense in the normal world, it wasn’t possible with my family.”
Alyssa snorts in disbelief and I get it. She can’t begin to understand the circumstances or my family dynamic. “She your girlfriend or something?”
“Or something,” Christian answers.
A group of people come in and sit down at the bar and Alyssa heads over to serve them.
“Do you mind if we talk in private.” I’m sure Alyssa is nice and all, but this is between me and Christian and for us to figure out. What if the DNA didn’t lie? If it didn’t, then this could be Christopher, which takes me back to wondering why the hell my parents didn’t bring him home and then tell everyone that he died. Children were assets and would have elevated Dad in the community, so there has to be some bizarre explanation like we’re cousins or something. Mom and Dad both had family members outside of the community. Nobody I ever met, though, since they cut ties with them and I didn’t bother to find them either. Had there been any type of lasting relationship with my parents I would have had someplace to go, but I didn’t even know the names of my extended family.
He nods to a table and grabs his beer.
“Look, I don’t like to talk about before and even though I have no control over what you say to anyone, I’d like you to keep this between the two of us until I can figure it out.”
He leans in, resting his forearms on the table. “How bad was before?” He seems really interested.
“The before explains why I would know if one of my parents had another kid.”
“Go on.”
“We lived in a commune. I prefer to call it a cult.”
He pulls back, his eyes going wide in disbelief. “Seriously?”
I’ve only told a few people, my two best friends, and they had the same reaction. “There was no reason to cheat, nor a way to cheat. It was a closed community and if any of the women would have had sex with another man, it wouldn’t have stayed a secret long. And, since the men were allowed more than one wife, there was no reason to have a mistress.”
Christian’s eyes widen further.
“I grew up in a community that lived off the grid, in a sense. They were survivalists, anti-government, armed to the teeth and not with just hunting rifles, and used religion to support their beliefs. Over the years, I think they started really believing their bullshit.” I take a drink of my beer. I don’t like talking about the community. “The leader claimed to talk directly to God, as is usually the case. If you were one of the chosen eleven, which my father was, it was your duty to have as many children as possible.”
“Why eleven?” Christian takes a deep drink of his beer.
“The leader claimed to be the first chosen and then he and the others made up the twelve disciples living in present day.” I shake my head and take another drink of beer. “This is crazy.”
“So, your dad was one of these leaders and could have wives instead of a wife, like Sister Wives?”
“Pretty much.”
“What kind of religion was it?”
“No name was ever attached. They were simply the Keys to Heaven, but they don’t exist any longer. The FBI came in ten years ago. The leaders were arrested, and most were tried and sent to prison for things like tax fraud, weapons possession, and the like. Some of them are probably getting out soon.” I shrug. “I’ve tried to distance myself from all that. All I care about is what happened to my mom and sister.”
“Why that name? What’s the significance?”
“The town, where the community was located, is called Heaven. It was a play on words. They would tell people to head to heaven and you’ll find the keys. The elders still went out in the community, outside of Heaven, and tried to recruit new members to their flock. Usually lost souls who were alone and looking for something to believe in.”
“So, it’s easily researched,” Christian confirms.
I don’t blame him for being skeptical. If I hadn’t lived there, I’m not sure I’d believe the story either.
“The raid was done quickly and quietly. By the time the national news heard about it, it was over and done, but if you search it online, you’ll find all kinds of articles.”
“You survived,” he points out.
“I wasn’t there. I’d already been shunned.”
“Shunned?”
“Yep. Kicked out at fifteen.” Christian doesn’t need to know the reason for my shunning just yet. “Despite being brought up in that environment, I didn’t exactly agree with what they were preaching.”
“So, they kicked you out?”
“They had me pack my things and showed me the gate. It was really not that big of a deal to them because if younger guys left, it was easier for the elders to find younger brides.”
“So, it’s impossible for us to be related despite the DNA because somehow you would have known,” Christian finally says.
“Unless….” He’ll think I’m crazy if I tell him my thought process.
“What?”
“Mom had to be hospitalized for problems during her pregnancy with Christopher. Dad took her to New York because they had the best doctors. At least in his opinion, they were. When she returned, she told everybody that Christopher had died.” What if she had lied?
“I wasn’t abandoned in a hospital.”
If he had been, they’d know where he belonged, or we would have had child services all over our asses.
“So, there is no way to prove or disprove that we are related,” he finally says.
“Unless I manage to find my mom and get some answers.” Damn, I really want those answers. Christian looks too much like Dad for this just to be a coincidence. Grabbing my wallet, I pull a family picture from it and hand it to Christian. “Here. This is my family.” It’s an old photo and I was just a kid when it was taken, but it’s also the only family picture I have.
He takes the photo and studies it, then leans in closer. “That’s your dad?”
“Yours too apparently.” He can’t deny the resemblance any more than I can.
He pushes his fingers through his hair and blows out a sigh as he leans back. “Are you sure he didn’t have another wife or girlfriend that nobody knew about?”
“Dad could have had anyone he wanted. He wouldn’t have even had to marry them, and nobody would have said a word. Children were a sign that God found favor. There was no reason for him to hide a child and all the more reason to announce it to the community regardless of whether the birth mother was married to him or not. Both parents would have been looked on in favor by the elders.”
“And God,” Christian answers dryly.
“Yeah, that too.” I snort. Not that I have anything against God because I don’t. What I have a problem with is people that twist God and the Bible to their own benefit.
CHRISTIAN
This is so much to take in. I’ve wanted to know about my past, my mom and dad, and any family I might have, but what Andrew is telling me is unbelievable. I can’t wrap my head around it.
Am I being punked? I glance around the Poison Apple, looking for cameras. Alyssa has been here all day because she had to do inventory and would have warned me. She knows how sensitive I am about wanting to find my family. If something was up or this was a joke, she would have warned me and not allowed it.
“I need to check out your story,” I finally say. “And have you investigated.”
He holds out his arms like he’s open to whatever I need. Even he has to agree that the story is unimaginable.
“We are also going to have our DNA tested in a real hospital by real doctors.”
“Fine with me.”
Just because some website claims we match enough to be brothers, doesn’t mean that any of it is real. “The only problem is that without a DNA sample from a parent, we might not learn anything more.”
“I have Mom’s.”
How the hell is that possible if he hasn’t seen her in eleven years?
“Science class,” he explains. “We were studying blood, or something, and Mom let me prick her finger and I had the two slides taped together to take to school the next day. I have a sample of Samantha’s too. I just don’t know how much they may have degraded over time, or if they are worth anything.” It’s not like I used proper storage. By the time I learned about that, they’d been sitting in an envelope in the bottom of my backpack for six years.
“Samantha?”
“My younger sister.”
I may have a sister and a brother. But I can’t get ahead of myself. This could still all be a hoax and I don’t want to get my hopes up just to have them shattered. “How old is she?”
“Sam would be twenty-two now.”
A baby sister that I wasn’t allowed to be a big brother to. That almost pisses me off more than what Mom did.
I’ve always blamed my mom, but Dad could have been in on it too. Or maybe my dad took me away.
I’ve played out all kinds of scenarios in my head, but none of them involved a cult.
“What about your dad? Do you have a blood sample from him, too?”
“He thought it was a waste of time. I wasn’t going to be leaving the community. I was going to eventually fill his shoes, bring more children into the world, and work the farm.”
“You didn’t want that?”
Andrew snorts. “I was getting the hell out of there the first chance I got. It just came sooner than I anticipated.”
“But you kept their samples.” Does this dude have other issues that I need to worry about? Who keeps blood slides for eleven years?
“I started to toss them after I got settled into a new home, but I was afraid that it might be all I ever have of my mom and sister. Stupid, I know, but I haven’t been able to get rid of anything I took with me. Pictures, a drawing Samantha made me, the book report that my mother was proud of, a stuffed dog that was a gift from…a friend.”
It’s kind of creepy that he’s kept slides with blood on them. Then again, I’ve been searching for a scrap of anything to answer why I was left by the garbage, so if that’s all I had as a link to my family, I probably would have held onto them too. “At least we’ll find out for sure if we’re related.”
After we finish our beers, Andrew and I hop a subway and head to the hospital, after I send a text to Bethany. She’s a nurse at the hospital and arranged for a lab tech to take our DNA for testing. Andrew promised to bring the slides in the next day so we can know for certain if we share a mom. After that, I got Andrew’s contact information, just telephone and address, and we parted ways. I then headed to the office of the private investigator that I had hired. I don’t hand him notes but send him a recording of the conversation. Maybe it wasn’t right that I didn’t tell Andrew I was recording, but too much is at stake just to believe him and let him into my life without knowing the truth. And, even if he is my brother, I want to know everything there is to know about him before we meet again—before I introduce him to my family.
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