Karri Roberts - The Siren Jewel

For all my friends that graciously listened to me talk and cry my way through writing this story.

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I flipped through the file of yellowed papers, speed reading like my cell phone privileges depended on it, because they did. There was a strict no-kids-in-the-office rule, which my dad enforced religiously. My adoption papers had to be in here somewhere. They were the evidence I needed to ensure he wouldnt ignore me when I slammed him with the birth mom question.

Last year I found the letter Mom wrote to the judge asking to adopt me. She detailed her experience, not only falling in love with Dad but also with me. I was only three when they met on a little caf patio. Their eyes locked and they just knew they were meant to be like some sappy rom-com movie. Her words were emotional gold, and would have been a treasured keepsakehad I known I was adopted. I tore the paper into tiny shreds as soon as I finished reading it, which in hindsight was an epic fail. I made the mistake of not being prepared when I confronted Mom, and that ended worse than anyone could have predicted.

Ben, do you see Dad? I asked my little brother. Half-brother. I still had to remind myself of that. We looked so similar. Must be those strong Farrington genes. Ben peeked through the curtain to the front of the house.

No, Jewels. I know how to be a lookout. Ben averted his eyes from the window and stared at me. What are you looking for, anyway?

Never mind that and just keep watching for Dad, all right? I placed the file back in its spot and picked up the next one. As I opened the folder, a crisp edge of paper sliced my finger, sending a jolt of pain up my arm. Ouch! I dropped the file, spilling the contents onto the floor. I stuck my finger into my mouth on reflex. The metallic taste of warm blood coated my tongue. Ben ran over and started gathering up the scattered papers at my feet. A cars engine rumbled from the driveway.

Jewels! Now hell know we were in here. Ill lose my PlayStation for a month. Bens frantic voice pierced the air as the knob on the front door jiggled. Dad cursed outside and I knew he couldnt find his key again. He always somehow misplaced it or lost it in a pocket between the car and the door.

Go. Now. I got this. Get upstairs, I hissed as I shoved Ben out of the office and stuffed the remaining pages into the file. Ben cleared the top step, making it to the second story as I dropped the folder into the filing cabinet. I made it to the office door as the front door opened.

Jewels, Ben! Pizza! Dad shouted. He stared at me as I stood in the office doorway. His eyebrows furrowed the way they always did when he realized I messed up. According to him, Id messed up a lot in the last year. Dad sighed, setting the pizzas on the entry table. Jewels. You know the rules. What were you doing in the office?

Just trying to steal all your banking information for when I run away to the Caribbean with that guy I met on the internet. I think his name is Matt or Mick. Not sure. I smirked. He lifted his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Not good. Mom would have laughed.

Jewels, give me your phone. You can have it back tomorrow on the way to the lake house. I will also be changing the Wi-Fi password for the night. Stay out of the office. Dad held out his hand and I slapped my phone into it. Dont forget to check your brothers bag tonight. Make sure he has his toothbrush. Mrs. McCreaty, the housekeeper, cleared out the bathrooms every winter so we could start with fresh hygiene items every summer. Ben came bounding down the stairs and jumped into Dads arms, squeezing him into a tight bear hug.

Hey, buddy. I brought your favorite. Hawaiian pizza. Dad held him close and kissed his cheek.

Thanks, Dad! Ben slipped from Dads arms and grabbed the box of pizzas before running into the living room and launching his body onto the couch. He landed upright, the pizza box in his lap, grinning from ear to ear. Lets watch that superhero movie you told me about. Whats it called, Jewels? Bens eyes filled with excitement. Dad took the box from him and placed it on the coffee table. He pulled a slice from it and took a bite, dropping sauce all over his shirt. Mom would have hated that.

Braywolf. Its in the recordings on the DVR. I sat next to Ben as he shoveled pizza into his mouth. Pizza and a movie the night before leaving for the lake house was tradition. Another cozy family moment to add to the memory vault to pull out when I needed a dose of happiness. All of my fondest childhood memories started this way. The only thing missing was Mom.

I tossed my green backpack and leopard print tote into the trunk on top of Bens and Dads matching blue duffle bags embroidered with their initials. One of the last gifts Mom ever gave them. Ben hopped into the front passenger seat.

I call shotgun! He slammed the car door and buckled his seat belt.

Im older, I said, my voice harsh. Ben flinched and glanced up at me with a furrowed brow through the car window. Even I was surprised by the growly tone.

Car rules. You call shotgun, you get front. Right, Dad? Bens eyes pleaded for his support.

Yes, buddy. You can have the front until we stop at Sallys Diner for lunch. Then your sister gets it the rest of the way. Dad started up the car as I begrudgingly sank into the back seat.

Dad, phone. I held my hand out.

Phone Dad said as he tapped his hands on the steering wheel.

Phone, please.

He stared at me with the you know better look on his face.

May I have my phone, please? I asked.

He slipped it from his pocket and handed it to me. I enabled Bluetooth and popped my earbuds in, resting back against the seat as the beat of the music filled my ears. I stared out the window, watching a jogger in a full neon outfit pass by as we pulled from the driveway.

Youre welcome, Dad said before turning up the radio. I amped up the music coming from my earbuds to cancel him out.

I drowned myself in the music on the drive wed made hundreds of times for as long as I could remember. I knew every turn so well I could get there in my sleep. Itd been in the family for generations. Every major event, happy and sad, in my life, happened there. When I broke my arm jumping from the tire swing when I was five. When I taught Ben to swim at age two. My first kiss with Josh Robertson while we were fishing off the dock when I was eleven. That summer I completed my first one-minute, fifteen-second 100-yard freestyle swim. When I confronted my mom about well, not being my mom and she subsequently drowned right in front of me.

Yeah, good times.

I pushed the thought aside and tapped open Instagram. I scrolled through pictures of puppies, inspirational quotes, and selfies of people I used to consider friends. Jani and Cari were at their grandparents farm. A smiling picture of them with baby piglets made me pause. I clicked the little heart icon. Then unclicked it. Then clicked it again. My throat tightened and my phone started to slip from my sweaty palm. I unclicked it. I hadnt spoken to them in almost a year. It seemed stalkery to heart their photo now.