The Angry Wind
Gerry Amani is in love with my step-dad and there's nothing I can do about it. At least, nothing I can do about her being in love with him.
Chris had always been a kind enough man. He had been young when my mum married him, but I still liked him. He was definitely the father I never had, and when mum passed, we both grieved. Chris...he just wasn't going to ever let it go, her death, and I guess I should've let him mourn in peace instead of forcing him to get out there in date again (it HAD been 9 years since she passed). Now...well...
"You were always the quiet one"
I was stuck here with Gerry -- my distant aunt from Chicago.
My mum's twin sister.
We're sitting at the market place at the heart of Duncan Grove: the tiny little village mum and Gerry grew up in. The snow had been piling up outside -- heavy hail against the pavement -- and the building was dimly lit. She popped in a cigarette, taking a light puff, and sighed.
"C'mon Daniel...talk to me..."
"What's there to talk about? I come back from college, and you're already here trying to steal Chris."
"I'm not..." She pursed her lips together, frowning deeply. "You've got a rude mouth."
"Not so quiet now, am I?"
She huffed, pulling away and letting smoke breathe through her nose.
"You're only after his money, Gerry."
"He seems happy enough to spend it on me!"
"Only because you look like her" I hissed, leaning over with the sharpest of eyes. "Don't ever think he loves you for your personality. You can pull the wool over his eyes, but never mine."
"Oh, you're so hurtful..." But there was no hurt in her voice. She put her cigarette out and got up to get her jacket.
"If this is how you'll greet me, I'll make sure to keep you out of the wedding, Daniel!"
"Wouldn't be too sure about that."
Carefully, I slide an envelope over to her, a very papers slipping out. She sneers at it, eyeing to the table and then to me before slowly picking them up.
"What's this?"
"Documents." I noted, deciding to take out my own pack of cigars. "You know...it's...it's strange how you came to us all these years later. You didn't even come to mum's funeral."
"I was busy. Being a traveling Dietitian is serious work."
"Hm. How's the trial going? I hear your lawyer's still trying to get you a deal. Does Chris even know?"
Gerry pauses at that, glancing my way with anxious eyes. Yeah, I heard about her case, and I knew Chris didn't know about it. She was supposed to be a dieting expert, but every last one of her "clients" seemed to just up and die of madness. Sheer, complete madness. She comes and goes from their homes like a demon whisper and well...
"I got curious." I saw the way she eyed the papers, a few photos and such trembling in her thin hands.
"Curious that you've come back all these years after you cut off from mum. Curious that you still look so young after what -- 13, 15, years?" I wave my hand, chuckling at her quivering lips.
"I guess it worked in your favor, Gerry. Chalk it up to a secret fountain of youth. You get people interested, you take their money, and you ship out. A regular con artist. But..."
I pointed to those papers, my grin growing wider. "You're not gonna con me."
Gerry stared at the blood tests, seeing that she tested negative -- she was never a part of our family. Never related, never even born from my grandmum. She was a fake -- a complete total fake with blood that wasn't real. A photo slipped from her shaking fingers, showing my mum and her sister as young women -- Gerry always had a right mole on her cheek.
This Gerry had the mole on her left.
She stares at me, and I stare at her, puffing smoke through my lips. My voice is quiet, feeling the tension in the marketplace. Everyone else is oblivious, but I see the way her green eyes glow to orange against the dark winter afternoon. She bit her lip, blood like blue ink slipping bubbling around her tooth.
I swallow slowly.
"I dunno what you are or how you tricked Chris into believing you," I put my cigar out, getting my coat and putting it on. "But I will tell you this..."
I put down my mum's cross, and she pulled away, gripping and crumbling the papers with growing nails. Just the very sight made her recoil, and Gerry's skin burned red at the arms.
"You won't come and go in this house. You won't have Chris."
She said nothing and placed the papers down, her eyes turning back to green and licking up the inky blood. She hurriedly put her coat on and rushed out the door, into the winter cold. Deep inside, I knew it'd be the last me and Chris would see of her.
I sat back down and breathed slowly, my heart beating fast. I took out another cigar and lit it with trembling hands. I knew Gerry hadn't been Gerry. I had always known that.
Because Gerry Amani died 15 years ago in Chicago.
