The permutations of loneliness were an endless development with each passing day. And the more intricate and specific Hazel’s interpretation of her loneliness became, the bigger and more real those feelings grew. Hazel sometimes considered that her mother possessed an inkling of awareness, albeit never expressed in words, that things had changed between them. She would interpret a reach of her arms out across the dinner table to touch hands or the pulling of Hazel in unusually tight for a hug or kiss as an attempt to make it better. But right afterward, she would just flit away back into her other life centered around Cam or the twins. It solidified for Hazel the reality that there was no longer a shared understanding of what it meant to be mother and daughter. They would often end up in a room together, with little to say to one another. It would have been better if that silence between them was thick and heavy with sadness or regret, but it had become light and comfortable now.
Hazel and her mother were now connected by only the loosest stitch.
As these thoughts began to swirl into a vortex, Hazel sought the distraction of logging on to Wassup?, a social platform for tracking what your friends were up to. Joanna Jackson’s photos were the first to appear in Hazel’s feed; she had a party over the weekend that Hazel had uncharacteristically attended. Hazel was surprised when she received the invitation on Wassup?, but upon clicking around the page further, realized that Joanne had invited nearly the entire grade. It also could have been that Hazel’s mother and Joanna’s mother took the same pottery class. Hazel wasn’t certain what compelled her to go, but she had.
She clicked into the photo album to see what had been captured from the evening. A small flutter emerged in her belly. She was excited to see herself in the middle of something. Excited to see herself connected and present. Perhaps someone would have captured her in the background. Or in line for the bathroom. She remembered feeling prettier than usual that day. Her mother had let her borrow one of her shirts and then, with a smile, applied blush to her cheeks and mascara to her lashes. Perhaps someone had captured a picture of her feeling that feeling, of being that person that she wanted to be far more often than she could ever be that person. She clicked from one photo to the next, but there wasn’t a single trace of her. There were pictures from the kitchen and the living room and the yard. There were pictures of friends and decorations and even the Jackson family dog. But Hazel was nowhere to be found. Once again, she was a ghost.
As Hazel moved her cursor to look at the final photo, a message popped up in the bottom corner of the screen that said simply Hey.
It was curious that she was receiving a message at all, but the origin of the message was even more curious—Eve Warrington. Someone she didn’t even know.
She clicked into Eve’s profile page to investigate.
Eve Warrington lived in Connecticut and went to Wintor High School. She was in an open relationship with a girl named Abby Wasser, presumably her best friend. Cool. Hazel and Eve were also born just a few months apart.
In her profile photo, Eve was seated on top of a brick wall with her arms long at her sides and head tilted to one side, sending her full, sun-kissed hair tumbling across one side of her face and over one shoulder. Her long legs were crossed in front of her. She was smiling, though not a lot. It was just enough to accentuate the pinkness of her lips. She had two bracelets on her right wrist. Hazel could tell it was the real stuff, nothing like the plastic jewelry she had. Eve was wearing a leather jacket that looked new and expensive and a shirt that was lacey and a little bit see-through at the top. The picture was taken from far away, but still Hazel could tell that Eve’s skin was clear and shining and her eyes were bold.
Hazel clicked through the next set of photos. Everything about Eve’s life looked elegant and effortlessly curated. Her hair fell into any style with a messy grace. Her favorite style appeared to be a big sloppy bun tilted to one side. Eve was looking away from the camera in nearly every photo, which added to her cool confidence. Every picture made her look smart and just the right amount careless. Her gestures were big and daring and interesting and her limbs were long and tan. Through her loose-fitting clothes, Hazel could tell that the slope of her breasts and her butt were the perfect amount of round to contrast with the rest of her angular look. She appeared to be a person of extremes. A person without fear. It was mesmerizing for Hazel to behold.
Next, Hazel came across a selfie of Eve. The camera was right up close to her face and the picture showed every feature big and prominent on the computer screen.
Hazel gasped. It looked like her own face, only prettier. It looked like her own eyebrows, though fuller.
The base of her throat suddenly felt hollow.
The message box blinked again.
I think we’re sisters.
Hazel swallowed. It took effort.
Well, half sisters.
Hazel turned her attention back to the big photo.
Her instinct led her to shout out. “Mom! Mo-om!” As she yelled, Hazel realized that she was out of breath. She clicked back through the photos, still panting a bit. “Mo-oo-om!”
This time, she felt a deep sense of knowing. She knew Eve like she knew her own hands. It was intoxicating.
Hey, Hazel responded to the message on the screen.
She let the silence sit for a moment.
Ha ha, yeah, it looks like it! she added nervously.
Ha ha, yeah, Eve responded. Well, kinda looks like it.
Hazel’s mother popped her head into the room. Her sense of urgency didn’t appear to match Hazel’s or her desperate yelps. “What, honey?” She seemed exasperated, in fact. “I was just about to go to bed,” her mother added.
Hazel gestured for her mother to join her at the screen, and as soon as she did, her mother brought her hands to her mouth. Finally her mother’s reaction was appropriate in scale.
Another message popped up on the screen, and Hazel’s eyes and body lit up even more.
Our dad lives in Maine and I’m going to go visit him.
Hazel watched her mother as she pressed her palms even harder into her mouth. The news appeared to surprise her mother as much as it surprised Hazel. She considered for a fleeting moment whether to ask her mother what she knew, but she let the feeling pass. Hazel wanted to keep this whole occurrence and all the feelings wrapped up in it to herself.
I went for the first time last year and will be going back again this summer. Do you want to come with me?
Hazel’s heart and body filled with a surprising longing she had never experienced before. She felt new and bold and optimistic. She felt light enough to float right out of the room.
Definitely, Hazel replied before her mother could protest, and then tilted back in her chair and let the extraordinary possibility of her new life wash over her.
“I have a sister,” Hazel muttered to herself.
“I have a sister,” she said quietly again.