A Surprise Visitor

The party is in full swing - four generations of Conrads under one roof. Toddlers, through to nonagenarians, together, celebrating a significant milestone in the matriarch’s life. Nana Enid had reached 90.

In itself, that was an impressive feat, rendered even more surprising when you consider the ongoing medical complications and the fact that she was not expected to survive infancy. Bad lungs, but a strong heart and mind; Nana Enid was fighting back and refusing to give up without a struggle. 

Nana Enid sits in her favourite recliner chair, the fabric worn and faded, surveying the scene in front of her. 

It is chaotic and colourful, loud and obnoxious; beautiful to behold. 

It is not often that all seven of her children are in the same room, even more rarely with their partner’s present. On top of that, she has to factor in all her grandchildren and great grandchildren in attendance. Today there, is a full house. So full, it is almost bursting at the seams. All have travelled today to be with her, and she feels extremely grateful for it. 

Her siblings are seated around the table, with her eldest daughter Kate. Kate’s daughters, Laura and Ellie, are attending to them - bring them food and beverages, protecting the oldest generation from being bowled over by the young ones who were running around playing games, bursting with the energy only available to those under five. The rest of her children are gathered in various parts of the room. James and Daniel near the buffet table, feasting on mini-pies and raspberry slice. Martha and Harriet talking with nieces and nephews about their future plans. Suzanne and Charlotte sitting in together, scheming as they used to do as teens. Their partners are dispersed amongst the crowd of Conrads - playing card games, filling glasses, refilling snack bowls, making themselves useful. The grandchildren are mostly roaming, moving from group to group, chatting, eating and celebrating. Throughout the afternoon, each and every one had come to sit with her and talk - about her life, about childhood memories, about their futures. The careers, the university plans, the weddings, the babies; she never tires to hear all about what was happening in their lives. They keep her young.

Her heart soars with pride as she reminisces on all the wonderful things in her life and watches the magnificent future unfurl in front of her. An eclectic bunch her family is. Musicians and artists - like Kate and her granddaughter Anne. Scientists like Daniel’s boys Mark and Samuel. Teachers, like Martha and Harriet’s children. Doctors, nurses, accountants, business-owners, parents, students, children. In front of her, endless possibility and opportunity. It fills her with awe. Nothing could break her from this euphoria. 

A frantic knocking at the front door abruptly interrupts the birthday celebrations.

 “Go see who that is, love.” says Nana Enid, gently squeezing Laura’s forearm and pushing her towards the door. Never one to refuse a request from Nana, especially on her birthday, Laura obliges.

She opens the door and standing on the porch is a young woman, nervously wringing her hands and breathing heavily. 

“Hi,” she expels the word with such force and volume that Laura is worried that her heart or lungs might spew out onto the front steps. “I’m looking for Kaitlyn Conrad. Is she here?”

As she talks, she hastily pushes her dark bangs out of her eyes, revealing an intriguing and captivating gaze of hazel, blue and grey. An uncommon and somewhat unsettling combination. Laura finds she cannot look away. Her eyes are filled with an earnest and intense energy, a deep and undeniable need. 

There is something strange about this girl, Laura thinks to herself. She looks so familiar, but Laura can’t place her.

“Mum!” Laura hollers over her shoulder, “it’s for you!”

Kate approaches the door, and Laura notices the woman on the doorstep pales. All colour drains from her face and the nervous tics increase. 

With an awkward wave to Kate, the girl says “Hi, Ms Conrad. You don’t know me, or…” she hesitates awkwardly, trying to think of her next words. After a pause and a deep inhale, she tries again. 

“My name is Samantha and, I was born October 27th, 1982” 

Late-30s! Laura thinks to herself. Wow, she looks good for her age. Laura was shocked to hear this woman was almost 15 years old than she. Initially she would have guessed a five-year age gap. 

“Ms Conrad, I think…”

Before Samantha can even finish her sentence, Laura hears a thud and turns to see her mother on the ground. She had fainted. 

Samantha begins to panic. Muttering to herself. Laura can make out the words “fault,” “stupid,” “bad idea” and “family.”

She quickly checks her mother’s vital signs, before calling her step-dad Patrick to help carry her mum upstairs. The two of them make sure that Kate is okay, sitting with her until she regains consciousness. Laura brings her some water before heading back to the party downstairs. Someone has to make sure Nana Enid is okay. Or rather, entertained.

When she reaches the foot of the stairs, she sees Samantha still standing awkwardly in the open door way. She keeps turning, as if to leave, and then quickly changes her mind and turns about-face to wait patiently. It is amusing and dizzying to watch. She is graceful in her movements, but it is clearly written on her face how uncomfortable she is - a spirit trapped between planes, simultaneously internal and external to the house and family. 

Feeling sympathetic towards the awkward, anxious stranger on the doorstep, Laura invites her in. Her mother and grandmother brought her up with good manners, and it would be rude to turn her away just now. She wants to reassure her, calm her, and give her an opportunity to do what she came here to do; talk with Kaitlyn Conrad. She could not have known about Kate’s nervous condition. Kate’s reaction is not Samantha’s fault. Although how and why the presence of this stranger sent her mother into a fit, was beyond Laura’s understanding. 

Samantha seems bewildered as she enters the house. Laura gives her no warning of the party of the plethora of people in attendance. She accompanies her, like a guide, through the maze of people and sits her next to Nana Enid. 

“Can I get you something to drink, Samantha?” she asks politely. 

“A- -a cup of t--t--tea, thank you” she stutters, shell-shocked by the craziness she has just stepped into. 

Nana Enid surveys the girl and under her steady gaze, Samantha starts to twitch and twist, unable to remain still with this scrutiny. 

As Laura returns with some tea for Samantha and a glass of sparkling grape juice for Nana, she hears Nana ask a series of invasive questions. 

“What’s your name?”

“Where are you from?”

“What do you do for a living?” 

“Are you married?”

“Do you have any kids?”

Samantha, unused to this direct and abrupt manner of talking, is visibly uncomfortable. 

“If you don’t mind, ma’am,” she mutters meekly, “I’d like to talk to Kaitlyn first.”

“Kaitlyn,” Nana Enid huffs, “no one has called her Kaitlyn in years.” 

Nana Enid leaves the poor girl be, sitting in silence next to her, but still watching, observing and assessing; as if she could get her answers telepathically. Even the other guests struggle to conceal their curiosity about this surprise visitor. The intrigue and mystery over who she is, and who she might be, sends the rumour mill flying quickly out of control with speculation.  An old co-worker! A secret love child! An assassin! Lesbian lover! Time traveller!  The commentary got less and less realistic as time went on. In a family as big as theirs, keeping any form of secret, especially anything juicy, is impossible so our only choice was to entertain the absurd. 

It is another half hour before Kate has the energy to come back downstairs and join the party. Even then, she is ashen, and shaky, and needs Patrick to hold her steady. She gives her daughters a wavering smile before turning to Samantha. 

Before Kate could talk, Samantha rushed in. 

“I’m so sorry Ms Conrad.,” she mumbles shamefully. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your party. “

Nana Enid cannot stay silent at this and swiftly rebuts her apology.  

“Don’t you feel the need to apologise for anything, love!” she chastises. “You’ve had all these nosey buggers - myself included - ogling you since the moment you walked in. Not one of them even tried to talk to you - they just wanted to gossip. We should be apologising to you.” 

She glares at her relatives. 

She knows something we don’t, thinks Laura to herself. 

“Samantha, will you stay for dinner?” Kate asked weakly. 

It was such an odd request that Laura shoots a quizzical glance at her older sister, as if to say what the hell is going on? 

Samantha nods her response, slowly and seriously. 

This dinner invitation is the cue to wind up the party. The cue to send everyone packing.

“I’m a 90 year old woman, Kate. I don’t have the energy for prolonged celebrations,” grumbles Nana Enid. “I think the party’s over now, don’t you?” she smiles kindly at Samantha, as if trying to rectify her earlier inquisition. “Everyone should start heading home.”

Subtle as a jab in the bum - this phrase pops into Laura’s mind as Nana Enid talks. A phrase that has, on numerous occasions, been used to describe all of the Conrad women. Nana Enid was basically telling everyone to get lost and mind their own business. 

It took almost half an hour for all of Nana’s Enid’s family to say their farewells and birthday wishes. 

James is the last to leave. 

“Mum, I can drive you home,” he offered.

“Nonsense, dear,” Nana Enid replied curtly. “I’m staying for dinner.” 

Of course she is, thinks Laura. She wouldn’t miss this. Whatever this is. 

“Laura will drive me home, won’t you love?”

“Of course, Nana!” 

With that, the house was quiet again. 

The six of them sat awkwardly around the dining table, no dinner in sight. 

“Let’s speed this up a bit, shall we?” Nana Enid’s voice cuts effortlessly through the silent tension. “Laura, Ellie, meet Samantha. Your sister.”

The commotion that followed was deafening. 

In an utter state of disbelief, Laura and her sister - her real sister - sat silently as the tale unfolded. 

A young Kate, 18 and in love, travelled overseas to be with her partner, against her mother’s advice. 

A young Kate, 18 and in love, sexually abused by this partner, left stranded and unknowingly pregnant with his relatives while he sought gainful employment. 

A young Kate, 18 and not so much in love, gave up a newborn baby girl for adoption, on October 27th, 1982. 

A young Kate, returning home to her mother with her tail between her legs, holding a painful secret she would not share but would express in her artwork. Nana Enid had long ago guessed the cause of the pain - the effect childbirth has on the body cannot be hidden - but refused to puncture her daughter’s bubble of safety. Instead, Kate was allowed time and space to heal and process, using her painting as a conduit. 

Several years later, that same man re-entered Kate’s life, promising to love her and treat her properly this time. And Kate believed him, and for the next ten years was a victim of his constant gaslighting and domestic abuse.

This part Laura and Ellie already knew. They had witnessed first-hand the terror he inflicted on their mother and ran with her from one end of the country to the other to escape his clutches. They burned the bridge that connected them with the man who ruined their childhood. An ugly divorce and custody battle, which reduced them all to shells. He was not their father. Biologically, maybe, but it was Patrick who raised them, helped put them through university, saw them through all the milestones and loved and cared for them. He is their father. 

Samantha sits quietly through Kate and Nana Enid’s versions of the story, before quietly sharing her own. 

“I was adopted by a lovely older couple,” she starts. “They were unable to have children of their own.”

She had grown up knowing unequivocally that she was adopted and that her birth mother was a poor, unfortunate young girl who was not ready to have a baby or for the responsibility of motherhood. Her parents were always happy to talk about their choice to adopt, and encouraged her on many occasions to seek out her birth parents and forge a connection, but she had never wanted to. 

“But, last year, my daughter started asking questions.”

Kate is momentarily shocked by the fact that she has a granddaughter, and Nana Enid is ecstatic by the news of another great-grandchild to spoil. 

“All of the questions she asked, about adoption and my parents, made me realise I needed to come and meet you. Not for me - I never needed you.” There is no malice in these words; Samantha is simply stating a fact. 

 “But she does. Cassie needs to know her family. To grow up with cousins and Aunts and Uncles. Once my parents are gone, there is only me. And that can be a lonely life for a child.”

As the evening progresses from the revealing of secrets to the show and tell portion, Laura looks at her mother in a new light. With all that she overcame in her youth, it is easy to understand why she brought them up the way she did - strong and independent. She clearly did not want them to end up in dangerous, manipulative, unhappy relationships. She did not want them repeating her mistakes. 

Laura turns to Nana Enid, who continues to observe the reunion taking place in front of her. A row of tears silently rolls down her cheeks. Tears of happiness. 

“I’ve been waiting for Kate to tell me about this for such a long time, love,” she confesses to Laura. 

“I love you and your cousins equally, but there’s always been a special place in my heart for this lost, secret grandchild.” 

Laura waits silently, knowing more is coming. 

“I was so angry, when your father waltzed back into your mother’s life. Knowing what he had done. I was appalled when she forgave him. And then, so furious, watching her suffer under his thumb for so long. Every time I saw you girls, I wanted to take you away from him.” 

Laura remembers visits from Nana Enid as a child - the sparks for joy and happiness in an otherwise painful childhood. Many times, she remembers, asking to go and live with Nana because she felt safe and loved with her. 

“He’s dying, you know?” she whispers to Nana Enid. “Slowly and painfully. Ellie and I don’t even care. He writes, asking us to visit, and we refuse. We don’t even write back.”

She thinks for a moment. 

“After what he did to mum, and Samantha, and us,” Laura begins, unable to believe she is finally putting her grim feelings into words, “I kind of think he deserves it.”

“I never liked that no-good son-of-a-bitch anyway. Good riddance.”