Miss Perfect and Her Brothers (Part I&II)

1. The Monet Residence

Earlier that day, my dear grandmother fainted. She collapsed with a cup of hot tea in her hands.

There was chaos. Mom called out to me to watch out for the sharp shards of the broken cup, kneeling beside grandma, whose wide-open eyes and unnaturally pale face haunted me in nightmares afterward. I wanted to help so badly, but in the end, I just stayed out of Mom's way as she hurriedly prepared to leave. I remember how she draped grandma's shoulders with her coat and escorted her weak figure out of the apartment, saying over her shoulder for me not to wait up and to just go to bed because it was late and I had school the next day. She said everything would be fine, and as she left, she ordered me to lock the door behind her.

Several long hours later, I opened it to two grim-faced police officers. I stood before them in a worn-out shirt and checkered shorts. I rubbed my heavy eyelids as one of them informed me with a tense voice that a drunk driver had crashed into my mom's car. After spending long hours at the hospital, they were on their way home with grandma.

No one survived.

My heart stopped for a moment, then pounded harder. Suddenly, my attempts to wake up turned into deep despair. I didn't even know when social services arrived. Strangers reassured me with gentle voices as I sat on the couch, crying. I stared blankly at the floor, flinching every time someone brushed my shoulder. A never-ending stream of tears flowed down my cheeks, soaking the top of my pajamas. Someone handed me tissues, and I didn't really know what to do with them. The pain I felt at that moment should never accompany anyone, especially not a fourteen-year-old girl. I lost my mom and grandma, my closest people, my only family.

I was sure I would now wander through foster homes like all those orphans I knew from books and movies. Instead, soon I heard something that would change my life even more.

Vincent Monet would be my new legal guardian. For one painful moment, I thought my biological father, about whom I knew nothing, had finally surfaced. However, it turned out Vincent was my half-brother. Hearing this revelation made my head spin. 

A brother. 

I had a brother. 

Raised all my life as an only child, I now learned I had an older brother who agreed to take me under his wing.

Soon I sat on a plane, heading towards a new reality. By then, I had more information. I knew I had five brothers, all older than me, still living together in the family residence in Pennsylvania. I felt nauseous because until then, I hadn't had much contact with many men in my life. Raised without a father, I probably never even met an uncle. The only adult men I knew and saw somewhat regularly were a few teachers at school, my doctor, and a neighbor who pretended not to see me picking cherries from his garden.

The journey passed quicker than I wished. Those few hours over the Atlantic only heightened my nervousness. And when the pilot announced we would be landing in a few minutes, I involuntarily started trembling. The woman sitting next to me probably thought my reaction was due to a fear of flying and offered me a reassuring smile.

Well, I would have given anything for my anxiety to be that trivial.

I stood in line at customs, gripping both hands on the strap of my sports bag hanging over my shoulder. I could hear the pounding of my panicked heart in my ears, feeling like I was on the verge of a heart attack. Occasionally, I tried to take discreet, deep breaths to calm myself down. If anyone from the crowd around me was watching closely, they would surely think I was smuggling something illegal. What if the officials didn't let me through the border because I seemed suspicious?

I bit my lip so hard it hurt. I winced and quickly licked my chapped lips, which had been in a sorry state lately. Since my known life had ended, I alternated between crying and succumbing to nerves, so my ugly habit of lip chewing intensified.