UNEDITED
Between his semi-committed addiction to smoking and his role as CEO of Elemental Coffee, Cassian Russell has spent the majority of his life running one of the most popular coffee shops on the Island with his best friend, Jake Swift. After a...
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Penelope
I didn't think I'd be spending the first day of October in the waiting room at a clinic in Kelowna. Before Patrick revealed the truth, Cassian and I had been planning on visiting a pumpkin patch and then a haunted corn maze at O'Keefe Ranch in Vernon. We've rescheduled that, but I'm regretting it. I should have pushed the DNA test back further.
I continue to tap my foot against the white tile. I can't sit still. The surrounding posters of flu shots and what smoking does to your lungs, tied with the antiseptic smell, are intimidating. It's also cold in here—you'd think by now they would've turned on the heat.
"Penelope," Patrick murmurs, resting a hand on my shoulder. "Calm down. Your knee is bobbing up and down so fast it's giving me whiplash."
"How do these tests work?" I ask, spinning in my seat. I'm face-to-face with Patrick, and even though I've come to terms with him being my brother, the similarities between us still shock me. "Do they draw blood?"
"From what I read," Patrick begins, "they take a swab from your cheek." He's quick to clarify he means with saliva.
I cock an eyebrow. "That's it?" He must be lying to calm me down. There's no way a DNA test is that easy. No way. It makes little sense how something so important could be done via saliva. "You're lying to me. They're going to take blood. Patrick, I'm going to lose my mind. I don't like needles." I slump in my uncomfortable chair and cross my arms. "Sedating me will be their only option."
"Isn't it funny how both our names start with a 'P'?" he asks, changing the subject. There's a small crease between his brows. "It's like fate knew Penelope should have been your name from the beginning. I don't know what Mom and Dad were thinking with Jules." His face pales and he tries to retract his sentence. "I didn't mean any offense, Penelope. If you like the name Jules—"
I interrupt a sigh of relief. "You don't like the name Jules, either?"
He cocks his head to the side and stares at me in question before realizing what I mean. "No," Patrick laughs. "I mean, I will not go around judging people who have that name—some people can pull it off—but I wouldn't name my kid Jules." He pauses, glancing at the front desk. The line up at the clinic has gotten bigger, and it makes me uncomfortable we're getting our DNA tested in the same place where people get tested for STDs. I glance at Patrick. I hope people don't get the wrong idea by looking at us. Concerns aside, it's comforting to see Patrick so anxious. It makes me feel less like an outsider.
"Do you go by any nicknames?" he asks.
When I don't respond, Patrick sighs and rubs his temples. "I'm sorry," he says. I track the movement of his eyes, taking in our surroundings. Over in the far corner, there's a play area for kids. Two kids are playing with toys from the nineties. To our right, there's a teenage couple, looking young and in love. I avert my gaze right away. It isn't hard to tell why they're here.
