Chapter 12: AUNT MOLLY

Cheryl’s POV

If I were to write an autobiography, the opening chapter would probably start with this very moment—standing in front of the mirror in my shorts that stopped mid-thigh and the prettiest top I owned, debating whether to apply a coat of lip gloss or just accept my fate as the human embodiment of “meh.” Spoiler alert: I skipped the gloss. Not because I didn’t want to look nice, but because Aiden’s deep, gravelly voice had called out my name from downstairs, and I panicked.

By the time I grabbed my bag and made it out of the room, Aiden was already halfway out the door, car keys jingling in his hand like he was a game show host and those keys were the grand prize.

“Where are you going with those?” I asked, pointing at the keys, my voice sharp enough to make him pause mid-step.

He turned back with a confused look, holding up the keys like they explained everything. “Uh, these? The car? We’re driving.”

I arched a brow. “We’re going to talk to homeless people about your mother, and you’re planning to pull up in a luxury car? What, to flex on them? ‘Hey, I’m rich, but do you know my mom?’”

He blinked at me, baffled. “So… what’s the plan? We’re walking?”

“Yes, we’re walking. It’s a small town, Aiden Scott. This isn’t New York City. It’ll be like those rallies we used to do in school. Remember? I particularly liked the ones for endangered birds and we had to wear flower crowns”

A flicker of recognition crossed his face. “Oh yea, there was one where had this water balloon fight after”

I stopped in my tracks and stared at him. “You mean the rally where you and your friends ambushed me with water balloons on my way home?”

He winced, running a hand through his hair. “Oops.”

“Yeah, oops,” I mimicked, rolling my eyes. “I caught a cold, Aiden.”

His expression morphed into something frantic and overly apologetic. “I’m sorry! We were stupid kids. Really stupid.”

“Obviously,” I muttered, but my annoyance was half-hearted at best. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t hold on to the resentment I’d nursed for years. Maybe because that hard spot in my heart had softened, morphing into something squishy and annoyingly forgiving.

“Yea but you know, we’re not fifteen anymore, twenty five and my backs hurt if I stand too long”

I looked at him “Well consider it a sacrifice for the woman who birthed you”

We set out on foot, starting our little quest. For hours, we wandered through the streets, approaching every homeless person we could find. It was exhausting—both physically and emotionally. Most people didn’t know anything. Some ignored us entirely. By midday, my back ached, my feet throbbed, and my throat felt parched. Aiden looked just as worn out, his desperation showing in the tense lines of his face.

Just when I was about to suggest we call it a day, we walked past a parking lot. In the corner, a woman was sprawled on the ground, surrounded by a patchwork of cardboard boxes and what looked like her entire life packed into a few grimy bags. She was middle-aged, her face weathered by time, maybe hardship, maybe incessant drug use. Her hair was a messy nest of gray and brown streaks, and her clothes hung off her frame like they belonged to someone twice her size.

Aiden hesitated, and I could see the internal battle playing out on his face. So, I stepped forward, determined not to let him back out.

“Hello, good day, miss,” I started, my voice as gentle as I could make it. “Mind if I ask you some questions about someone you might know?”

She looked up, squinting at me with suspicion. Her voice was groggy, probably from a rough night. “What’s in it for me? You ain’t the cops, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” I assured her quickly, motioning for Aiden to step closer. “My friend here is looking for his mother. She might have lived on the street for a while, so maybe you knew her?”

Aiden pulled a photo from his pocket and handed it to her. “Evelyn Scott,” he said, his voice tight.

The woman took the photo, her grubby fingers smudging the edges as she peered at it. For a moment, she said nothing, her gaze distant as if trying to summon a long-forgotten memory.

“Molly,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aiden and I exchanged a puzzled glance. “No, that’s Evelyn Scott,” he corrected, a note of desperation creeping into his tone.

The woman shook her head, tapping the photo. “No, that’s Molly. Always had that wicked tint in her eyes. She was the evil twin.”

“The evil twin?” I echoed, my stomach twisting into knots.

“Evil twin?” Aiden repeated, his voice sharp with disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

The woman let out a raspy chuckle. “Evelyn and Molly. Twins. Tricky to tell apart unless you knew them well. I should know—we used to do a lot of drugs together back in high school. Molly always had that edge to her, though. Evelyn was sweeter.”

The air around us seemed to freeze. I could practically hear Aiden’s brain whirring, trying to piece together this new information.

“Wait,” he said, his voice strained. “Are you saying my mother has a twin? And that… this photo might not even be her?”

“Exactly,” the woman said with a toothy grin that sent a shiver down my spine. “That’s Molly. Haven’t seen her in years. She disappeared right after high school. Evelyn stuck around longer, but she vanished a few years ago too. No one’s heard from her since. Saw her a few times on the street, always looking mopey but she could barely remember anything, she was always high on something”

Aiden looked utterly lost, his shoulders slumping as he stared at the ground. I placed a hand on his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Aiden, we’ll figure this out. But first— we need to ask the most important question” I turned back to the woman. “Do you know anything else? Where either of them might have gone?”

The woman pursed her lips, sizing us up like she was debating whether we were worth the trouble. Finally, she leaned forward, beckoning Aiden closer.

“You’re Evelyn’s boy, aren’t you?” she said, squinting at him. “I remember you. Stubborn little mutt.”

Aiden blinked, his mouth falling open. “You… you know me?”

“’Course I do,” she said with a wheezy laugh. “Your mother and I were tight once. But she got real deep into the drug scene. Lost touch before you grew up. She wasn’t in a good place, kid.”

Aiden’s face hardened, but he stepped closer as she motioned for him to lean down. “I have a secret to tell you,” she whispered, her voice conspiratorial.

He leaned in, and I held my breath, feeling like the air was charged with something heavy and unspoken.

“Evelyn was never pregnant, you know. She couldn’t have a kid with all those drugs she was throwing back” the woman murmured. “You just showed up on her doorstep one day with a note. And guess who it was from?”

Aiden’s face went pale as he took a step back, realization suddenly dawning on him

The woman’s grin widened, her crooked teeth gleaming. “That’s right - Aunt Molly.”