Doutzen’s parents never tell their children that they love them. Although this may seem unhealthy to some, words are unnecessary. There are a million different ways to tell someone you love them. If you’re not paying attention, you might miss them. Doutzen stands on the sidewalk in front of her house. Directions aren’t complicated. She could take a route for the very first time without needing any directions at all. Her parents rarely check in with her, and never worry if she’s safe. Doutzen has been traveling around the country on her own since she was a child.

It’s early in the morning. It isn’t worth flying, and Doutzen is too young for an unrestricted license. Usually, she travels by bus or by train. She’s been speaking to Rio for days, and still feels nervous when he pulls up in front of her house. She could have traveled on her own. Rio insisted on picking her up, and she didn’t argue. He sent her a message a couple of weeks ago - this took her by surprise, but also brought her comfort. Doutzen has a half-brother. For months, he’s been refusing to speak to her. She’s better at speaking Rio’s language than he is at hers.

“You finally got him to agree to meet me.”

Doutzen isn’t nervous. She warms up to people quickly, and talks about herself openly. Marit says she can be too much at times and overwhelms people. She knows little about Ivo, aside from the things Rio tells her, which isn’t much. He’s attractive. He says Ivo looks just like his father.

“It wasn’t easy, but Ivo’s obsessed with me.” They’ll be driving for a few hours. Doutzen doesn’t understand the music that Rio plays. “He’ll never admit it, but he is.” Rio has a deep voice that doesn’t match his face. Until recently, she had no idea he existed.

Sometimes, I walk past a stranger on the street who kind of looks like me, and I wonder if they’re my sister or my mother. I wonder if my biological mother is still alive, and if she ever thinks about me. I wonder if she ever misses me.

It’s not good to dwell too much on the past. It’s behind you, and you’ll never get it back.

“Do you think Ivo will like me?”

Doutzen’s friends and siblings ask why she cares so much about meeting a person she never heard of until a year ago, and who probably doesn’t feel the same way about her. They don’t understand. Doutzen is eager for the sense of community and belonging that only comes with having a family. You already have a family, people say, and they’re right. Doutzen’s family chose her because they loved her. Any chosen family has to be better than being born into a family who doesn’t love you at all.

“Probably not.” Rio glances at his phone when it lights up. It sits attached to a magnet on the window, playing music through the car speaker. Doutzen expected this response, but it hurts her feelings all the same. “Don’t take it personally,” says Rio softly, “Ivo doesn’t like anyone.”

Doutzen shrugs. “He likes you.”

"I’m the exception. Besides, do you know how long it took me to get him to trust me?” With some people, conversation feels forced and awkward. Her conversation with Rio isn’t like this. He’s friendly and open, and made Doutzen feel safe and comfortable quickly. He says not to be surprised or offended if Ivo is callous. He says with unacknowledged trauma comes deep wounds that only get worse with time. Wounded people become afraid and isolated, trying to protect themselves in any way they know how to.

There’s a difference between showing compassion and letting others take advantage of you. Beatrix says that having trauma or struggling with mental health is not a reason to treat others badly. She says it’s not the responsibility of anyone to fix other people’s problems. Beatrix is not an uncaring woman, but she’s not a pushover either. When it comes to her daughters, Marit values respect: toward oneself, and toward others. Doutzen struggles to balance the two.

Rio looks familiar. If he went to university with Ivo, she might have seen him before. “How’d you meet, anyway? I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

Doutzen rarely makes solid plans. She could stay and visit for an hour, or she could stay all day. Sometimes things don’t pan out the way she expected, and spontaneity is more exciting than it is stressful. Timo would disagree with this. He loves to plan things out in detail, and gets frustrated with Doutzen when she goes off schedule. There’s not enough time in life to stick to a schedule. After a while, predictability gets boring.

“University,” says Rio. There’s a small, backed up line of traffic on the highway, and both check their phones here.

For years after finding out about her adoption, Doutzen would imagine her biological family to be all sorts of different things. Maybe her mother was a teacher, or her father was a chef. Maybe, after making the decision to give her up, they’d spent years looking for her, longing for a chance to explain their side of the story. Maybe she had a biological sister, or many. She kept these thoughts from her parents: afraid of hurting their feelings, or feeling guilty for wondering about a different life when hers was perfectly satisfying already.

“Do you know anything about my dad?”

“How can he be your dad?” scoffed Beatrix, when Doutzen first referred to Pim this way. “He didn’t even know you existed. He was probably a shitty dad, anyway.”

In German, there’s a noun called Sehnsucht, which means to long or yearn. Doutzen learned this word for the first time during a school trip to Germany, and felt especially connected to it. She feels nostalgic for things she’s never even known, and lives she’s never lived, and this feels strange. You can’t miss something you’ve never experienced. Maybe all of this is a bad idea. It hurts to confront the idea that even though Doutzen may crave a relationship with someone, she can’t force anyone to be in her life. Most of the time, memories of a relationship with someone is better than not having had that relationship at all.

“I know he loved Ivo.” Rio dresses strangely, and wears a lot of accessories and piercings. He looks like the type of person that little kids would stare at in public. Doutzen has never seen a man that looked like him. “He’d probably have loved you, too.”

At least my parents wanted me, she says, when school mates poke fun at her for being adopted. My parents chose me. Yours are stuck with you.

“Ivo agreed to meet you,” says Rio after parking outside of his house, “but that doesn’t mean he’ll be nice about it. Don’t come inside expecting to become his best friend.”

There’s a kitten in the windowsill. Doutzen has had weeks to prepare. There’s no reason she should be so nervous. The house is dark, scattered with cat toys and mobility aids. Ivo is disabled. This is one of the first things Doutzen learned about him. Before the accident, he was blind. This is all he's ever known. She isn't intimidated by unkind people. She appreciates honesty and straightforwardness.

“Do you dislike cleaning? Your house is a bit messy.”

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Despite the cluttered living room, Doutzen longs to explore. If you invite someone over, you should expect them to look around your house. When Doutzen’s parents have guests, they hide away things they don’t wish others to see. All of the flooring in the bungalow is dark-wash wood; rugs cover areas in a small hallway and bathroom. There’s a small wooden table in the corner of the living room that holds candles and flowers and occult items. There are items like skulls, crystal balls, gemstones, Ouija boards. Although curious, Doutzen doesn’t ask about it. Despite the lack of stairs, the house isn’t overcrowded. Doutzen must remember to control herself. There are so many questions to ask, but too many at once can be overwhelming.

She’s allergic to cats. When the kitten rubs against her legs, it’s hard to ignore it.

Rio doesn’t acknowledge her question. He stands in front of the stove, filling a pot of water, pineapple, and leaves. He’s American. Doutzen wonders where he’s from. “I’m making zobo drink,” he says, although she didn’t ask. “Want some?”

“What’s zobo drink? Is that why you’re boiling pineapple?”

Doutzen has a boyfriend. Sometimes, her mother invites him over for dinner.

“It’s a drink.” This much is obvious. Letting the pot boil, Rio sits next to her. “It’s made from hibiscus leaves. It’s super good for you.” Doutzen doesn’t pay much attention to her diet. She consumes what she feels like, and doesn’t worry about vitamins or nutrition content. She’s not unhealthy. She doesn’t obsess over her health the way some people do.

“I’ll try it.”

A door opens. Ivo walks down the hallway slowly, dragging one foot on the floor. He walks like Doutzen’s grandfather, and dresses the same way. “Rio,” he says, sinking noisily into a living room chair. “Everything hurts. I want an iced coffee.” He doesn’t ask nicely. It’s not a very nice way to talk to your husband. He must know Doutzen is here, but doesn’t acknowledge her.

She wants to scold him for the way he speaks to Rio. She’s not here to start arguments or make people angry, and anyway, Rio doesn’t seem to care. The pot on the stove boils; he lets it, checking its contents on his way to the kitchen.

“Hi, Ivo. Thanks for letting me come over and finally meet you. I’m Doutzen.”

A lot of the time, Doutzen says things that remind her of her mother. She supposes this will become more common as she gets older. There’s a difference between asking for favors and just being mean. Ivo can be blunt and mean. Doutzen has heard this from multiple people who know him.

He looks in her direction. He has thick glasses, and pretty eyes that don’t focus when he looks at someone. The kitten sits on his lap, loudly purring. He doesn’t seem like a cat person. “What do you want?”

It’s a sunny day. The lights are very dim, and all of the curtains are drawn. “What do you mean?” It’s hard to understand people you know nothing about. Most people are forthcoming and honest, and will tell you about themselves if you just ask.

Doutzen’s glass is cold and tall. The drink is deep red, and tastes kind of like cranberries.

“What the fuck do you think I mean?” Ivo rubs the cat behind its ears, looking tired. “You’re not here just to say hello. So what do you want from me? Why are you here?” Coffee brews in the kitchen, making the whole house smell. Doutzen hates coffee. Rio stands behind Ivo, massaging his neck and shoulders. He goes to nursing school, and works as a security guard at a bar. He talks about himself too much.

Most people are too polite. Doutzen would rather converse with someone blunt and honest than someone who acts agreeable just to avoid conflicts. “I wanted to meet you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my brother.” Doutzen gets comfortable. She has a text from Schyler, and another from Anouk. “Biologically, I mean. I’ve wanted to find biological family members ever since I found out I was adopted. I never imagined I had actual siblings.”

Ivo doesn’t look at her. He drinks iced coffee out of a tall glass, struggling to get a grip on the straw. “We’re not siblings,” he scoffs, “I don’t even know you.”

Marit says a little patience goes a long way. Doutzen finds it difficult to be patient with people, but likes people to be patient with her. “Well, that’s why I’m here. I want to get to know you. I want to know what my father was like.”

“Your father?”

Doutzen shrugs. “Pim.”

“Oh.”

He doesn’t seem to like her much. All she ever wanted was a real sibling to spend time with. She can’t explain why it matters so much. Doutzen is too overbearing sometimes. This is what Beatrix tells her all the time. It’s hard to relate to people if they’re too different.

Doutzen loves her family. Still, she can’t help thinking about what her life could have been like if her biological father had raised her - if he’d been mentally well and sound, and fit to be a father. Maybe she would have grown up with Ivo. Maybe they would have played together at school, or accompanied one another to parties, or collaborated on school projects. Maybe he wouldn’t have grown up to be so angry.

“You agreed to meet me. You must be at least a little bit willing to talk to me.”

The kitten runs up and down the hall, leaping and climbing. He’s bored. He needs someone to play with. Doutzen knows little about human psychology. She shouldn’t pry too much. The last thing she wants is to ruin her chances of a relationship altogether.

Nostalgia is a funny thing. Most people don’t believe it’s possible to miss people you’ve never met. “What was he like?” If Ivo looks just like his father, maybe he acts just like him, too. “I’ve always wondered what my parents were like. I wonder how my life would be different if I knew them.”

After refilling his glass, Rio sits lazily on the floor next to the cat. It’s hard to understand the men’s relationship. Rio is friendly and welcoming. Ivo seems to bring an air of secrecy everywhere he goes.

“You already have parents.”

Ivo isn’t angry. He isn’t receptive, either. He speaks as though every word tastes pungent. “We are not siblings. Pim was not your father. He was hardly a father at all.”

“What do you mean?”

It’s true that giving birth doesn’t make a person a parent. But blood is thicker than water, and we can never get back the things we’ve missed. She wants to hug Ivo. There’s probably no way he’d allow this.

“Stop acting like he was anything at all to you.” Ivo finishes his coffee, and then pushes his glasses up on his face, even though they haven’t fallen. “I don’t even know why the fuck you care so much, anyway. You can’t call someone your father if they never even knew you existed.” Maybe he’s right. Maybe Doutzen is getting too eager, the way she told herself she wouldn’t anymore.

“I just thought-”

“Do you think he was some amazing person or something? Do you think you missed out? Because you didn’t.” She’s upset him. Rio sits on the arm of the chair, playing with Ivo’s hair, seeming to calm him somehow. It’s frustrating. Why would you agree to have somebody over if you aren’t willing to have a conversation with them? Everyone knows why Doutzen is here. Her mother said not to get her hopes up. Her father said people are more likely to talk to you if you make them feel important.

“You deserved a better childhood, you know.”

Maybe Doutzen can’t learn everything in one day. Maybe it will take months or years to develop knowledge and relationships, and she has to be okay with this. In the past, Timo has scolded her for expecting others to get things done on her time, instead of their own. She can’t help it. Her siblings hate this about her.

Nobody speaks. When people get bored of conversation, you have to give them something else to talk about. “You deserved a better life. Both of you did. It wasn’t fair.”

It’s beginning to rain. It rains a lot in the city. Ivo shrugs, staring at the floor. “It never is.”

For Doutzen, home always felt like home. It was never uncomfortable, or frightening, or unfamiliar. She never doubted that she was loved and cared for - and for most of her life, it was just something she took for granted. Ivo never felt this way. No one chooses to become an addict. It probably hurt Pim just as much as it hurt everybody else.

“You deserve to feel loved,” she says, as a loud vehicle passes outside, “I’m glad I got the chance to meet you, even if you don’t want a relationship with me.” Maybe someday, this will come. If you push someone too hard, you might lose them altogether. It’s quiet. When rain patters lightly against a sliding window, Doutzen feels calm.