Because You're Mine

by Rea Frey

  “Lee?”

  It was Shirley. She wore an amazing short black dress and jean jacket. How had she gotten here so fast? Shirley leaned in to smell her breath, and her intoxicating perfume made Lee’s eyes water. “Are you drunk?”

  Lee’s eyes felt heavier than she wanted, and bile rose from all the dancing. “So?”

  “So?” Shirley’s mouth hung open. “Why in the world are you drunk? You don’t drink.”

  “I do now.” Lee suppressed the guilt. Shirley had been sober for two years and now she was the drunk friend.

  “Why?”

  “Why do you think?” she shouted. “You’re sleeping with my father!”

  Shirley looked pained and glanced around, embarrassed. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know how it happened.”

  “Save it. You don’t love him. You don’t even care about my father. You could have any guy, and instead you choose him? Do you actually hate me that much or something?” She squinted at her. “Or is it daddy issues?”

  Shirley gripped both elbows to keep her stationary. “Lee, you’re my best friend. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  She jerked free. “That man will eat you alive. He’ll do the same thing he did to my mother.”

  Shirley stepped back. “That’s not true.”

  Lee snorted. “Shirley, he’s been utterly useless since my mother died. I’ve done everything to help him. All he does is drink and take up space.” The moment she said it, she wished she could take it back. She didn’t respect her father, but she still loved him.

  “Look.” Shirley gripped her forehead and dropped her hand. “I don’t know what you want me to do. What do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to prove to me that my father is no different than any other guy.”

  Something fluttered across Shirley’s face. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I want you to sleep with someone else. Here. Tonight. At this party. Go find someone. Show me that what’s happening between you and my father is nothing more than some sick joke.”

  Shirley rolled her eyes. “Let me take you home.”

  “You go home. I’m having fun.” Lee headed for the bathroom. Throngs of people lined the hallway, so she climbed the stairs, careful to place one foot in front of the other. The wood of the staircase swirled, and the banister felt like a cool snake beneath her palm. She teetered on the top stair and gasped, afraid that she might tumble back and crash to her death in a pile of drunken bones. Not tonight.

  Instead, she’d splash some water on her face, drink a few glasses of water, and head home. The talk with Shirley could wait. The noise of the party lessened on the landing. She stalled in the carpeted hallway, trying a few doors to try and locate a bathroom. Hall closet. Laundry. Office. There was a door at the back of the hallway to the left. She opened it and walked into a bedroom. It was dark, but there was light from a separate door—presumably the bathroom.

  She thought of what awaited her tomorrow, a slew of clients and their stories of happy weekends or extraordinary adventures. She had no fun stories to tell, no crazy adventures. She couldn’t even get properly drunk for the first time without messing it up. She twisted the knob and let herself into the bathroom. She splashed water on her face, wiped her hands, and took a few deep breaths. She flipped off the light as total blackness pushed in. Her reflexes slowed, and her world began to spin. The mixture of beverages rose and swirled. The back of her throat burned. She needed to get home.

  She opened the door and jumped. The outline of someone hulked in the doorway. The person stepped forward, and before she knew what was happening, hands closed in on her as she was forced back into the bathroom.

  Part 3

  after the fall

  I’ve learned that two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different.

  —Anonymous

  present

  33

  grace

  Grace wakes to the strained rhythm of her own heart. The room is still dark, the blackout curtains drawn. Last night hurls into her consciousness. Lee’s reaction. Her confession. The way she’d disappeared, angry and upset.

  She doesn’t know how she will explain herself this morning, or where she’ll begin. She sighs into the bleak, dark room, realizing that probably isn’t going to happen anytime soon; things are going to get even tenser before they get better. She needs to pee but can’t see in the dark. She flicks on her bedside lamp and squints into the sudden bright light.

  Lee’s bed is empty.

  It would be just like her to sleep on the couch, or even outside, just to prove her point. Despite her own confession, she thinks of what Lee told her about the man in the dark, the secret she’s harbored all these years. She doesn’t understand how a man could ever do that to someone else.

  Grace rubs her hand over her belly. She takes a quick shower and heads downstairs. She checks the living room and kitchen. In the sink, the wineglasses sit, half-filled with soapy water. Outside, the skewers from the s’mores have been wiped clean and placed on top of the stack of folded blankets. The worry eases. Lee probably cleaned up and headed out for a walk this morning to clear her head.

  She knows walking helps Lee sort through everything, just as it does for her. She fires off a text anyway. Good morning. Can we have coffee?

  She inhales the clean, humidity-free air. She walks to the front, through the aquamarine gate, and to the edge of Lake Tomahawk.

  Couples are already out, walking or jogging, and she wishes she had a cup of coffee and a book. She pans the path around the lake for Lee. A buzz vibrates her hip: Noah. She gives him an update and says she’ll call him later. Lee’s dark secret bubbles through the peace of the morning. Does Noah know about Mason’s real father? Have they ever discussed it? It makes her sick to think of Mason being conceived out of something so depraved. How another human could take advantage of someone like that …

  “What are you doing out here so early?” Alice, clad in expensive workout gear, jogs toward her.

  “Me? What are you doing? Going for a run?” She approves of the expensive gear. “You look like an ad for Lululemon.”

  Alice strikes a pose. “Am I hired?”

  Grace laughs. “Not when you pose like that.”

  “I’ll work on it.” Alice pauses by the bench and props up a leg to stretch her hamstring. “So, did you tell her?”

  Grace sighs. “Did I ever.”

  Alice stops stretching. “Went that well, huh?”

  Grace massages a temple. “She was outraged. Not that I’m surprised, but I shouldn’t have told her like that.” Grace thinks again about the confession Lee made and the selfish timing of her own. “I think I screwed everything up.”

  “She’ll get over it,” Alice says. “She has a crush. I’m sure it’s hard to see through that. It’s the first guy she’s liked in a long time, right?”

  Grace nods. “As long as I’ve known her.”

  “Right.” She switches legs and folds over her quadriceps. “I’m sure she’s just jealous, but you’re her best friend. She’ll be happy for you eventually.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I know so.”

  Grace glances at the house behind her. “Carol still asleep?”

  Alice releases her leg and shoves her hands into her puffy vest. “Snoring like a trucker.”

  Grace laughs. “I’m so glad Chad never snored.”

  “Me too. Fred doesn’t either. Does Noah?”

  “What? Snore? No, thank God.”

  Alice sits and gently elbows her. “I’m super happy for you, by the way. Luca will be over the moon about having a brother or sister.”

  “You think so?”

  “Of course. If I didn’t think I’d lose my mind by adding another human to our household, I would have done it already.”

  Grace tries to think about holding a baby in her arms again after all these years. “Yeah, but there’s something special about having just one too.”

&nb
sp; “True. Less expensive, at least.” Alice slaps her thighs. “Should we go for a walk?”

  Grace hesitates. “I really want to find Lee.”

  “Is she not sleeping?”

  “She wasn’t in the room when I got up.”

  Alice stands. “Maybe give her some space? It will do you some good to clear your head too.”

  They navigate the short path around the lake. Grace searches the stray jogger or walker, hoping one of them will be Lee.

  “So what did she do when you told her?”

  “Well, let’s see. She yelled. I listened. She told me I basically ruined her family. I finally went inside because I just didn’t want to fight. But then I couldn’t sleep, so I went and looked for her, but I couldn’t find her.”

  “What do you mean?” Alice glances at her.

  “She wasn’t on the deck when I came back out.” Grace recalls standing out there, searching into the black night.

  “She probably just needed to process what you told her, don’t you think?” Alice asks.

  Grace shrugs. “That’s what I was hoping, but what if she never came home?”

  “Where else would she go? Clubbing?” She snorts.

  A blast of sirens pierces their conversation. Two police cars whip down the curvy streets, to the base of the mountain Carol and Alice hiked yesterday. Grace can barely make out the trailhead through the thicket of trees.

  “Jesus. I wonder what that’s all about?” Alice murmurs.

  “Hopefully no one got attacked by a bear,” Grace says.

  “Aren’t bears still hibernating?”

  “I have no idea. Carol would probably know.” Grace checks her phone again and sends another text to Lee. An ambulance whines down the street, and the girls exchange concerned looks. “I don’t like this,” Grace says. “I have a bad feeling.”

  “About Lee?”

  Grace can’t tell her about their entire conversation, about the dark turn, the look in Lee’s eyes as she revealed what happened at the party. “Can we just go look for her? Or wake Carol up? I just don’t feel right. Lee always responds. I’ve texted her twice and nothing. And if anything happened to her, I don’t know what…”

  “Hey, slow down. It’s fine. She probably just doesn’t have her phone. Or maybe she’s just not ready to talk yet.”

  They hustle back to Arbor House, just as Carol saunters out the front door in a fluffy white bathrobe and oversized slippers.

  “Is Lee in there?”

  Carol yawns and looks behind her. “Well good morning to you too.”

  “We can’t find Lee.”

  Carol motions inside. “I literally just woke up.” She cradles a cup of coffee and blows steam off the top. “What do you mean you can’t find Lee?”

  “She wasn’t in the room this morning.”

  “So?”

  “So, I don’t think she ever came back last night.” Her head fills with instant worst-case scenarios: a bear attack, being kidnapped, freezing to death.

  “I’m sure she’s fine.”

  Grace pushes past them and up to their room. Her heart births a staccato rhythm. She searches for Lee’s phone. She dials her number, but it goes straight to voice mail. Her toiletries are untouched. Lee always makes it a point to go through the same bedtime routine: makeup remover, cleanser, moisturizer, teeth. It became a habit that started after she stopped drinking—when she used to fall asleep drunk and wake up to sour breath and raccoon eyes—and since she’s become sober, Lee is obsessive about nighttime care.

  Grace struggles to remember if there’d been a crack of light from the door last night, or a running faucet. Grace has always been a sound sleeper. Even if Lee had come in, she might not have heard her.

  But where could she be?

  “Come on. Where are you?” Grace sends another text, grabs her zip-up hoodie, and goes to find the girls.

  34

  grace

  They scour the entire house to make sure Lee isn’t somewhere they missed. Grace steps onto the back deck and looks for clues. She urges Carol and Alice to call Lee too, just in case Lee is only screening her calls.

  She shakes out the blankets, searches under the chairs for Lee’s phone, and then bumps into the blue recycling bin behind her. Maybe her phone fell in when she got up last night? She turns, crouches down, and rummages through it. The bottle of wine they had is there, and under a stack of newspapers is the other one. The truth slams into her as she stands, numb and unblinking. The bottle was unopened when she went inside. She’s positive. “Carol?”

  “Yeah?” She pokes her head out the back door.

  Grace raises both bottles. “We only drank one of these last night, right?”

  Carol squints. “The bin was empty except for the newspaper. I’m sure of it, because I didn’t know if I could put glass in there. Why?”

  Grace thinks of Lee out here, alone. She wouldn’t have. Maybe she was tempted but just dumped it out. Grace notices the screw top back on the bottle. If it had been unopened, it wouldn’t be empty. Grace gnaws the inside of her cheek.

  “Do you really think she drank it?” Carol asks.

  “Hey, you guys ready? Marge said she’ll call if Lee shows up before we get back.” Alice pulls on a light jacket and motions for them to follow. Grace lowers the bottles back into the recycling bin and joins Alice and Carol.

  New worries fester along with Lee’s absence. Did their fight cause a slip from sobriety, or was it the memory of her assault? They set out in the direction of the sirens, curious passersby popping their heads out of their homes or standing to gossip in the street about what’s going on. The cool morning wind whips across their bodies.

  “Windy,” Alice mumbles, trying to keep the conversation light.

  Carol joins in, but Grace’s mind is elsewhere. Her skin drains of color with every step, and Alice, sensing her unease, latches onto her. “It’s going to be fine. I promise. You’ll see. This has nothing to do with Lee. It can’t possibly.”

  She doesn’t know what is possible or not possible. Maybe Lee called an Uber to run an errand in the city center, Carol suggests. Maybe she’s journaling in a park somewhere, or off on a walk on the opposite end of town, Alice adds. Maybe her phone is off. Even as Grace calculates the different possibilities, none of them seems like a logical explanation for where she might be.

  They all link arms as they round the corner to the start of the trail, a barrage of police cars, barking dogs, and one lone ambulance with its siren light shooting around in a silent circle. Grace searches for a dead body or crime scene tape. None. A small whoosh of air escapes her lungs.

  Two officers sip coffee by their patrol cars. She turns to the girls. “Stay here, okay? I’ll find out what’s happening.”

  “Why don’t you let us come with you?” Carol asks.

  “No, it’s fine. I just want to ask, then we can keep searching.”

  She crunches toward them, snapping twigs and leaves under overused tennis shoes. She stares between them, not knowing which one to address. “Excuse me, officers?”

  The taller one looks down at her. “Ma’am?”

  “May I ask what happened here?” Grace considers his answer: what she will do, how her body will respond, what words she’ll say.

  “We don’t know all the details.” He sniffs and looks at his partner. “Found a hiker at the bottom of the path.”

  “A hiker?” Icy fingers of dread began to peck her spine like a piano. No, no, no.

  “It appears someone fell off the mountain.”

  “Man or woman?” Everything in Grace begs for the right answer. It feels as if her entire life depends on it.

  “Woman.”

  Crushing grief pierces the flesh of her chest and rips. She sucks cold air, the woods around her starting to spin. Her hand finds its way to her belly and then up to her forehead, which is clammy and growing wet. “And this person is…?” She waits for the reassurance that the woman—not Lee—is fine. That whoever fell is
alive. That she is a survivor.

  The officer clears his throat and the other one motions behind him. “Ma’am, we need to keep this area clear, so if you wouldn’t mind…” He motions her along, like she is nothing more than a nosy neighbor clinging to small-town gossip.

  Grace chooses her next words carefully. She focuses on her breath, on the officers’ faces, on the truth. “I understand, but here’s the thing. My friends and I are here on vacation, and we’re worried because we can’t find our friend. We’re staying over at Arbor House, but she didn’t come home last night. She’s not there and she’s not answering her phone, so we’re just worried that she might have…” She can’t finish the sentence. Might have hiked. Might have fallen. Might have died.

  The officers straighten, as if she’s said the right thing. “Can you describe her, please? Your friend?”

  “She’s about your height, kind of tall, jet black hair, thin … she was wearing a green hoodie. And black nail polish. She also had on striped knee-high socks.”

  The officers swivel their heads toward each other, their eyes confirming what she already knows. They look at the ground, the bottoms of their coffee cups, then somewhere toward the vicinity of her face, but never quite make eye contact.

  Grace’s legs start to shake, her heart knifed into a million bloody pieces. “Oh God, please. It can’t be her.” She grips the officer’s arm until his flesh bulges between her fingers. Lee’s outraged face from the night before sears her mind. How hurt she was. How devastated from the news. That tenuous exchange. Their last conversation.

  The officer steps back. She releases his arm in apology. “She has a son. He’s … he needs her. We need her. We’re all mothers. We’re just here on vacation. We’ve been here for less than two days. It can’t be her. It can’t.” The rush of words crashes toward them.

  “Ma’am, let’s not jump to any conclusions. Can you come with us for a moment?” The other officer supports her elbow and ushers her a few feet away toward the trail.

  Grace finds Carol’s and Alice’s expectant faces somewhere behind her. She tries to steady her features, to make them impassive, to emit total control with her eyes and lips, but she can’t. Alice screams, and Carol’s arms shoot around her as she collapses to the ground. This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening.