Perfect Tunes

by Emily Gould

  “What about tomorrow?”

  “I’ll figure it out.”

  They stared at each other for a moment and Laura became aware of how rarely she really looked at Matt. His face was just as it always had been, his friendly, softly lined, stubble-pocked face that could have desperately used a good scrub with an exfoliating cleanser and a dose of moisturizer, neither of which he would ever use. She thought very fleetingly of that morning and Leo. It already seemed like an extremely long time ago.

  Matt’s dark eyes were opaque to her, even as she searched in them for something to latch on to, something he could be to her in this moment besides an extra driver. It would be nice to have an extra driver. But they really couldn’t afford for him to miss two days of work in a row; he was paid by the hour. Laura had paid sick leave. And she really didn’t want his help—it would come with a tax, she knew, of his interference, his judgment, his witnessing her fear.

  “Honey, it would be nice to have one of us here to hold down the fort. And we need you to go to work tomorrow.”

  “We can handle my missing one day, Laura. It’s not going to mean that Kayla has to go to community college.”

  “I’m right here,” said Kayla, who was leaning up against the car, not looking up from her phone.

  “Well, Kay, explain to your mom that you think I should come get Marie with you guys. I’m her father?” he said, letting upspeak sneak into his voice as it always did when he was nervous or unsettled.

  “You are,” said Laura, “but I have to handle this on my own. You can have everything all nice for us when we get back. Fold the laundry. Get groceries. We’ll keep you posted about everything that happens.”

  “I’m staying out of this,” said Kayla, but when Laura booped the car’s doors unlocked, she got into the passenger’s seat. “We’ll probably be back really soon, right? I could probably not even have to miss a full day of school?”

  “You don’t have to come with me, either, if you don’t want to,” said Laura, “but it was your idea.”

  “Oh no, I’m coming. Bye, Dad! Love you!” She closed the door and sat in the turned-off car, looking at her phone.

  Laura moved toward Matt to hug him, but his body did not respond to the hug. This wasn’t good, but she didn’t have time to care. Trying to parse her feelings for Matt, which had until recently been the cozy, non-worrying equivalent of a big, bland meal, was a layer of complication her brain couldn’t process at this time.

  “Please do let me know as soon as you’ve spoken to her.”

  “Of course,” said Laura. “Please try not to worry.”

  “About her or you?” he said quietly as she got into the car, and she pretended not to have heard him.

  * * *

  They’d barely gotten outside the city when Daisy called. Kayla answered the phone, which was excruciating for Laura; she had to wait a maddening minute trying to parse the possible meaning of Kayla’s mm-hmms. When Kayla hung up before Laura got a chance to talk to Daisy, Laura was so upset that she almost inadvertently swerved into the SUV in the next lane.

  “Why didn’t you let me talk to her?”

  “Because you’re driving? You said it’s illegal to talk on the phone and drive and no one should ever do it.”

  “Your sister is missing! What did she say?” She was pulling over, preparing to call Daisy back.

  “She said she looked around in the yard but didn’t find her, that her tracks in the snow led into the woods, but that she’s not worried because the path in the woods leads into town, and she’s probably at the Dunkin’ Donuts or something.”

  “So is Daisy going to the Dunkin’ Donuts?”

  Kayla rolled her eyes and handed the phone over. They were parked on the shoulder, slightly too close to a bend in the highway for comfort, but Laura ignored her claustrophobia as she waited for Daisy to pick up the phone again. She was letting it ring for a ridiculous amount of time considering that she’d just put it down. Finally, she picked up.

  “I’m going to go look there now,” she said, anticipating Laura’s question. She sounded drunk.

  “Are you sure you should be driving?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Laura felt a convulsion of rage pass through her. Now she knew that she couldn’t ask Daisy to keep looking for her daughter. If Daisy fell in the woods or crashed her car, it would be Laura’s fault. Maybe it was time to get the cops involved, though they probably wouldn’t do anything; Marie had been missing for only a few hours, and she was likely, as Daisy suggested, just hanging out somewhere indoors and safe with a dead phone.

  Except, what if she wasn’t? Laura had a visceral flash of Marie’s face during her first depressive episode: the horror of looking into her daughter’s eyes and seeing the glazed blankness there. She remembered what it had been like to realize that she was talking to someone who didn’t just not want to be talking to her but who didn’t want to be, period.

  Marie had been fine for so long now; Laura had almost forgotten that she hadn’t always been. The latest iteration of teenage-rebel Marie had been alarming but full of spunk. She hadn’t seemed like someone who would hurt herself, but Laura also knew that those moods could change on a dime. Maybe the drugs she’d taken the other night had set off some chemical reaction. She thought about calling the doctor who’d prescribed Lexapro and Abilify for Marie, but it didn’t seem like there was time for anything now except to keep driving, as quickly as possible, to try to get to Daisy’s before nightfall. If Marie hadn’t come back home or made contact with Kayla or Laura by then, that would be the time to call the doctors and cops and freak out. Right now she was still probably just overreacting. Right now she could still imagine that everything would turn out to be fine.

  * * *

  It was still light out by the time they arrived, but barely; dusk was gathering at the edges of the woods, and it was already hard to see the tracks that Marie’s borrowed boots had made in the snow. “There are two paths; the one into town veers off to the right about ten feet into the woods,” Daisy said from the yard. She was holding her dog’s leash as he strained at the end of it. She didn’t seem drunk, just tired and wary and unfriendly. Laura wanted to punch her in the face.

  Instead she willed herself to make eye contact, to ask her civilly if they could take the dog. “She’s not going to help you track the girl, she’s not trained like that,” Daisy said, but she still handed over the leash.

  The dog bounded forward down the path, obscuring the tracks as she rushed through the snow, heading straight in, away from the town path. Kayla and Laura followed after her without another word to Daisy.

  The dog seemed thrilled to be outside, and Laura wondered how often Daisy took her on long walks; she was a young dog, not the one she’d met the last time she’d visited this house. It didn’t seem quite real that she’d been there before; she never thought about this place, though it was such an important one, in a way. It was where Marie’s father had been a child and an unhappy teenager, and where Marie herself had likely been conceived. No wonder Marie had felt some kind of pull toward it.

  Laura shouldn’t have left this part of her daughter’s existence shrouded in secrecy just because it was inconvenient for her to acknowledge it. She had done so much wrong. She had done her best. She silently promised that she would do everything so well, would put her entire heart and soul into making things okay for Marie and Kayla, if only Marie would be around the next corner, walking toward them wholly unharmed after a day of peaceful wandering. Laura would stop being distracted from her children by her pointless, fruitless hobby of dicking around with music, if that sacrifice was what the universe required in order to make Marie turn out to be okay.

  The woods’ silence was broken only by their footsteps, trees creaking in the wind and the dog’s snuffles. “Are you thinking about how this is your fault?” Kayla asked.

  “It is my fault,” said Laura. “Who else’s fault would it be?”

 
; “I don’t know, mine?”

  “How would it be yours?”

  Kayla shrugged, and Laura dropped her pace slightly in order to walk next to her; she had been rushing ahead, letting the dog pull her forward in a half run. “I should have known something was up with her. I should have told you she was gone sooner.” She was trying to keep her face expressionless and cool, but tears were streaking down her baby-fat cheeks.

  Laura stopped, though she wanted to keep rushing forward. She put her arms around Kayla. “It’s not about whose fault it is. It’s not about fault. And it’s going to be fine. We’ll find her and it’ll be fine.”

  She let Kayla burrow into her shoulder and sniff tears and snot onto the waterproof fabric of her coat. It had been forever since either of the girls had cried on her shoulder; it reminded her of when they used to cry daily about some tiny disappointment or delay. A snatched toy or a sad cartoon could dissolve them. And then at some point they’d learned to control their tears, or keep them to themselves. She had forgotten this feeling: a child’s full weight leaning on you, depending on you, needing to collapse into your body for comfort. She loved Kayla, of course, but suddenly she craved having Marie in her arms like this. The other night in the bathroom, as Marie had bitched about their lack of closeness—why had Laura not just gone to her and enfolded her and let her be a child again for a moment? She wouldn’t have let me, Laura thought, and almost started crying along with Kayla but bit back her tears and steeled herself. The dog was going crazy at the end of her leash; they started walking again, redoubling their pace. Through the trees, she could see that there was a pond up ahead.

  19

  They carried Marie into the living room and put her on the couch while they waited for the paramedics to come, Laura crouching over her while Kayla sat on the floor nearby, googling on her phone what to do about frostbite and hypothermia. Daisy leaned against the kitchen island, staring into space and swaying slightly; she was drunk, Laura realized. Marie’s eyes were shut, but she was breathing regularly. Her hands, though, were so cold that it terrified Laura. They felt like the hands of a doll or a mannequin: dead hands. She held them pressed between her own warm hands, willing the warmth to pass between them. If Kayla hadn’t been there, she probably would have been crying or screaming at Daisy. But as it was, she felt an obligation to seem like she was in control of the situation. “She’ll be okay,” she murmured, and Kayla widened her eyes at her. Kayla liked to be the one who decided how much to worry.

  “She was out there for a long time. I don’t know why the ambulance isn’t here yet.”

  “I should have gone out and looked for her sooner. I meant to, after you called,” Daisy called weakly from the kitchen. When no one bothered to respond to her, she shuffled off down the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

  “Go sleep it off, you witch,” Kayla muttered, and Laura couldn’t summon the energy to chastise her. But a few minutes later Daisy returned with a pile of blankets and heating pads. They all busied themselves draping them over Marie’s prone body on the couch, working together in silence except when Kayla asked Daisy a question about the settings on the heating pad. They were still rearranging and draping the pile of quilts and afghans when they heard the siren, followed immediately by a sharp rap at the door.

  “Oh, come in, Phil,” said Daisy. She knew the paramedics, of course. The town was tiny. They were an older man and a much younger, almost teenage-looking woman, and they took Marie’s vitals while they asked a series of questions about how long she’d been outdoors, medications she’d been on, whether she had a history of drugs or narcolepsy. While they were doing this Marie opened her eyes.

  “I’m fine, just lil’ tired,” she said, slurring. “I got lost. Mom’s here now.” She looked at Laura and partially smiled, then closed her eyes again.

  The young woman paramedic examined Marie’s fingers, then let Laura resume holding her hands as she scrutinized Marie’s feet. Her expression was professional and dispassionate, and Laura could tell immediately from the speed of her movements that she wasn’t very concerned. Laura allowed herself to feel just slightly relieved. The paramedic looked up and addressed all of the women.

  “You all are doing the exact right things already, and luckily she doesn’t have severe frostbite, just what we call ‘frostnip.’ If you keep gently rewarming her she should be able to avoid any lasting damage, though the fingertips and toes may blister. Don’t go dunking her in a hot bath anytime soon, just keep warming her up gradually. Offer her hot liquids when she’s more awake. I don’t think she needs to come in, Phil, do you?”

  Phil shook his head. “Normal breathing, normal body temperature, I think all they’d do at the hospital is a psych eval.” He turned to Laura. “Which, if you’re thinking that’s a good idea, we should go ahead and take her.”

  Laura impulsively shook her head. “No, we’re good. Thank you so much.”

  Phil and his younger counterpart looked at each other. “Okay, then. Careful out there,” he said. “It’s going to keep being chilly like this, and it’s risky if you’re not used to the temps or don’t have the right clothes.”

  “Thanks so much, Phil. What a relief! Tea or coffee for you two?” said Daisy, but they were already halfway out the door.

  There was an awkward silence after they all listened to the ambulance drive away. Laura had been sure they were in for a long night in the ER, mysteries and pain and stress. Of course, the essential problem—that Marie seemed to have tried to kill herself—was still with them, but without any imminent and solvable crisis, it was hard to maintain their panicked momentum. And Marie was sitting up now, wincing as she moved her stiff hands, looking more alert.

  “How did you guys get here?”

  “We drove, dumbass,” Kayla said, then started crying uncontrollably. Wordlessly, Marie stretched out her arms, and her sister fell into them. Marie shivered as Kayla hugged her, Kayla’s back heaving with sobs. “We thought you were dead, you complete asshole,” she said almost unintelligibly.

  “I am a complete asshole,” said Marie.

  “Both of you stop it,” said Laura. She left them sitting on the couch together and went into the kitchen, where Daisy was pouring brandy into a mug of tea.

  “Is that for Marie? I read that you’re not supposed to give someone alcohol when someone has hypothermia, because it’s dehydrating,” she told her.

  “It’s for me,” Daisy said. “Would you like a cup?”

  Laura shrugged and let Daisy decide for her, then accepted the hot mug as it was pressed into her hands and took a large gulp.

  She and Daisy sat opposite each other at the kitchen table, its scuffed surface a testament to hundreds of family meals. Now Daisy ate there alone. She had no one. The alcohol was threatening to dissolve the dissociation that was keeping Laura from collapsing. She looked up from her mug and accidentally caught Daisy’s eye, and saw something other than blankness and meanness there. Daisy understood what she had just been through, and would likely go through again, she realized with a thudding horror. Dylan had put Daisy through what Marie had just put Laura through, probably more than once. And then he had finally made her worst fears real. Laura had been so young the last time they’d met, and yet not a mother herself. She’d had no idea how to empathize with Daisy’s loss. Also, Daisy was an asshole. But she was Marie’s grandmother, and she understood.

  “I’m sorry that I was so rude to you earlier,” Laura said, hesitating to see how Daisy was receiving her meager offering. “I know that what Marie did wasn’t your fault.”

  Daisy shrugged and continued firmly patted the dog’s head, seeming to draw comfort from the animal. “It is, in a way. Genetics.” They sat in a tense but amicable silence for a while, the dog’s tail-thumping the only sound. From the other room, the girls’ chatter filtered in, unintelligible but light and almost cheerful-sounding.

  “She might try again, but you can’t live your life around protecting her, you know. You can’t sa
ve her by sacrificing yourself. If that worked …” She left the sentence hanging. “It doesn’t work,” she concluded.

  “But what am I supposed to do?”

  “You have to live your life,” Daisy said, sounding resolute if tipsy. “At least let them see you trying to live. Maybe that helps. I don’t know.”

  Marie appeared in the doorway. She seemed to want to step through but was hesitant to approach her mother, to interrupt. She had the shamefaced look of a child in trouble. Laura opened her arms and let Marie come to her, and she got to hold her as she had longed to do. For the moment, it was the only thing that mattered.

  20

  Marie woke up that first morning back at home in her own bed and looked up at Kayla’s bunk above hers and only felt mild dread of the day that was coming, not crippling full-body horror. Maybe the fog was lifting. She got up and went to the kitchen and started the coffee and made herself toast. It was a Saturday, so she didn’t have to worry about missing more school. She took her cup and plate into the living room and sat on the couch, munching and absently looking at her phone and waiting for the rest of the household to wake up. It was the first time she’d been up early in a while. She was still not doing okay, but she could feel herself on the escalator, toward the bottom, gradually moving toward the light.

  Tom had texted her. She took the opportunity to block him.

  Kayla and Matt emerged a few minutes later, blearily helping themselves to the coffee she’d made. She could tell they were giving her space, letting her be the first to initiate conversation. Was she really that scary? She felt Kayla look at her and then look away. They settled into different morning routines without really talking to each other. Matt lay down on the floor to do his physical therapy stretches for his bad knee.

  “Where’s Mom?”