I spritz again, wipe the rag across the back of my chair. “Whatever.”
She’s stuck in the chair because of her highlights, but she looks as though she’d like to march across the salon and give me a spanking. Send me to my room. “You shouldn’t speak negatively about your father,” she says, between clenched teeth.
Clearly, I’ve hit a nerve, even though they’re separated. “What do you care?”
She rolls the magazine. “Your father is a good man. He busted his butt for your sister, especially after her mother died. If you think for one second—” And then she stops, because it’s out there. She cannot take it back.
My breathing quickens. “She died?! When?”
My mother’s face has turned crimson. She shakes her head slowly. At me, or at herself?
“Tell me!” I demand.
She looks down. “Right after—right after she left.” She sighs. “Your father should be the one having this conversation with you.”
My hands clench around the rag. “She’s been dead this whole time?!”
She reaches up as though to fiddle with her hair, then remembers the foils. “She was—she had problems.”
“Her husband was screwing another woman,” I spit. “Of course she had problems.”
“She had an addiction to painkillers,” my mother hisses.
We both look over at Summer, who doodles away, seemingly in her own little world. She’s my kid though—it could all be an act. Maybe she’s got the volume off and she’s listening to this whole show. “Natasha never told me about that,” I say.
My mother crosses her arms. “Well, it’s true. It was after a surgery she had. She was prescription shopping with different doctors. Your father caught her driving under the influence—with your sister in the car. She refused to go to rehab. He told her he wanted a divorce, but he couldn’t just move out. It wasn’t safe to leave Natasha alone with her mother.”
I don’t want to believe her. “So he kicked her out?”
“He didn’t have any other choice.” She crosses her legs. “Your father told her she needed to get help or she couldn’t see Natasha. He didn’t hear from her after that. A couple of months later, the cops called. She’d been in a car accident. Drove headfirst into a tree.”
Summer keeps drawing, seemingly unaware.
I ask, “Was she—”
“High?” My mother grimaces. “Yup.”
“Does Reuben know?”
My mother rolls her eyes as though this is a stupid question. “Of course. We told him everything.”
My blood feels hot. “But you never thought it would be a good idea to tell Tash? You just let her keep believing her mother abandoned her? For the rest of her life?!”
She crossed her arms. “She’d already been through so much. It was right before Christmas. She would have been devastated.”
I lower myself into the chair at reception. “She thought her mother didn’t want her. That she didn’t love her. She grew up thinking that.”
She unrolls the magazine. “We loved her,” she insists. “That should have been enough.”
NATASHA
OCTOBER 1983
With Jason’s pointers, Natasha is actually pretty good at the video game until they hear the front door open; it’s Josie and her parents coming home.
“Hide!” Jason whispers. The two of them squeeze into the basement storage closet. Jason’s face is so close, Natasha can feel his hot breath on her cheeks.
Mrs. Carey calls, “Jason! Come upstairs!”
“Stay here,” Jay instructs, slipping out and shutting her inside.
It takes a few minutes for Natasha’s eyes to adjust to the dark. She doesn’t want to start crying again. She hopes Jason will tell Josie and Josie will come down and bring her a peanut butter sandwich and then they will figure out a plan. Her stomach grumbles. She didn’t think to bring any snacks when she left school, and now she’s missed dinner. It takes a long time before Jason comes back, and he has Doritos. He huddles in beside her and tears open the bag. “Shhhh!” Natasha hisses. She plucks a few chips and tries to chew as quietly as possible. But they taste so delicious, and she is so hungry. “Where’s Josie?” She helps herself to another handful.
“Dad’s helping her with math,” Jason whispers. “I told her I wanted to show her something downstairs and she said ‘get lost.’ I’ll have to wait until she’s alone. I think it’s going to be awhile.”
Natasha’s heart rate quickens. She wipes her cheesy hands on her jeans. How long is she going to have to stay in this closet? Why can’t Josie just come rescue her? She’s eaten too many Doritos too fast. Her mouth is so dry. Should she ask Jay to get her some water?
Jason munches on some chips. “It’s pretty cool that you ran away,” he whispers. “It’ll show your parents who’s boss.”
Natasha can feel the spittle and the crumbs as he talks. “It’s so unfair!” she whispers. “Why’d this have to happen to me?”
Jason keeps chewing. “Sometimes bad stuff happens to good people. Bad stuff happened to me before, too.”
“Like what?” Natasha can feel tears brimming again. The cheese smell from the Doritos has started to stink up the closet. She’s too hot with her jacket still on. The Careys have a garage out back—maybe she can hide out there. Except then what will she do in the morning when Josie’s dad goes to get his car for work?
“Like...” Jason hesitates. “Swear you won’t tell anyone?”
Natasha nods.
“One time one of my older cousins came over, and she said she would show me some magic tricks. She had a whole set, like a wand and trick cards and this long rainbow scarf she pulled out of her sleeve. She made me lie down on the floor and she tied my arms to the chair with the scarf. Then she said—presto, change-o, I’m going to make you feel good. And she started touching me, like, down there.”
Natasha stares. “Are you serious?” At school they learned about stranger danger, and about how nobody is supposed to touch kids in their bathing suit area. This wasn’t a stranger, though—this was his cousin, actually, and she was a kid, too, kind of, a teenager, but still—Natasha’s gut tells her it’s wrong. “You have to tell your parents,” she says.
Jason scowls. “No way!”
“That’s sexual abuse!” Natasha whispers loudly.
“No it’s not—my cousin’s a girl.” Jason crosses his arms. “She’s older than me, she knows stuff—”
“So?” Natasha had heard that sexual abuse was from creepy old guys. But… “Kids aren’t supposed to do sex stuff.”
“Shut up!” Jason hisses. “I made it up, okay? I was just trying to make you feel better.”
“You’re lying.” Natasha feels lightheaded.
“No I’m not!”
“Jason?” Mrs. Carey calls from upstairs. “You better not be playing video games down there unless your homework is done.”
“I’ll be right back,” Jason says, and scrambles out of the closet, closes the door behind him before Natasha can say anything.
Alone, Natasha feels so sick she might throw up. She shuts her eyes and takes a few deep breaths, picturing Jason’s older cousins, the ones they’d gone swimming with at the cabin. She’d always assumed it was one of the boys who pushed her into the pool, but Josie and Jay had a lot of cousins. Should she say something? She needs to get out. She can sneak out the back before Jason comes back down. Maybe her dad will kill her for running away, or maybe he hasn’t even noticed. She will make him tell her where her mom is. But what if her mom actually doesn’t want her? What if her mom moved out to make a fresh start, and she is breaking up with Natasha’s dad and Natasha?
It’s too much—being in the closet like this. Trapped with her secrets, his secrets. She’s just a kid.
Just as she’s made up her mind to sneak out, Jason pops back in.
Natasha scrambles to her feet. “I’m gonna go home.”
Jason looks less angry. “I swear that never happened to me
. It was from a movie I saw. I just said it so you’d feel better.” Okay, maybe. But he’d seemed pretty serious. Natasha twiddles with the frayed edge of the rainbow friendship bracelet from Josie on her wrist.
“My cousin doesn’t even have a magic kit,” Jason adds. “If you tell anyone, you’re just going to get her in trouble. You could mess up her whole life saying she did something like that. I swear!” He puts his hands on her upper arms and squeezes. “I swear!”
“Okay,” Natasha says, and wriggles away. She doesn’t want to get anyone in trouble. “I won’t tell.”
ABBY
I KNOW IT’S REUBEN CALLING WHEN MY PHONE RINGS JUST as Cam is getting close to orgasm. Reuben’s number is the only one with a ringtone that sounds like a home security system going off. When I got my new phone, I set the ringtone to the loudest, most obnoxious one for Reuben so that I would never miss it. He hasn’t called in so long. The last time my phone sounded the alarm, I was driving down Crowchild Trail, and I grabbed for it in the console but missed, knocked it to the floor. I braked hard, veered into the right shoulder, flung open the door as cars hurtled by. All he wanted to tell me was that he’d been contacted by a journalist wanting to do an article on missing person’s cases in Canada and he thought it could be good publicity.
I know it’s Reuben calling and I know it’s bad. I just feel it.
I slam both palms into Cam’s bare chest, heaving him off of me. I scramble naked off the bed. “Where’s my phone?!” I fling the blankets and sheets off the mattress. I can hear it, but I can’t find it. “Where’s my phone?!”
“What the hell?” Cam can barely catch his breath.
There it is! I grab it up from the floor. “Hello?”
Cam moves closer. “Are you okay?”
I push him away, trying to make sense of what Reuben’s saying. Cam starts getting dressed. Goosebumps prickle my bare arms, breasts. I squeeze the hand that’s not holding the phone into a fist, nails into my palm.
“What’s the matter?” Cam asks.
I can’t say it, but I do. “They found my sister’s body.”
JOSIE
WHILE SUMMER AND FINN SET UP JOSIE’S OLD MONOPOLY game at the kitchen table, Josie goes to the window and stares out at the rainy street. At work, they sent around an email that some communities were being evacuated due to possible flooding and power disruptions, but Josie’s home was outside of that range, as was Summer’s private school, so she hadn’t paid much attention. Now things seem more dangerous. But then, she knows how dangerous a small storm can be, too.
July 6th, 2002—the storm had come and gone so quickly. Josie had spent that evening at choir practice and had stayed late to straighten up the church, to practice some of the songs alone, to listen to her solo voice carry throughout the empty pews. Our God is an awesome God, he reigns from Heaven above, with wisdom, power and love, our God is an awesome God.
Father Tucker, their new, thirty-five-year-old pastor, had wandered in and asked what she was doing there so late, and he’d said, “You have a beautiful heart for Jesus,” and then, “And a beautiful voice.” Josie had blushed. It was late—almost ten. When she’d exited the church, the sidewalk looked wet, but the air felt warm, deliciously humid. She drove home with the radio off, still singing hymns. When she got home, Solomon asked where she’d been so late, and when she told him about Father Tucker’s compliments, he’d accused her of flirting.
Why hadn’t she called Natasha to say goodnight, to hear her best friend’s voice one more time, instead of listening to her own voice echo inside the empty church? Why had she let their spat drag on instead of calling to extend an olive branch?
She hoped Summer and Finn could be friends. Finn would turn thirteen soon, but it didn’t feel like she’d lost him to adolescence just yet. He helped her do the dishes, told silly knock-knock jokes, invited her to shoot hoops with him and was patient with her when she had no idea what a three-pointer was. Neither Summer nor Finn had ever actually played Monopoly before. Summer unfolded the rules to read them, while Finn fiddled with the silver playing pieces and kept getting up and down from his chair, first to get a glass of water, then to check his cellphone. Seriously, a cellphone at thirteen? Josie was starting to think maybe he had AD/HD, like his father—although his report card this semester had come back all As and Bs.
She’d convinced Finn’s mother, Angie, to enroll Finn in Summer’s private school starting in September by offering to pay the full tuition. Now she’d have to convince Angie to let the school psychologist do some tests—or pay for a private assessment, that would be faster. Jason had been so smart—always getting into trouble, but still so smart. Her parents hadn’t wanted to “label” Jason—they’d blamed all his problems—how long it had taken him to get his college diploma, his experimentation with substances, his rocky relationship with Angie—on the epilepsy.
For many years now, Jason had been third in her nightly prayer sequence, after first thanking the Lord for her abundant blessings, and then praying for Natasha to be found. She prayed nightly to absolve herself of the guilt she felt for not being more supportive of her brother, for feeling superior, for having her education, her job, her marriage, while he struggled. After Jason passed, she’d prayed for Jesus to have mercy on her brother’s indiscretions, to welcome him into the loving arms of Heaven.
Some nights, she prayed for Solomon. Some nights she didn’t. The nights after she didn’t pray for Solomon she prayed twice for Solomon, and for absolution for the sin of not praying for her husband in spite of his transgressions. She and Solomon were still married in the eyes of the church. She’d made her vows for better or for worse. She’d phoned Solomon in tears the night Jason died, but he’d refused to come to the funeral, stating that he was taking private time to let God speak to him.
He’d left his job and applied for employment insurance, but the payments weren’t much. A life in the ministry was a calling, Solomon often said. Josie would have liked to pursue some of her own callings, but someone had to pay the bills. Solomon’s extra apartment was going to cost them fifteen hundred a month. After he refused to come to the funeral, Josie hadn’t prayed for Solomon for three days. Mercifully, Angie had allowed Finn to come to see his father put to rest, though Angie herself had declined.
“It’s raining cats and dogs!” Josie joked, moving away from the window as Summer distributed colourful bills. The kids looked blankly at Josie; clearly they’d never heard this expression before. When did she get so old?
“Do you want to play?” Finn asked.
“No, you two go ahead.” She should probably check the forecast again, wait for the rain to let up before making the drive across the city to take Summer back to Natasha’s. She still thinks of the house as Natasha’s. Will Abby ever get her own place? And, if so, what will happen if Natasha ever comes back? No one else believes this is possible, but there was a recent case in the States where a young girl was finally rescued after being held prisoner for almost two decades. Maybe Josie is the only one still holding out hope, but someone has to. She searches Calgary weather on her phone.
Evacuations? Possible flooding? Not good. Josie examines the map on the city website. Thankfully, her house is outside the zone, as is Natasha’s. Abby’s not the safest driver, and poor visibility makes Josie nervous. Josie tries to figure out if she could take a different route to Natasha’s and back without crossing through any red zones, but it doesn’t look good. Not only that, but the rain seems to have intensified. Maybe Summer could borrow one of Josie’s T-shirts and stay the night. Josie is babysitting Finn for the weekend anyway, maybe for the last time, since he will be old enough to stay home by himself, soon. He and Summer could keep each other company.
Abby answers Josie’s call right away, but asks, “Did you talk to Reuben?” before Josie can ask about the rain. Josie immediately goes into the other room, not wanting the kids to overhear. Abby keeps going—they’ve found skeletal remains in a park.
“I
s it her?” Josie asks. Her body goes numb. It can’t be.
Abby bursts into tears. “Reuben says it’ll take awhile to know for sure, they haven’t found the...the head...but they might postpone the search because of the weather. What if the rain washes everything away before they find...? I want to come get Summer and go down to the station. Maybe he’ll tell me more in person. I know it’s her.”
“They’re closing roads. Have you been watching the news? That’s what I was calling you about. It’s not safe to drive right now. I think Summer should stay here.”
“I want her with me,” Abby insists. Sometimes Abby treats Summer like a best friend instead of a daughter. Last Halloween, the two of them dressed up as ketchup and mustard, which reminded Josie of the matching costumes she and Natasha used to wear.
“She’s safer here.” These bones must be someone else’s, especially if they were just found now. A more recent skeleton, someone else’s missing loved one, even though Josie isn’t aware of any missing Calgarians in recent years. “Where did they find the skeleton?” Josie asks. “What park?” She paces over to her bedroom window, peeks through the blinds.
“Fish Creek Park!” Abby says. “A dog found her, under some plants.” Fish Creek Park? The exact spot Greg and his students tromped around collecting soil samples? If Josie were the type to swear, to take the Lord’s name in vain, now would be the time. She reaches for her book of daily devotions, rifles the worn pages back and forth with her thumb. “Abby,” Josie says as calmly as possible, “are you alone?”
“No. I have...a friend is here.”
“Is it Greg?”
“No. Should I call him?”
Josie rifles the pages again. Of course Abby hasn’t made the connection. Abby never doubted Greg, not even when the accusation about domestic violence came out. “No, don’t do that. It’s late. Wait until we know.” Josie needs to talk to Reuben right away. “Stay there,” she tells Abby. “I’ll call you right back.”
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