Domestic Secrets

by Rosalind Noonan

  Cassie moved past the ladder and joined Malika at the window nook. “How’s it going, Leeks?” she asked, feeling a surprising tenderness for her sister’s friend.

  “I can’t stop thinking about her, Cassie.” Malika’s amber eyes were shadowed, haunted by the memory. “I keep going through the details in my head, spinning the scene like a bad video, playing it over and over again to see things I wish I could forget. I . . . maybe I should go. My mother told me to stay home, but I wanted to be with my friends.”

  “Does it help to talk about it?” Cassie asked. When Malika nodded, she said, “Then tell me again.”

  “We were on our way up the stairs. The first bell had already rung.” Malika twirled the rings on her fingers as she spoke. Banded silver rings, some with amber and jade and moonstone. Although her narration was a bit jumpy, she was totally tuned in to the bits of conversation she had heard between Jared and Remy.

  “Remy was happy to see him at first. Like, ‘Hey, buddy, how’s it going?’ She did that teasing thing with him. Then she was all, ‘You’re asking me to the prom? What’s your girlfriend going to think?’ She said it in that sweet Remy way, but you could tell it was a little dig.”

  “Does Jared Whalen have a girlfriend?” Cassie asked.

  “Not that any of us know.” Malika shrugged. “Maybe someone from another school. I dunno. Some of the juniors in Gleetime were crushing on him this year, but he never made a move.”

  Aunt Rachel would know the answer to that. Cassie had wanted to talk to Rachel at the courthouse today, but that would have made Mom sizzle like an angry feline, and Cassie was not up for a catfight.

  “I couldn’t hear everything they said, but I got the gist of it. Remy told him she was going to prom with her girlfriends, and she was chill with that. And then he started getting upset, like, ‘You gotta go with me. Seriously. For real.’”

  The details held Cassie spellbound as she imagined herself watching this from the school corridor. The truth was in the details. If she could understand that moment, how things had transpired, she believed it would be easier to lay it all to rest.

  “Remy stood her ground, and she told Jared that he was really sick. Like a sicko-psycho. That made him crazy mad. He kept telling her that she had to go to prom with him. When Remy screamed, I ran upstairs to get help.” Malika’s lips puckered, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to keep from sobbing. “I ran away. I was scared, but I should have stayed and helped her. But I ran.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Cassie said, though Malika didn’t seem to hear. “You tried to help.”

  Lost in her own grief, Malika sobbed quietly. Cassie opened her arms for an embrace that was, surprisingly, not awkward at all. It no longer seemed to matter that these were popular girls embracing someone who had straddled the lines of geek and zero in high school. The lines of division were blurred and broken now.

  Most of the stars were down in the first half hour. Noticing the playlist playing from Remy’s computer, Cassie asked Sophia how she got in. “Isn’t it password protected?”

  “Her password is HAPPYDANCE. She uses that for everything.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  Sophia swept her hair back as she tipped her moon-shaped face up to inspect the room. “Tell me you’re leaving the corkboard up. Remy and I put it up together.” She ran her fingers over the fake jade stones of a necklace, and then lifted a pendant depicting metal hands holding a blue stone. “You have to keep this stuff exactly as it is.”

  “Maybe her jewelry,” Cassie said. She longed to scoop all the shiny necklaces and earrings into a bag and be done with them, but these girls would think that was irreverent.

  “There are some things you just have to keep forever,” Sophia said reverently.

  For what? Cassie wondered. To turn the room into a memorial for Remy? A holy shrine? That seemed wrong to Cassie. To dote over the scraps of Remy’s life would be a waste of time. Her instincts told her to clean house, try to move on, to donate Remy’s clothes and things to someone who could use them. That was what Remy would want. She would take care of that when the girls were gone.

  In the meantime, Sophia shared a few tips on how to navigate Remy’s computer. She showed Cassie the folders where Remy had stored photos and videos of herself and her friends. Although the police still had Remy’s cell phone, there was a ton of stuff here. While Sophia was talking with the others, Cassie found a folder marked jared n me. She clicked on a doc that opened up to an old junior high video of Remy and Jared in clown suits, singing and dancing to “Popular.” It was riveting to see them having fun together so many years ago, but there was also something horrifying about it, and she clicked it closed before anyone noticed. From the names on the folders she realized that there were many recordings of Remy and Jared performing together. Cassie would take a closer look later.

  When Sophia played the “Feelin’ Groovy” video, the girls melted. There were tears and hugs as they recalled stories about little things Remy did to make them laugh or help them through a bad day. Observing from her spot on the bed, Cassie felt that familiar knot of emotion in her throat. She was starting to find that tears were contagious. Malika was sobbing while Rosie hugged her tight, and Kristina’s voice broke as she finished a story. Everyone was crying, including Cassie. Farewell, Queen of Numb.

  “I know what we need. Something to remember Remy by.” Sophia turned to the computer once again, scrolling through the thousands of selfies Remy had downloaded. Looking back through them was like going through a timeline of Remy’s high school years. Cassie allowed the girls to e-mail copies of the photos to themselves, figuring Remy would want that.

  When the girls headed out, Cassie breathed a sigh of relief to be alone again, minus the drama and teen angst and high emotion. She worked voraciously then, filling a dozen grocery bags with Remy’s clothes and stacking them by the door. Her schoolbooks were in a stack to go back to the school. Most of her school papers and notebooks went into the paper recycling bin, though Cassie did pull out her creative writing notebook to hang on to. Tomorrow she would tackle the junk in her closet baskets.

  “Someone’s been busy,” Eli commented when Cassie dumped a load of papers into the recycling bin. He was sitting in a lounge chair, holding his hand behind his back.

  “I’ve been cleaning up. And you don’t have to hide the joint.”

  “You want?”

  She shook her head. “But I could use a hand, carting this stuff down to my car.”

  “You’re moving fast. You know, once you give her things away, there’s no getting them back.”

  “It’s now, or in a few weeks. And I don’t want the task looming ahead. I’m not like my mother. I’m a doer, Eli.”

  “I see that.”

  A shriek from upstairs sent them both running inside.

  Maisy and Trevor stared, horrified, at the piles of bags collected for donation.

  “What are you doing with Remy’s stuff?” Trevor demanded.

  When Cassie explained that she was passing the clothing on to people who needed it, both children burst into tears.

  “You’re throwing Remy away!” Trevor accused in a sullen voice.

  “But I want Remy’s clothes,” Maisy insisted as she plucked a tank top and a flouncy skirt from the bag and held it up to her. “I’m going to wear this stuff. I’ll wear it all someday.”

  “No, you won’t,” Cassie insisted. “It will be out of style by the time you grow into it.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Cassie bit back her impatience. Of course, she didn’t want to throw Remy away, but it was ridiculous to hold on to her possessions. “Listen, guys, I know this is hard, but we need to clear these things out.”

  “No!” Maisy demanded, tears shining in her eyes.

  “Why are you being so mean?” Trevor asked.

  “I’m not mean, I’m practical!” Cassie insisted, but the sight of their sad eyes peering up at her broke her resolv
e. A sudden surge of emotion overtook her, causing her throat to thicken, her eyes to tear up. “Fine!” she roared. “Do what you want. Keep this stuff until it rots away.” Throwing up her hands, Cassie stormed downstairs, took Eli’s seat on the lounge chair, and began to sob. She missed her sister, she hated being the bad guy in all this, and she was furious that no one understood how she was feeling. And where was Eli now that she could really use that joint?

  When the glass door slid open a few minutes later, the worst of the storm had passed. Eli shuffled out and perched on the chair beside her knees. “I told Maisy to pick out what she wants.”

  “None of that stuff is going to fit her for years.” She sniffed. “And by then, it will look ridiculous.”

  He shrugged. “So you’ll store it in the attic and throw it out in a few years. Let Trevor pick out some mementoes, too. No harm done.”

  “I was just trying to move forward,” she said, her voice cracking with pathetic emotion. “I’m not going to soak in the tub and cry like Mom. I’m taking action.”

  “We all grieve differently. For you? You need a clean sweep. So you’ll move the bags out of the house as fast as you can. You’re doing the right thing, but that doesn’t make it any less painful.”

  That night, Rachel didn’t want KJ to realize she was pushing him out the door after serving him up two turkey burgers and a green salad.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” he asked as she hugged him in the kitchen. She would have walked him to his car, but the news trucks parked on the street prohibited free movement in front of the house. They were waiting, watching.

  “You’ve got your own responsibilities back at school. If you’re leaving the team, you’ll definitely want to keep that job through the summer. I’ll be fine.” I can do this, I can do this. “Drive safe, honey. You should be there before dark.”

  “Love you,” he said, pulling the side door open.

  “To the moon and back.” Rachel closed the door behind him, bolted it, and leaned back with her eyes closed as the impact of the latest development set in.

  When KJ had his ten minutes with Jared, there had been only one odd request. Jared wanted to see Ariel.

  “Ariel?” Rachel had winced. “He might as well have asked to see the Pope. Or the President. Or Lady Gaga. It’s not going to happen.”

  “I told him he was crazy, but that sort of backfired. He kept crying and begging me to talk to Ariel.”

  “Ariel? That’s crazy. She’ll never talk to him again, and I can’t say that I blame her.”

  “Well, that’s what he wants, and he held firm when I tried to talk him out of it.”

  “Why does he want to see her? Do you think he wants to ask for her forgiveness?”

  “Who knows?”

  The conversation replayed in Rachel’s mind as she set to scrubbing her house. Wiping the stovetop, she tried to imagine Jared’s face as he asked for Ariel. As she Swiffered the kitchen floor, she tried to imagine what Jared was thinking, where he expected his case to go.

  Pausing only to send a text to Ariel, she moved upstairs to Jared’s room and dusted the nearly vacant surfaces. Buffing the dresser to a high gleam and leaving a scent of lemon in her wake, she flashed back to better days when this room was inhabited by Remy and Cassie while Jared bunked in with his brother. When commercial gigs came up for Ariel, she had needed to be in the Los Angeles area for a week or so, and had relied on Rachel to watch the kids. Having a houseful, Rachel had been reminded of the big family she’d grown up in. Always someone around and underfoot. Comforting and a little crazy.

  She stripped the bed, put on clean sheets, and puffed the pillows as if Jared would be returning any day. Her instincts told her no, but she could always hope.

  After her prolonged cleaning spree she fell into bed and slept, with the help of some Advil PM. In the morning, the tidy, lemon-scented house made her feel more in control of her life.

  I can do this.

  Over coffee and whole-grain toast, she noticed that the news satellite trucks were still there, the cameramen shooting her house from the foot of the driveway. When were they going to back off? For now, she would risk attending the eight o’clock Mass. Although she wasn’t up for a public appearance, she needed to be in a place of hope today.

  After a quick shower she slipped on her simplest black dress, wrapped an emerald-green scarf around her neck, and checked herself in the mirror. She added her sunglasses. If she had to go in public, she would allow herself the safety of shades.

  Stepping out the side door, she heard the rising voices of the reporters and neighbors assembled in the street.

  “There she is!”

  “It’s so awful!”

  Ignoring them, she turned toward the garage and stopped in her tracks. Someone had tagged the garage in red paint that read: KILLER.

  Chapter 30

  “I like this picture of Remy sitting on the kitchen counter,” Maisy said. “She was so little then. Why was she sitting by the sink?”

  Cassie leaned close to her sister to peer at the laptop screen. “That was in Rachel’s kitchen, probably when we were staying with her. Remy was, like, five or six then. She used to hop onto the counter so she could watch the birds in the feeder outside the window.”

  “Aw. I want a copy of this one, too,” Maisy said fondly.

  “Let’s put it on your list, peanut,” Cassie said.

  Trevor craned his neck to take a look. “I’ll write it down for her.” He shoved a forkful of waffle into his mouth and reached for the pen.

  “Don’t get syrup on the computer,” Maisy said, sounding too grown-up for her years.

  Cassie was relieved to have made amends with her younger siblings by offering to help them make up memory books with photos of Remy from the collection on her computer. They had spent most of Sunday morning looking through photos. Eli had made waffles with fresh blueberries, and although Trevor had gone overboard with the whipped cream, the morning had gone much better than yesterday’s fiasco. After discovering the gathered clothing, Maisy had run into Mom’s room to complain about Cassie, and Ariel had yelled at all three of them to leave her alone. That had subdued Maisy quickly, and Cassie had found herself hugging and consoling Trevor and Maisy. Ariel’s outburst had reminded Cassie that she needed to be here for her siblings right now.

  The photo project was a good diversion, though Cassie was careful to keep the kids away from some of the files on Remy’s computer. In a folder marked secrets, Cassie had discovered a collection of odd images that she still hadn’t had a chance to sort through. With Remy’s habit of documenting her life through selfies, her archives were extensive.

  “Do we get to miss school this week?” Trevor asked. “Chance Hamilton got to miss two weeks when his mother died.”

  “That’s nuts. Besides, don’t you want to go to school and be with your friends? It’ll get kind of boring, hanging around here.” Cassie thought it would be good for them to stick to the routine and be around friends. Besides, she needed some time to sort things out on her own.

  “But I don’t want to go to school,” Trevor complained. “Kids will be staring at me and asking me questions.”

  “You don’t have to tell anyone anything,” Cassie said. “Remember what we talked about with the photos? You have to take your memories and hold them in your heart.”

  He shook his head. “I’m never going back.”

  Never say never, she thought as the phone rang.

  Five minutes later, Cassie headed upstairs to roust Ariel from her cocoon. The bed was an island of twisted sheets and deflated, tousled pillows.

  “Mom, you need to get up. The detective working on Remy’s case called and he’s coming over to talk with you.”

  “What?” The mound in the sheets moved slightly. “Who’s coming over?”

  “Detective Shives. He’s coming over to return Remy’s stuff.” Her personal effects, the detective had said on the phone, sounding like a caricature
from a crime show.

  “Can’t you take her things? Tell Eli to talk to him,” Ariel muttered into the mattress.

  “He needs to talk to you. You’re her mother.” Her next of kin.

  “I can’t get out of this bed.”

  “You have to. It’s not just this, Mom. The kids need you. And there’s a vigil for Remy tonight down by the school.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “Well, I am. And I’m taking Trevor and Maisy. Eli thinks it will be good for them.” Cassie moved toward the bedside, flinching as she stepped on pills scattered on the carpet. “God, Mom.” She wanted to tell Ariel to pull herself together before she killed herself and traumatized Maisy and Trevor for life. But they had been down that road before, and right now any lecturing from Cassie would not penetrate Ariel’s coma.

  “Come on.” She had to yank on the sheet to tug it loose, but finally she had unsheathed her mother’s head and shoulders. Thank God Ariel was wearing a nightgown. “Do you want a bath or shower?”

  “Go away.”

  Cassie pulled the sheet off completely, then slid Ariel’s feet off the mattress so that they hovered over the floor. “Bath or shower?”

  “I hate this,” Ariel hissed.

  “I hate it more.”

  Ariel sat up with a groan, then rose unsteadily. Cassie put a hand around her waist and guided her into the master bathroom. The shower seemed like a safer bet, so Cassie got the water started and left the room when Ariel felt her way into the tiled stall.

  One bottle was empty, turned on its side, but Cassie snatched up the long-neck bottle of whiskey, then put it down again so that she could gather the scattered pills. She had to pick them out of the shag carpet, and she dropped them back into the container, fuzz and all. Whiskey and pills in hand, she tromped down the stairs to the kitchen, where Eli was scrubbing the griddle from breakfast.