It was hard to wipe the smile off my face, even as we lay there. All I wanted to do was stay with him, our limbs entwined, slipping in and out of a dreamy sort of half sleep. We eventually got up because we were both famished, but first we decided to take a shower. Showering with a guy was something I’d never done before, but with Jason, it just felt like the most normal thing to do. We took turns standing underneath the spray of warm water, and I admired his body when it was his turn and he had his head back, eyes closed, as rivulets of water ran down his muscular chest, his chiseled abs. He was getting hard again, and I reached down and touched him.
My hand moved easily around him; he felt like a steel rod cloaked within the softest of satin. He took a step back so we were both under the spray of water, and he brought his hands up to my breasts, gently squeezing my nipples. That lightest of touches made me gasp, made my shoulders fall back as my nipples hardened to little points underneath his fingertips. I could’ve have stayed like that forever, underneath the warm water, his hands on me. But I could tell he was getting close; his breath was coming in short gasps and he was so hard it felt as though he might be on the verge of exploding.
He lifted me and I wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist. My back was pressed up against the side of the shower as he slowly entered me. My breath caught in my throat as he did so, and then I exhaled slowly as he pushed himself all the way in. He groaned softly, kissing the length of my neck as the warm water cascaded down over us both. It was almost like being in a waterfall, and I closed my eyes and listened to the white noise of the water falling, let myself fall into the feeling of the shower wall on one side of me, Jason on the other, the feeling that I couldn’t move, that I was trapped. But it wasn’t a scary feeling—in fact, it aroused me even more to think that he had me here and could essentially do as he pleased.
“That’s a good girl,” he whispered as I arched my back against him, trying to get him as deep inside of me as I could. The water made our bodies slick, but his grip on me was strong. I ran my hands down his back, felt those sturdy, supple muscles of his. He moved his hands around so he was cupping my ass as he rocked his hips back and forth, penetrating me to the core. It was as if our bodies could somehow become one, like we could fuse ourselves together as we were supposed to be. Here was this person, reaching somewhere inside me that no one had been before, and we were experiencing something together that I had never experienced with anyone else.
When it was over, my legs felt like jello, my inner thighs throbbing, a deliciously wonderful soreness.
“Well,” Jason said as we were toweling off, “I wasn’t planning on doing that, but it was certainly a pleasant deviation. Now I really am famished, though.”
“I am too. I know this good little café nearby.”
We got dressed, and I made sure to put that scarf on before we left. I thought it looked like maybe the bruises were fading a little bit, but they were still very noticeable, and it wasn’t something that I felt like getting into a conversation about with a stranger.
I drove us down to Chickadees, Jason’s hand resting on my upper thigh, his forefinger tracing light circles right above my knee cap.
“It’s cute up here,” Jason said. “I can see why you live here. Close enough to the city but definitely not urban.”
“I love this area,” I said. “And I love my little house. I’m hoping the owner will eventually sell it to me, but I don’t know if that will actually ever happen.”
As we approached Main Street, I saw a car that looked like my father’s, heading in the opposite direction. My shoulders tensed, but then the car went past and it wasn’t him. I let out a little sigh of relief; I did not want to have to see him right now.
Oliver was working, and I gave him a big smile as we approached the counter.
“Did you get some good news about Isa?” he asked.
“What? Oh, no,” I said. “We haven’t heard anything new.”
“Oh, sorry. You just have such a big smile on your face I thought that maybe you got some good news about that.” He looked at Jason. “Hey, man.”
“This is Oliver,” I said, trying to wipe the smile from my face. “Oliver, this is my boyfriend, Jason.” It felt strange to say it out loud, but it also felt right.
If I wasn’t mistaken, though, Oliver seemed a little taken aback, as if he couldn’t believe that I would have a boyfriend like Jason. I frowned, but Jason didn’t seem to notice.
We ordered smoothies and sandwiches, and then went and sat at a table by the big front window. I could feel the guilt starting to creep back in, beginning to eclipse the good feelings that I’d been having.
“Everything okay?” Jason asked. “You just got this really weird look on your face.”
I glanced toward the counter, where Oliver was dumping things in the Vitamix for our smoothies.
“It’s nothing.”
“Really? Because a few minutes ago you had the biggest smile on your face and now you look like someone just told you that you ran over their favorite kitten.”
I sighed. “I’m just... I’m just getting that feeling again that maybe I shouldn’t be enjoying things right now, that I should really just be focusing on doing what I can to find Isa. And even if I can’t find Isa, I shouldn’t be out going on dates and getting boyfriends.”
“Boyfriends?” Jason said with a smile. “I didn’t realize I was one of many.”
“You know what I mean,” I said. “You’re definitely not one of many. You’re like, the one and only. But is the timing right? My sister is still missing; maybe I shouldn’t be getting involved with anyone.”
“So you’re saying that you should never enjoy your life again? That you should never be able to go out and have a smile on your face or do something that you like? I know this is probably going to sound a little cold, but life goes on, no matter what. Whether someone is missing, or they change jobs, or get divorced, or die, life goes on, and it’s not fair to you if you never do anything that gives you pleasure again because you feel like you somehow don’t deserve that. Nothing could be further from the truth.”
I wanted to believe him. And part of me did—what if something really bad had happened to Isa and I never saw her again? People died all the time, and while that was awful for their family and friends, Jason was right—life did go on. It wasn’t like this was just some sort of fling, either, some one-night stand. I had no way of seeing the future, of course, but I hoped that whatever Jason and I had going between us would be something that lasted.
We were just finishing up our sandwiches when I heard my phone vibrating in my purse. I dug it out, but not in time to pick up the call, which was from my mom. I waited for a minute to see if she’d leave a voicemail.
“Let me just listen to this message from my mom,” I said. I listened to it, and then put the phone back in my purse. “It sounds like she’s freaking out a little bit. She wants me to come by. They don’t live too far from here. You want to come with me? You’re under no obligation to say yes,” I added.
“I’m totally fine with that,” he said. “I’d be happy to meet your mother. As long as you don’t think that’ll make things worse.”
“Why would it make things worse?”
“Well, you know... what you said before about her being agoraphobic and everything... I don’t know if it might stress her out more to have someone she doesn’t know coming over.”
“It might be a good distraction.”
I took one final bite of my sandwich and we got up and threw our stuff away. I said bye to Oliver, who just gave me a little wave, even though he wasn’t with any customers.
“He likes you,” Jason said once we were outside.
“Who? Oliver?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you catch that look on his face when you told him I was your boyfriend?”
We walked over to my car and got in. “I guess he did kind of give me a funny look. But I thought that was because he was surprised someone lik
e you would go out with someone like me.”
Jason had an amused look on his face. “And what on earth is that supposed to mean?”
“Well... you’re clearly out of my league.”
He laughed as he buckled his seatbelt. “Girl, what are you talking about? Sounds like you need a serious self-esteem boost if you think that I’m way out of your league. Because that couldn’t be further from the truth.”
***
When we got to my parents’ house, it was unsurprising to see that it looked like no one was home, the front door firmly shut, the curtains covering all the windows. As we got out of the car, I saw one of the curtains in the living room move, as if someone had been peeking out but didn’t want us to know they were there. It was hot enough that Mom probably had the central AC going, which would be good, because then the house wouldn’t feel as stale. At least I hoped. There wasn’t really a reason to feel any trepidation about this, but I still had to take a deep breath as we approached the front door. All of a sudden I felt like I was back in high school again, bringing a new boy over for the first time.
The house was cool and dim when we stepped inside, chilled air quietly blowing from the vents.
“Hello?” I called as I shut the door behind us.
My mother appeared from the kitchen. “Emmy,” she said. “You got my message?”
“Hi, Mom,” I said. “Yes, I did. And I brought someone I wanted you to meet. This is Jason. We were over at Chickadees when you called and I thought we’d just swing by.”
“Oh... hello. I’m Miriam.” She shot me a look and I could tell that she was annoyed I hadn’t mentioned that I’d be bringing someone with me. Her hand went up to her head as if to smooth her hair, which was pulled back in a braid down the middle of her back. Not a hair was out of place. But her hand still patted, several times, until she brought her arm down, clasping her hands in front of her.
She was nervous, I realized suddenly. And not just the run-of-the-mill nervousness—nervous in the way of someone who wants to make a good impression.
“I wish Emmeline would have told me that I was going to have company because I would have cleaned up a little,” she said, gesturing to the already immaculate house.
“No need to go out of your way for me,” Jason said. “It’s great to meet you, though. And I’m really sorry about all of this with Isa. I know it must be incredibly hard for you.”
“Jason was one of the security guards working the night that Isa disappeared,” I said.
He winced. “Which means I feel about as guilty as you could imagine that any of this happened in the first place.”
“No, no,” Mom said. “It’s not your fault at all. Has someone suggested that? Please don’t think that. Come in—why don’t we go sit in the living room and I’ll get everyone some lemonade.”
She led us to the living room and then was off to the kitchen, yelling over her shoulder about some cookies that she had baked earlier.
“She seems nice,” Jason whispered. “I’m not sure what I was expecting but she seems totally... normal.” He looked around. “The house looks good, too. I was thinking it might look like it was out of a scene from Hoarders or something.”
“No, she’s not a hoarder at least. That would probably be the last straw for my dad. You’re right, though... she does seem pretty normal today. It isn’t always that way.”
Mom came bustling back in a moment later, carrying a tray with a pitcher of lemonade, three glasses, and a plate of chocolate-chip cookies.
“I so rarely have guests,” Mom said. “Please, help yourself to as many as you’d like. It’s so nice to finally meet you, Jason. How long have you and Emmy known each other?”
I glanced at him as he broke a cookie in half and took a bite. “Not that long,” he said. “And it was totally by chance. I just happened to be back down at the club the day after... Isa went missing, and I ran into Emmy. It was kind of a shock, because I didn’t know they were twins.”
“I’m sure that must’ve been! When the girls were little, they would sometimes pretend to be each other and see how many people they could fool. Sometimes they’d even have their father fooled, but not me, even if they swapped clothes. I was never one for putting them in matching outfits, even when they were babies. But I could always tell who was who.”
“Speaking of Dad,” I said, “where is he?”
“Your father went out,” Mom said. “He was going down to the police station to talk with the officers.”
“You didn’t want to go with him?”
She looked at me as if I were crazy. “Of course I wanted to go with him, but you know that’s not possible, Emmy. And he was fine with that, anyway. He doesn’t mind.”
Yeah, and I know exactly why he doesn’t mind, I thought. Because he’s also probably going to see that woman.
“That’s a pretty scarf you’re wearing,” Mom said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear it before.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ve had it for a while.”
“Is that some sort of new fashion statement you’re trying out?” She smiled. “A scarf in summer?”
“I just thought it went well with my outfit,” I said, hoping she wasn’t next going to ask if I would mind taking it off so she could see it.
“Well, I like it.”
“Thanks. So... is everything okay?” I took a sip of the lemonade, which was pleasantly tart and just a little sweet. “This is good.”
“I’ve been baking and cooking and making all sorts of things,” my mother said. “I need to keep busy. Of course, I’ve made so many things I’ve actually had to start throwing some out.”
“Really? That seems kind of wasteful.”
“I’d be happy to send you home with something. The two of you. You can put it in the freezer if you don’t think you’ll eat it right away.” She looked at Jason. “Do you do much cooking?”
I raised an eyebrow as I set my glass down. Why did she ask him that? And then I wondered if she recognized him—one of my mother’s guilty pleasures was reality TV, though she’d never admit it. She didn’t discriminate when it came to what she watched—Keeping up with The Kardashians, The Real Housewives, one of those singing shows. It was entirely possible that she’d seen the show Jason had been on, and maybe even knew about what he’d gone through.
“I do enjoy cooking,” Jason said. “Though it’s not something I’ve done recently.”
“It really is quite soothing. It’s hard now, though, it just being Emmy’s father and me. And he’s the sort of man who could eat a TV dinner with the same appreciation he’d eat beef bourguignon.”
Jason smiled. “That’s one of my favorites. The beef bourguignon, not the TV dinners.”
Mom laughed long and loud, as if he’d just said the most clever thing she’d ever heard. I couldn’t help but marvel at how different she seemed around him, this carefree spirit she seemed to have adopted. It was good to see her not riddled with anxiety, shot through with fear about the outside world, yet it was also a little strange, because she was, in her own way, flirting with him.
After a few minutes, Mom went back out to the kitchen to get more lemonade and Jason went to use the bathroom, which left me alone in the living room. I got up and went over to the mantelpiece, looked at the framed photographs. They hadn’t changed in years. Mostly they were pictures from my childhood—the Christmas Isa and I were nine; a family vacation to San Diego; Isa and I at prom, her looking like a movie star, me looking like I was being forced to go somewhere I absolutely didn’t want to. It felt so long ago, those pictures, and yet it didn’t feel that long at all; I could still remember Isa leaning over to help me with my makeup, how it felt like she was putting way too much eyeliner on my eyelids, using too bright of a lipstick on my lips. I hadn’t looked like me when she was finished—I’d looked like her. But everyone only had good things to say about it when we came downstairs to find our dates waiting with corsages, waiting with the expectation of getti
ng laid after prom was over. (I hadn’t slept with my date, though as the night wore on it became increasingly clear that he’d been expecting that. Isa had gone all the way with her date, and possibly another guy or two, though that depends on whom you asked.)
And then, a family photo of the four of us, probably one of the last pictures taken when Mom would still venture outside. This one was only in the backyard, on the Fourth of July. My parents had thrown a little cookout, and someone must’ve snapped this photo of the four of us—I couldn’t remember who. In it, Isa’s laughing as she looks directly at the camera; my dad is too, though not with such gusto; Mom is looking at my dad—and I’m there, standing behind my mom’s chair, a smile on my face, though it doesn’t look to be entirely genuine, more like the person holding the camera had said, “Smile!” and I’d gamely tried to oblige.
I heard my phone chime with an incoming text, so I went back over to the couch and pulled it out of my purse.
The text read:
Hello. My name’s Desmond, and Les gave me your contact info. Am writing an article about Isa. Was wondering if we could meet up and chat?
Sure, I wrote back. We could definitely meet up.
Do you have any time today? I know it’s short notice. Tomorrow’s no good for me, but then I will be free the next couple of days, too, if today isn’t good.
I glanced up as Jason came back into the room. “Did you have a plan for the rest of the day?” I asked.
“Not really,” he said. “I do need to swing by the office at some point. Why, what’s up?”
I held my phone out to him as he came over and sat next to me. “I’ve been texting with this guy named Desmond. He’s a reporter. He wants to meet up and talk about Isa.”
“Hmm.” Jason handed the phone back to me. “You think that’s a good idea?”
“I don’t see why not. I don’t think he’s a sketchy person, seeing as Les gave him my number. Les wouldn’t give my number out to someone who wasn’t okay.”
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