by Vi Keeland
I sit up, looking out the tall Plexiglas window and watch the endless miles of desert pass for a while. It’s barren and bleak, much like I feel. Only four hours of the twenty-hour bus trip has passed. Six more till we change at the New Mexico border. The older woman who sat next to me at the bus station last night smiles and offers me a bottle of water.
“Thanks.” I take it, having brought none of my own supplies. It’s not really like it was a planned trip.
“Where are you heading?” she asks.
“Texas.”
“Vacation?”
I think about it for a moment before responding. “No. Heading home.” My voice is glum.
She nods. “Well, I’m on my way to New Mexico. My sister passed away.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Didn’t really like her much, but thank you all the same.” She smiles warmly at me. “You seem sad, everything okay?”
“Yeah. Well, not really. But it will be when I get back home.”
“Home is a place we either love or dread going back to,” she offers. “I’m glad yours sounds like a place you love.”
“Is yours a place you dread?” I ask curiously. Based on what she’s already revealed about her sister, it definitely doesn’t sound like a place she loves.
“Yep. Been dreading going back for thirty years.”
“You haven’t been back home in that long?”
“Nope. Went back once after I moved away. It just didn’t feel like home anymore. Too many bad memories.”
I swallow down the memory of yesterday, thinking how a place I’d quickly grown to love, a place that actually felt like home, had come to feel like an imposter in only a few short hours. I nod at her, trying to be polite, but no longer wanting to talk. She takes the hint and falls asleep not long after.
Ashley and I text back and forth to help pass the time. She’s in class, but that doesn’t stop her from responding instantaneously. I’m not sure where I would be right now if I didn’t have her. The minute she heard my voice yesterday, she knew it wasn’t good news. She had no idea just how bad it was. The shock still hasn’t worn off for me. I’m afraid, once it does, I won’t be able to breathe again.
After a three-hour delay at the next station, my last bus finally pulls up. The line to board is shorter than the last, and I’m grateful it looks like I’ll get a seat to myself again. I’ve done nothing but sit for a full day, yet I’m more exhausted than I’ve ever been in my life.
I doze off a few minutes after we pass the Welcome to New Mexico sign, my brain replaying yesterday morning over and over in my head until the record is finally worn out. Dreams take over where my conscious state leaves off.
I’m four or maybe five years old and the man comes to visit me again. He comes every few weeks. He only stays an hour or two but we always have fun. Sometimes he takes me for ice cream, other times, like today, we go to the park. He pushes me on the swing high. Really high. Mom’s too afraid to let me soar through the air, she thinks I’m too little. But I’m not. I’m big and Mike doesn’t treat me like a baby.
After the park we go out for hamburgers. To a real restaurant, not the kind where you carry your food on a tray to the table yourself. The kind where someone else carries the tray for you. He tells me to put the white cloth napkin on my lap and smiles when I do.
“How has Mom been lately?” he asks. He always asks weird questions about Mom.
“She’s good. She’s been tired a lot lately. Sometimes it’s hard for her to get out of bed. But I can make toast for us,” I declare proudly.
“Do you cook anything else?”
“Sure. I cook eggs and chicken nuggets and spaghetti.”
“You use the top of the stove and the inside?”
“You mean the oven?”
He grins. “Yes, I mean the oven. Where is Mom when you’re cooking?”
“Sometimes she’s in bed. I told you she’s tired a lot lately. The Doctor gave her some new medicine. I have to bring it to her at 8, 12, 4, and again before I go to bed.”
“So you also dispense Mom’s medicine.”
“Dispense?” I crinkle up my nose like something smells bad.
“It means to give out.”
Oh. Then yes. I nod. He always asks so many questions. But he asks them fast, one right after the other, so it feels more like we’re playing a game. He smiles when I get some right. I like when he smiles. He doesn’t do it very much. He and Mom fight a lot when he comes to pick me up. Then he’s in a bad mood. They fight more when he drives me home too. I don’t think Mom likes him very much. But Mike loves Mom, he says so every time before he leaves.
“Do you have any friends, Nicole?”
“Not really,” I say feeling badly. I don’t want to disappoint him, but there isn’t much time for friends with Mom being sick lately.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to have a sister?”
I nod briskly. I’d love to have a sister. Then I could play all day and still keep watch on Mom.
Mike’s quiet on the ride back home. We pull into the driveway, he gives me a kiss on the forehead and pulls a flower out of the back seat like he always does. A purple lily. I run into my room as soon as I get in like I always do. I throw away the old lily and put in the new one. I keep it there until the next time he comes. It gets all shrively, but he always comes before it’s completely dead.
I hear them fighting a minute later. Mike yells something about his daughters. It sounds like he really wants to spend more time with them. I hope that doesn’t mean he won’t come visit anymore. He’s nice to me and takes me out. Mom doesn’t go out much anymore.
The fight gets louder and Mom screams at him to leave. She sounds pretty upset. I listen with my ear pressed to the door until the door slams and the car pulls out of the driveway. Then I go to check on Mom, like I always do.
“Mom? What are you doing?”
She’s shoving things into a garbage bag frantically. “We have to move tomorrow,” she says with that look I see on her face a lot lately.
I really don’t want to move again, it feels like we just got here. I like this place. There are even a few kids that live close by. I was hoping maybe I could even make some friends. But Mom looks upset. I hate to see her that way. “Okay Mommy.” I walk to where she is sitting on the floor, shoving things from the bottom drawer into the bag. I take the bag from her hands. “Did you remember to take your medicine at four?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Go back to bed. I’ll bring it to you and then I’ll pack the boxes for us.”
The bus grinds to an abrupt halt. My eyes dart open. I suddenly feel sick. I rush to the back of the bus and open the bathroom door, thank god it’s empty. I vomit before I even have a chance to slide the latch on the door to lock it.
Memories surge back to me like a dam that has been holding back a violent flood. It breaks, sucking me under so deep it’s hard to breathe. Memories of Mike. The picture of him clear as day for the first time with my eyes wide open. Mike…Dr. Michael Bennett…Emily’s father. All those family photos of him on Emily’s wall. He used to come visit me. Take me out to play. I was little, but I remember now. Why didn’t I remember before? Why didn’t he ever tell me he was my father?
I remember the day I threw out the last lily. It was shriveled and black, pieces flaked off of it when I touched it. Why did he stop coming to see me? What did I do wrong?
***
It’s impossible to fall asleep during the rest of the bus ride. Nine hours go by, things pass by outside my window, but it’s all a blur. Nothing makes sense. It’s all too much to be a coincidence.
I replay Mrs. Bennett grabbing my arm that day when I ran out of Zack’s house. She demanded to know what I was doing there. Did she know who I was? Did Zack know who I was the whole time too?
I agonize over the unknown every minute of every hour of the remaining trip. In the end, the only thing that I’m sure of is that my heart is broken.
Chapter 3
9
Zack
She never showed up for school, or for our date. At first I thought maybe she was scared. Afraid to go through with what we had planned for last night. But she didn’t answer my calls or my texts, so eventually I went to her Aunt’s house. She looked upset, but said Nikki had found out some information about her Mom that morning and probably needed some alone time.
I remember needing time away from everyone and everything after Emily died, wanting to take a time out from the world. So I went back home. I was upset she didn’t come to me; I would have helped her. Or even just held her if that’s what she needed. We didn’t have to go through with our plans.
But now it’s morning and I still haven’t heard from her and my worry has turned to panic. What the hell is going on? So I’m back at her Aunt’s house at six am. I just want to know she’s home and safe. She doesn’t even need to talk to me.
I ring the bell twice but no one answers. There’s a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach and every minute that passes I know something is really wrong. Her Aunt’s car is in the driveway, so I know she’s home. I wait a few minutes to give her time— maybe she needs to get dressed and get to the door. But no one comes. My heart beats so loudly with anticipation, I feel like it might come through the wall of my chest. I wait more, still no one comes. So I start banging. Pounding so hard the door begins to loosen from the hinges. Still no answer. So I start yelling. “Open up the door! Open up the goddamn door!” Two neighbors come out in robes before the door finally opens.
Aunt Claire’s face is swollen like she’s been crying and she steps aside and motions for me to come in.
“Where is Nikki?” I demand, heading down the hall to her room before she has time to respond. I swallow hard finding it empty. Something deep inside of me knew it would be.
“Where is she?” I scream. Aunt Claire’s shoulders jump from the anger in my voice and tears start flowing down her cheeks. I rake my hands through my hair, tugging harshly at the roots.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. But where is she? Is she okay?” Anger and panic twist a knot in my stomach, leaving me feeling like I might be sick. If anything has happened to Nikki I don’t know what I’ll do. Fuck, I love that girl. More than anything. Please God, let her be okay.
“Sit. Zack. I’ll put on some coffee. We need to talk.”
***
An hour later my mind is still racing. I’m not sure what emotions I feel. I’m….numb; in shock, undoubtedly. “Why didn’t you tell her yourself?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself the same question over and over for the last twenty-four hours. Why did I let it come from some woman she doesn’t know in a cold government office?” She buries her face in her hands. “When she moved in, I thought she was fragile, I wasn’t sure she could handle anything more. She was so close to her Mother, I didn’t want to spoil the memories she was trying to find a place for in her heart with secrets.”
“She isn’t fragile,” I tell her, defensiveness in my tone.
“I know that now. Once I got to know her…really know her…I realized that. She’s probably the strongest person I’ve ever met.”
“And why didn’t you tell her then?”
“Because by then she had found some happiness.” She pauses. “She found you, Zack. And I was afraid of what telling her would do to both of you. You’ve both been through so much.”
“Does Dr. Bennett know she was living here?” So many random questions whirl through my mind. I’m not sure why I ask, but I suddenly remember Nikki’s reaction to seeing him the first time in my yard. She recognized him, but wasn’t sure who he was.
“He does now. I went to talk to him at the hospital last night when Nikki didn’t come home. He’s upset. It’s complicated. He was Nikki’s mother’s doctor and she was very young. But he loved her. He wanted to be with her and his girls. But my sister’s disease made her irrational. She wouldn’t even let him help. When she stopped taking her medications, she really believed he was going to steal Nikki. He did the best he could with Nikki. It was all she would allow him to do.”
“Was he married to Mrs. Bennett when he and Nikki’s mother were together?”
“Yes.”
“Does Mrs. Bennett know Emily has a sister?”
“She does. She hated my sister. I’m glad she never got to meet Nikki, she would have filled her head with vile things about my sister,” she says remorsefully.
It’s just so much to take in at once. I need to clear my head, figure this all out. I stand to leave. “You’re sure she’s safe in Texas?”
She nods. “Her friend Ashley promised she’d keep in touch. She won’t tell me much, only that she’s upset. But at least I know she’s safe.”
“Are you going to call the police?”
“There’s not much they can do. She’s eighteen now.”
“When did she…” I remember I don’t need to ask her birthday. I already know. It’s the same as Emily’s.
I walk to the door, and turn back with one last question, even though I know she doesn’t have the answer. “Why didn’t she come to me?
***
Mom opens the front door before I can even turn the key.
“Zack, I’ve been trying to call you.”
“What’s wrong, Mom?” She has that worried face I’ve come to dread.
“Dr. Bennett is here.”
“Here?”
“Yes. He wants to speak to you.”
I walk into the kitchen and find Dr. Bennett waiting. He looks anxious. Seeing him makes me angry.
“What do you want?” I seethe.
“Zack!” Mom’s appalled.
“It’s okay, Jane. Zack’s upset and he has every right to be.”
Mom looks between me and Dr. Bennett. Neither of us offers anything more. She takes the hint. “I’ll leave the two of you alone to talk.” She turns to me. “I’ll be upstairs if you need anything.”
I nod.
“You’ve spoken to Claire, I see.”
“I shouldn’t have had to.”
“It’s complicated, Zack.”
“Why do adults think everything is so complicated? You took advantage of Nikki’s mother and kept Nikki in the dark about having a sister. A twin sister.”
“I’m not proud of what I did. But I loved Nikki’s mother.”
“Did Emily know?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you tell them?”
“It’s compli…” Dr. Bennett thinks better of his response when he sees my face.
“It wasn’t just the girls I needed to think about, Zack. Mrs. Bennett and Nikki’s mom had to be considered too.
“So you kept it a secret for your wife? I’m sure Mrs. Bennett was very concerned what other people would think.” My voice is laced with disdain. Not only for Dr. Bennett’s actions, but for Mrs. Bennett too. I never really cared for her much. All of the insecurities and materialism that weighed heavily on Emily were bred from her mother.
Dr. Bennett sighs. He’s smart. Knows there is no answer that will satisfy me.
“What did you come here for?” I ask impatiently.
“I need to ask you if you were in Emily’s room today?”
“What? No.” I pause. “I haven’t been in Emily’s room since before she…”
“Someone was in her room.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I came home to find her mirror broken.”
“Maybe it just fell over. That thing wasn’t even secured to the wall.”
“The patio door was wide open and a picture was ripped up next to the shards of glass.”
“What picture?”
“It was a picture of you and Emily. The one she kept on her mirror.”
I run through a visual slide show in my head. She had so many pictures, I can’t recall which was on the mirror. “Which picture was it?”
“You were on that 10th grade class trip up North to Angel’s Gate.
You were standing in front of the lighthouse.”
***
I’ve been running for hours.
I’m lost, even though I know exactly where I am.
Grey clouds hang low in the sky mimicking how I feel.
Exhausted by emotion, my eyes sting from tears that never seem to run low.
A thousand thoughts race through my mind as I run.
I try to chase them away.
But the faster I run the faster they come.
So I try harder.
Each footstep reaches the pavement faster than the last.
The burn in my calves travels up through my legs but I keep going.
Faster and faster.
Desperate to chase away my thoughts.
My hands begin to shake.
My body begins to shake.
Eventually my legs give out and I fall to the ground.
Everything changes from warp speed to slow motion.
My body crashes against the concrete.
The momentum from the speed of my fall opens the skin on my knees, my elbow, my arms, my chin.
The pain feels good.
It drains the energy from my mind and finally, at least for a moment, I stop thinking.
Chapter 40
Nikki—
Brookside, Texas
“I totally don’t get the fascination,” Ashley shrugs as we settle in fifty feet up on top of the Brookside water tower. “Plus this thing is so rusted, I feel like we might fall over any second.”
“Look around, isn’t it beautiful?” I ask as I point down to the barren, sun burnt field, the sun beginning to set off in the distance.
“Honestly? I find it kind of creepy up here.”
“Creepy? What could be creepy about it?”
“I don’t know. It just feels sort of…” She struggles to find the right word. “Lonely.”