I nodded and made all the right noises as Sid continued to sift through the pictures.
Viv and Helena continued their negotiations for how the podcast would be handled. Then, mid-sentence, Helena turned to Sid and barked, “Did you take your medicine?”
Sid blanched, then nodded. “Yes, yes, of course.” He frowned.
Helena frowned back and sighed, shifting to move toward the kitchen.
Sid stood with a groan. “I’ll get it. You two just get the details worked out so we can move forward.”
I sat and stared silently at the pile of photos on the table. My heart pounded and my mouth was dry. I had to look at it again. I had to be sure.
Instead of reaching directly for that picture, though, I feigned interest in the entire pile, going back over the ones Sid had already shown me, pretending to take mental notes. I felt like I was reaching into a snake den. I pretended to study one picture of a backyard party, two other houses visible in the background behind the Perez’s alley, but already the birthday party picture was visible from the corner of my eye. My mind approached it like I was approaching the door to an abyss, irresistibly drawn even though I knew it was the door to my own destruction.
I looked up and nodded at whatever Viv and Helena were discussing, then flipped back through the pictures. I picked up that one as if it were any other inanimate object, marveling at my body’s ability to function. A question, I thought. I need to ask a question but not that question.
“Is this a birthday?” I asked, lifting the picture and turning it around to Helena as if it weren’t a grenade in my hand.
Helena leaned forward and peered at the picture. “Didn’t Dad just tell you that was her ninth birthday?”
I blinked. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”
Crud. How was I going to ask questions now?
But Helena leaned over and frowned. “I know, she’s too old for that unicorn. Dad bought it for her. I said it was too young for her and she wouldn’t like it, but she loved everything unicorns. When she ran with it, it played this little tinkly sound.” She shook her head as if remembering. “Like, bells tinkling, you know? And not just when she ran with it, actually. That silly thing would go off at all hours of the day or night. Freaked me out a couple of times, going off in the middle of the night.”
I smiled again. Good job, something inside myself said. She can’t tell. “And who are all these people? Your cousins, or…”
“Let’s see. He’s my cousin Ramon.” She pointed to the man on the sofa. “That’s his wife Cynthia. That’s a guy I was dating at the time.” She tapped the face. “Shawn. The creep. And of course, that’s Dad in the recliner behind her.”
In the photo, Sid sat forward on the edge of his recliner, the same recliner he spent his days in now. Gia posed for the camera, straddling the unicorn’s stick, holding the reins with one hand and the other lifted in triumph. Her weight was cocked on one hip, jaunty. Her father behind her grinned, delighted at the girl, at the gift, at the joy of the occasion.
Before, I thought. This was his before face. Seven years had passed, but Sid looked twenty years older than that man in the recliner.
I was drawn back to Shawn’s face. He leaned against the door jamb, fingers curled around a beer bottle, his other hand tucked into his jeans pocket. He looked at Gia, a smirk on his face.
Would anyone else be chilled by that smirk? Would they even see it as a smirk and not a genuine smile? If they didn’t know him, if they didn’t know what he was capable of, if they hadn’t seen that same face as it smiled and promised that this was okay, that nobody would know, he wouldn’t tell her mom, she wouldn’t get in trouble—if they hadn’t also seen him in that moment, would they be chilled by his face in this moment? If they hadn’t seen that same smiling mouth as it charmed her, manipulated her as if they were deciding to do this naughty thing together…would that smile fill them with the same dread and fear for that unsuspecting little girl who was, in fact, not too old for a unicorn that made tinkling sounds? Who was unbearably young, after all?
I honestly didn’t know. It was a thing I could not unsee, so…I didn’t know.
“And do they all live here in town?” I motioned to the picture as if I was interested in all of them. “Can we talk to them?”
“Ramon and Cynthia live here. I don’t know about Shawn, of course. We broke up not too long after that picture was taken.” She frowned at me. “This was years before she ran away, though—even the first time she ran away.”
I nodded. “Of course. I’m just trying to get an idea of all the people in her life.” I slid the picture back into the stack. There was no graceful way to ask why she and Shawn had broken up, or if it had anything to do with Gia. If she knew that Shawn was a pedophile, that would have been a part of this conversation, maybe. I would have to think of a way to get the information without—
“Why did you two break up?” Viv asked.
Well, alrighty then.
“He was a thief,” Helena said. “He stole a bunch of stuff from my uncle. Just….” She shook her head. “So obvious about it, too.”
“What did he steal?” I asked.
“Some tools. Expensive tools. Took them right out of my uncle’s truck while we were all having a barbecue over here.”
“That was dumb,” Viv said.
Helena huffed in agreement. “Idiotic. He was lucky he got out of here with all his extremities intact.” She scowled, then turned away with a flat-lipped look. “But like I said, this was way before Gia ran away.”
“Of course,” I said. “We need to focus more on the people who were in her life at the time she ran away.”
“A list of her friends,” Viv said. “Where did she go to school? Did she have a job? What kind of hobbies or interests did she have?”
Viv and Helena kept talking and I nodded along as if I were considering every word. In the pit of my stomach, a rock was forming, growing bigger and heavier until it felt like it was pressing up against my lungs and I couldn’t get enough air. I told myself to take deeper breaths, but I couldn’t make it work—my body was working independently from my mind.
I have to get out of here, I thought. And immediately stood up.
Viv broke off whatever she was saying and looked at me, brows drawn.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Helena. “Can I use your bathroom?”
“Sure.” She pointed around the wide dining room doorway and into the hall. “The door on the left, in the middle of the hallway. The door sticks, so don’t close it all the way or we’ll have to get a crowbar to get you out.”
I nodded and made a beeline for the bathroom. I very carefully pushed the door to the point that I felt it begin to wedge into the jamb, and then stopped. There. My brain was functioning. I was focused—hyper-focused—on the next thing I needed to do.
I leaned against the wall. What now?
I had to keep it together until I could get home. I had to. How? How could I possibly?
Luckily, I knew that Viv had a phobia about barf. If I made her think I might have a stomach bug or food poisoning or something, she’d be more than happy to kick me out of there.
I took two deepish breaths, the best I could managed, then flushed a commode that didn’t need flushing, washed my hands, took two more deep breaths, and tugged the door open.
Back in the dining room, someone else had come in—a handsome man around Helena’s age.
“This is Mateo,” Helena said.
“Helena’s boyfriend,” Viv clarified.
I nodded but cut right to the chase—I didn’t have it in me to make small talk with another stranger. “Pleasure to meet you, and I’m sorry to be rude, but I think I need to go home. I’m feeling a bit nauseous.”
Viv shot up. “Oh no.”
“Do you feel okay?” I asked her and put a hand on my belly with a frown.
Viv put her hands to her face. “Oh no, no, no. I don’t know.”
“I’m sorry?” Mateo said, looking confusedly from me to Viv and back again.
“Did you come into my house feeling sick? Or did it just start?” Helena asked. She darted a glance in the direction of the bathroom, and I could see her wondering if I’d left nasty stomach bug germs in my wake.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I said. “I didn’t puke or anything, I just feel a little iffy and thought it might be a good idea to—”
“I have to go.” Viv snatched up her purse.
“I came in my own car,” I reminded her.
“Good, hope you feel better soon,” she called over her shoulder. “Helena, I’ll call you tomorrow!” She was peeling out before I even made it off the front porch. She was going to outrun stomach bug germs.
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