“Interview?” I ask, and Tess gives me an apologetic sort of look in response as Henry clings to her like he’s three years old instead of six-going-on-seven. She’s his mother in a way she’ll never be mine—even if I wanted her to be, which I don’t. There’s a gap between us, an emotional chasm that I see she’s desperate to cross, even if she has to build a new bridge, plank by plank. Personally, I’d rather just cut my losses and fly back to New York.
“Well, honey, as you know, we’ve been asked to appear on multiple talk shows—”
“Which I told you I wasn’t interested in,” I respond, feeling panicky. I briefly recognize that Parrish has popped out a single earbud in order to listen in on the conversation. “You said I didn’t have to do any of them.”
The last thing I want is to talk about how it happened, how I found out that I was a ‘missing child’, a kidnapped child, a child who didn’t belong where she felt at home, and a child who doesn’t belong where she’s legally bound to stay.
My mind flashes back to that awful, awful night, the one that changed the entire course of my existence.
It was a Tuesday, and I remember that it was raining like fucking crazy. Sally and Nevaeh were over, and we were all sitting on the couch, peeling off wet soaks and complaining about the weather. Grandma Carmen made us popcorn on the woodstove, and then she and my grandfather disappeared upstairs into their room.
Nevaeh insisted—insisted—we binge watch this new show about unsolved crimes. I wanted to start a new K-drama, and Sally was insisting on a feel-good rom-com. Somehow, Nevaeh got her way (like she always does) and we ended up huddled together, sharing half of a joint that she stole from her brother’s dresser drawer and doing our best to blow smoke out the window.
When episode five came on, talking about Tess Vanguard and her best-selling true crime and thriller novels, I was excited. Before all of this shit happened, my biological mother was my favorite author. But then we started watching, and the pictures of little Mia Patterson began appearing on the screen.
That’s when I started to feel funny, like someone had just scrambled my insides with a whisk, like I was having the worst period cramps known to womankind. Then Grandma Carmen came down to get a glass of water, and I remember turning over my shoulder to ask her something. Whatever it was, I have no idea. The second I saw the look on her face, I knew something was terribly, terribly wrong.
“Can we pull over, please?” I ask, realizing that Tess has been talking to me for some time, and I have literally no idea what she’s saying.
“Pull over?” Paul echoes, exchanging a look with Tess.
“I might throw up,” I whisper, and Kimber makes a sound of disgust from across the limo. Apparently, she, too, has removed an earbud in order to eavesdrop. “I can’t breathe.”
“Alright, alright, stay calm,” Paul says, getting that don’t worry, I’m a doctor tone in his voice. You know the one, where a licensed physician is in the room and they just suddenly know everything there is to know about anything related to the human body, mind, or soul. “Take this.” He passes me an empty ice bucket—I’m guessing it’s used to hold champagne when the limo’s being used for something less depressing than a missing child family breakfast—and encourages me to lean over and put it between my knees. “Just keep your face near the bucket and try to breathe.”
Parrish says nothing, staring down at me like this whole scenario is more an annoyance than anything else. Then he goes back to texting on his phone, and I can’t help it, I throw up.
“Oh my god, gross!” Kimber shouts as I dry heave into the damn thing. I haven’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, so not much comes up, but it still doesn’t make for a great first impression on my new family. My shiny, beautiful new family with their mansion in one of the richest zip codes in the United States, their horrible sterile box of a house, and their limo filled with hateful people.
My eyes squeeze shut, and I struggle to pull my thoughts together.
“Grandma?” I asked, turning fully around and putting my elbows on the back of the sofa. “Are you okay?”
She stood there for several seconds, just staring at the screen, her eyes telling me she was seeing something that she’d give anything to unsee. Anything. Her soul, her heart. Just to make it go away.
“Go get your grandfather,” she told me, moving around the couch to grab the remote. Her hands shook so badly that it took her three tries to press pause. When she glanced back and realized I hadn’t moved, she snapped at me in a way I’ve never seen before. “Go, Dakota, now!”
