“My room looks out at the lake,” I offer, my own watery smile no more real than my grandmother’s. But we each pretend, because that’s all we can do at this point, play the roles that were assigned to us. “I'll send Maxine some pics and she can forward them to you.”
We both pause, Tess’ rule of zero contact for a year hanging heavy around both of our hearts.
“She won't find out about this,” I explain hastily, glancing over at Maxine. She isn’t bothering to hide her tears. Her face, despite being wet with salt, is much more real than mine or my grandmother’s. That’s one of the things I’ve always liked about her, one of the same things that always gets her into trouble: my sister doesn't hide her emotions, not for any reason. There are positives and negatives to that, to be sure. “Tess, I mean. We’re calling from Maxine’s phone, and I snuck out of the house …”
“Dakota Banks,” my grandmother breathes, aghast at the very idea. I’d have never done anything like this back home. There wouldn't have been any reason to. At the very least, even if I’m being scolded, I'm being called by my own name. “Tess is a woman with a lot of trauma in her background. Imagine if she finds you missing? What will her reaction be?” Guilt sweeps over me like a tidal wave, drowning me in cold and foam and salt. I know what her reaction will be because I’ve already seen it. “Honey,” she starts, and I get the idea that she’s shoring herself up to say something she’d rather not. “You know that your grandfather and I miss you more than anything. That we’d do anything to get you back.”
“I know that,” I whisper, dropping my head slightly. I stare at the rough surface of the wooden table beside my coffee cup. They really would do anything. I know because I saw them try, saw them fight against an impossible storm. Tess’ money, those awful DNA tests, the publicity, the threats to Saffron … Trafficking a kidnapped child across state lines comes with hefty prison sentences. Instead, she was offered a guilty-time-served verdict for the time she spent in jail during the negotiations. I want to believe that Tess did that because she was trying not to hurt me, but really, I think it was just a bargaining chip to use against my grandparents.
“I wish your grandfather was here to see you,” she tells me with a slight frown. “But he’s having surgery on his leg today. Did you tell her about that, Maxine? How the old fool broke his ankle trying to move a bunch of dirt?” She huffs out an exasperated sound, but it does nothing to hide the anguish lurking just beneath the surface. We’re both fairly shitty actors, it seems. Must run in the family.
As soon as that thought hits me, I feel my fake smile begin to crack at the edges.
“What time will he be out of surgery?” Maxine asks, and my grandmother answers, as if this is a normal conversation between family members, as if nothing at all is going on. Maybe … maybe we can just pretend that I’m away at college like Maxine? “Make sure to call me as soon as you hear anything, and I’ll pass the news on to Dakota.”
My grandmother hesitates for a minute, glancing off to one side. She's only fifty-nine—Grandma had Saffron at twenty-one, and Saffron had Maxine at nineteen—but her face looks so old and tired right now, in a way that it didn't before. Heavy, that’s what it looks like. Like her emotions are too heavy to wear on her face.
“I don't want to advocate you sneaking out of the house, but … if you get any opportunities like this again—to call us, I mean—without Tess knowing, then … Well, I'm just saying that I won’t hesitate to answer.”
I choke on whatever it is that I was about to say, knowing that I can’t stay here long, that I have to get back before Tess notices that I’m missing. If I don’t, then I'll ruin any chance I might have for sneaking out in the future.
“Miss you and love you fierce,” is all that I manage to get out.
“Miss you and love you fierce,” my grandmother replies, kissing the screen with her bright red lipstick, the color she always wears, that makes me think of home. The call ends, and Maxine very carefully sets her phone on the table.
“Do you think you could give me a ride home?” I blurt out, because I want to be alone to … I don't know, feel? Why does it seem so much harder to just feel things in front of other people? “The ride that got me here, well, he’s long-gone.” The words come out dry and caustic, and Maxine frowns. Before she can answer, however, X speaks up.
