“Claire.” I leaned my hip into the corner of the island. She stared up at me, big brown eyes wet and glossy. “What?” Her voice was a defeated whisper.
“How ’bout some water? Coffee? Tea?”
She shook her head, but I prowled over to the cabinets and found a glass, filling it at the tap and setting it in front of her. Hip back against the counter, I said, “My mom…she was from around here…anyway, she walked out when I was four. Said she was visiting her grandma and never came back. My dad’s not been right since she vanished. As far back as I can remember, he’s been fucked up. I was so little when she left, I’ve never known him any other way. But I have to think at one point he was fun, loving. Mostly, he was lonely, sad, and distant when I was growing up. I know what loss looks like. What I’m saying…I know pain. I can be there for you.”
“I’m sorry for you, Aiken. I truly am.” She rubbed her forehead. “That must’ve been hard, growing up like that. But this is a pain you can’t possibly recognize. Seriously, let me wallow in my own shit.”
I moved closer, took her hand from her brow, and ran the backs of my knuckles over her cheek. “Want to try me?”
She shook her head again. “I want my girl back.My Abby. She was a good girl. Well-behaved, A-student, cute as a button,even with her dad’s face.” She sighed, and I watched the breath rise and fall in her chest.
Time stilled, the back of my palm remained on her wet cheek, her eyes remained focused on the tiles in front of her, the microwave blinked the time.
“Went to the cemetery today. Weeded, planted some flowers—lilac impatiens for the summer—and then sat there like a dumb fucking lump on a log. Pardon the French…Abby would’ve liked the purple. She wanted purple everything when she was little. Purple tutus, purple crystal headbands, bright violet nails and toenails when she got older. There was a time I hated purple. Couldn’t stand to look at anything else purple.”
Her skin was fair, light brown freckles smattered over her breast bone. I could make out her ribs under the skin of her slender chest, and I wanted to hold her tight to me—crush her, encapsulate her, make her feel better somehow.
Her chest took a long inhale, and I watched the breath whoosh out of her at the memory.
“We go there sometimes. Laurie—she lost her daughter the same night. She’s different than me, life of privilege, big farmhouse, doting husband, other kids, but we bonded after that awful night. The other two girls who went with them, they survived…their families moved…needed to get away. They don’t really stay in touch. Abby’s dad doesn’t go see her. He made a new life way before she was gone, so I guess it’s not a biggie or whatever. He didn’t always care before. Why should he care now? She was my everything. Even though it doesn’t seem that way…” Her words faded out at the end, her chest heavy with breath.
There was something heavy between us. Real, tangible, although I had no idea where the pull came from. It was a tug like I’d never felt before. A tethering.
She turned to face me. “I’m rambling for days. I do that. It’s nerves. I should know, this is what I do for a living, scrutinize people. I should examine myself. Or shut the hell up.”
If I could solve this for her, make it better, I would. But that wasn’t Claire. She wasn’t a woman you solved anything for—
“You’re not rambling. You’re getting it all out. And you’re right, I don’t know the kind of loss you suffered. I can’t possibly. But at some point, you have to keep the good memories alive. Let the pain go. I didn’t know Abby. Shit, I can’t even pretend to understand her inner and outer beauty, because that would take something away from your memory. But if I guessed, she must’ve been vibrant and alive and wouldn’t want you to act anything but alive.”
“You don’t get it. That night is burned in my memory. Sometimes I’m so consumed by it, it’s as if it’s happening all over again. I can’t even understand why I’m telling you all of this. As if it will make it any better. This is why I stick to myself, depend on nobody.”
“We all have demons surface, Claire. It’s what we do when they pop up, how we forge ahead, not letting them pull us down. Depending on nobody, like you say, sucks.”
“Again, I’m not sure you understand. I’d just taken a luxurious bath, felt like myself—a sensual woman—for the first time in a long while. I’d dozed off while reading one of my romance novels when the phone rang. Laurie told me to turn on the TV, screeching something about there not being an accident but an explosion.” Her fingers clenched on the counter, her eyes narrow slits at the memory.
I sat quietly, knowing she wasn’t finished.
“I can hear her saying, ‘Claire, are you looking?’ like it happened tonight. My name hung in her throat. Her words stung my ear. If I’m honest, that’s what I’m feeling now while telling you this. The burn, the raw feeling in my throat…it’s as if it’s happening all over again.”
My head felt as heavy as my heart as I listened to her.
“Claire—stop saying I don’t get it or I don’t understand. You’re right, it didn’t happen to me. How can I get it? I’m saying you deserve some happiness, a night off from all the demons.” I tried to stop her, even though I’d asked for this.
She waved me off, her eyes focused on a far-off place.
“My fingers shook as I turned on the TV, and fire blazed across the screen. I always watched channel five, so all I had to do was hit the power button, and the explosion was right there in front of me. There was the arena, the very same one I’d dropped the girls off at, except it hadn’t been on fire then. It was burning up, while a newscaster tried to get close, mumbling some bullshit about ‘determining the severity of the situation.’I’d wanted to yell at the TV, but Laurie was yelling into my ear. ‘Claire! Claire! Are you there?’ She wouldn’t shut up so I could hear the TV.”
She stopped to take a breath, a sip of water, and I wound my fingers through hers.
“I kept asking Laurie, ‘Do you have the girls?’ I knew it was wishful thinking, but I had to ask. She didn’t. She kept screaming until finally she saw Shelby and breathed hope into me. Hope that Abby was somewhere there too. Maybe her phone had died, or she got swept up in a crowd running toward another exit.”
I squeezed her hand, trying to get her out of this horrible trance. She gave me a quick look and continued.
“Before I knew it, I was shrugging on jeans and throwing on a bra. I didn’t even stop to let Smitty out…just ran out the door and jumped into my dependable car, saying a mental fuck-you to the seat belt. I’d had the damn SUV since the divorce. It was the only constant in my life other than Abby and Smit. It was a big deal that that Goddamn rapper even came here. It had been in the news for weeks. Our brand-spanking-new basketball arena was sure to draw in many more big-time names. And you see, when I drove over there, I only prayed to every God I knew that the place didn’t swallow up my baby girl. That’s what torments me.”
“Christ, Claire, I can see how you would be tortured, but it’s been a few years. You have to let some of the pain go. You can’t live your life chasing ghosts.”
She turned to me, fire in her eyes. “Is that what you’re doing? Coming to the town where your mom is from? Chasing ghosts?”
