I look up slowly to find his eyes on me. “We were supposed to do this together.” The vulnerability in my voice swells to fill the space between us, the cabin itself.
We were supposed to be a united front. We were supposed to come to bed after a particularly bad day and find solace in each other—to remember that even on the worst days, at least we had each other. And now…we just don’t.
“We are doing it together,” he says, his hand reaching for mine. Slowly, ever so slowly, our fingers intertwine, and the smile he offers breaks my heart. “Even if we aren’t together, I’m still on your team.”
“Not in her eyes.” Gently, I release his fingers. “I just want her home. She doesn’t know anyone here. Where could she possibly be?” Tears sting my eyes as I stare at him, begging him for an answer. Any answer.
“I’m sure she’s just driving around. Being a kid.”
“How can you be okay right now?”
His face wrinkles, and he looks away, almost smug. But then I realize I’ve misread him. I hear it in his voice. “You think I’m okay? Corinne, I haven’t been okay for months. You think I can live in that house—the house that still smells like you and is dripping with memories of the past twenty-five years—and be okay? But I am, because that’s what you want. You needed that house to still be there, for Taylor, and so I have to live in a tomb.”
I can’t tell if he’s angry or hurt, and that scares me. I used to be able to read him so well. “I never thought…”
“I don’t think any of us are okay,” he says when I don’t finish my lingering sentence. “So, if she needs a little space, I say we give it to her.”
“We’re her parents. We’re supposed to keep her safe.” There is a part of me—a sane, rational part—that hears what he’s saying. I know Taylor is almost an adult. I know she’s going through a lot. But there’s this other part that says she is in a new place where she doesn’t know anyone, with a terrible storm rolling in, and that she left without warning.
Everything in me is screaming, warning me that something about this isn’t right. That I need to get her home so I can better understand what happened today to make her leave.
I move past Lewis on my way to Taylor’s bedroom and swing open the door. There on the bed is her new laptop. I open it andtype in her password. The same as her old one. That’s one of the rules we have—she has access to whatever technology she wants, with the understanding that I will know her passwords and be able to look through her devices anytime I need to.
Parenting in the tech age is not for the faint of heart.
When she was younger, I looked more often. Searched through her things to keep out all the bad. The danger. I was a dragon, guarding the tower I kept her safely inside. But lately, with all the distractions, I’ve failed. I don’t remember the last time I checked on her social media and apps.
What if she’s met someone? A predator? What if he convinced her to run away? What if she’s meeting him?
I’m leaping to conclusions, I understand, but this is just so unlike the daughter I know. She might have been more difficult than usual lately, but I thought it was because of the divorce. I just accepted that was why.
What if…
What if I was wrong?
I wish more than anything that I could call Mom right now, ask her advice, but I know it wouldn’t help. If she even answered the call, the chances of her offering anything helpful right now is slim.
I open Taylor’s social media accounts, searching through her recent messages. There aren’t many. She’s required to keep her accounts private, which means the few messages she has are from people I know. My heart slows slightly.
Maybe I’m overreacting after all.
I open her iMessages, scrolling through her texts there. Lots of complaints to her friends about me. My face burns as I hurry through them, wishing Lewis wasn’t standing behind me, reading confirmation that he made the right choice in leaving. If this is what my own daughter thinks of me—what must he?
“What are you looking for?” he asks, touching my back.
“Anyone she might’ve talked to.” I turn around to face him. “Did she mention anything weird today? A new boy, maybe? Or…was she acting differently?”
“She was…quiet, maybe. But not really acting weird.”
I shuffle the questions around in my mind, trying to decide what to ask. She left with him, and things were fine. And now she’s gone. She came home and didn’t say a word. What happened while they were out? Something must have.
“Did the two of you argue? Did she complain about me?”
He hesitates, but eventually says, “She asked about coming home, but we both know it’s only because I brought it up.” My stomach crashes like ocean waves somewhere deep inside my core. “I shut it down quickly. She was just…complaining to complain.”
And she’ll have even more reason to complain if I become the bad guy in this situation. I’m walking a fine line, trying to keep her safe and not make her hate me. I don’t know what the right move is.
My eyes light up. “Would she have driven home? To…your house?”
