The silence between us isn’t empty. It’s sacred. Two people, both born from someone else’s pain, trying to make something gentler from it. It doesn’t last long, and I’m not able to attend to him the way I’ve imagined because his phone rings. We look at it vibrating on the table.
“Who’s calling you so late?” I ask after the second ring, and Efren sighs.
He stands and grabs it before a message pings, and he stills.
“It’s Ricky. They found something at Curtis’s House.”
_______
Efren drives manically through the streets. The digital clock on my dash blinks 5:55 a.m. A blessing or a curse? The car accelerates and the roads turn dark as we leave the highway and take the turn to Curtis Anderson’s house. There’s a heavy feeling in my chest, an intuitive knowing that I may finally find what I’ve been looking for. Then my toxic mind floods with fear.
What if this is all just another dead end? What if the truth about Missy—the real truth—would mean facing something I’m not ready to? Leaning back into the seat, I stare out the window at the moon. Missy always said we were daughters of the moon. I’ve held onto the idea, even tattooed it on my back.Hija de la luna.
There are no explanations for the sky’s existence, andmaybe there’s none for mine. I just am. Why can’t I just accept that?
“Missy, please. Give me something,” I whisper soft enough only I can hear.
I rest my head on the window and close my eyes. When I feel the engine stop, I open my eyes to the familiar large gate opening. Efren drives down the dark road until we see Ricky waiting outside of Curtis’s house. Efren’s out of the car before me, moving quickly to open my door and undo my seat belt.
“What did you find?” I ask hesitantly.
Ricky’s hoodie, face, and hands are covered in dirt. In one of them, he holds a letter.
“There’s an old entrance on the side of the property.” He nods his head to the side, and I follow his line of vision. “Lurch stumbled upon an underground studio apartment. Looks like Missy might have lived there. I found this in a dresser.”
He hands me the letter. My fingers tremble as I unfold it. The handwriting is sharp, slanted, familiar in a way that makes my stomach twist.
Dear Curtis,
I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to speak with you again. You lied to me. You all lied to me and made me believe my child died.
I stop reading. The words swim, blurring.
“What is this?” I whisper.
“It was in a box Curtis had hidden. There’s more,” Ricky says. “A whole box of letters. And pictures. Curtis kept them all.”
My hand tightens around the letter, the paper tremblingin my fingers. The words all make sense, and I try to block the truth out.Not this.Efren reaches for me, but I step back.
“She couldn’t have,” I cry.
Efren takes the letter, scanning it, his eyes hardening.
But I found her, Curtis. The same night that the doctor told me to check myself into a psych ward, I almost did. But then I was walking past the nursery. I heard a baby crying. She was crying out for me.”
“No,” I whisper, pleading for anyone. God, Missy, anyone to take the words burning through me away.
As soon as I picked her up, she stopped. I felt her pull on my soul the way only a mother would know. So I named her Alma.
The words hit like a slap. My breath catches. My pulse roars in my ears.
Ricky says something about bracelets, but I can’t hear him. All I hear is the faint crying of a baby. All I feel is the split ache in my chest, brokenness inside me as I mourn for two mothers.
Chapter 30
Efren
Iknock on Alma’s door gently, even though I know she won’t answer. She hasn’t left her bed in two days. Not since she found out she’d been kidnapped at birth.
