“Yeah, the photo? Hardly did him justice. Finn would have a conniption if he saw what they did to his hair.”
“So you’re saying he doesn’t actually have a perm?” Not everyone takes the humor route when it comes to loss, but I’ve always found an odd comfort in it. Better to laugh than break into pieces.
Nora folds her arms over her chest. Her long, dark red nails curl around her biceps. Her gaze is far away as she says, “Everybody talks about that twin connection thing. Like, if one of us stubs ourtoe, the other feels it. But it’s bullshit. I didn’t feel anything when he went missing. When he died.” His face on the wall is a contradiction to her statement, but the rational part of me knows she’s right.
I want to tell her I know what it is to carry the weight of the person you lost everywhere you go. I think Nora knows. Recognizes the broken thing in me that’s in her.
But the bravery slips through my fingers too quickly to grasp. I go for the easier route.
“All those kids…They really haven’t found any of them?”
Nora shrugs. I can’t decide if the casual demeanor is an act or an inevitability. A way to stay separate from all the loss. To live around it.
“After all these years, most of the cases are cold. Written off as runaways. There are rumors that a few have been seen in other towns, even other states.” She shrugs again. “Detective Gonzales stops in every few months to tell me they still have no idea where my brother is,” Nora continues. “Probably because I bug the hell out of him if he doesn’t.”
I press my lips together for a beat. “You said he was the only one left who’d bother.”
Nora’s nose scrunches and she nods.
“Not all of those kids made headlines. Some of them were just…written off from the start. The ones who didn’t live in the nice neighborhoods, who didn’t have white skin, who had troubled pasts.” Nora swallows. “The second those cops saw Finn’s file, it was over. Didn’t matter that his records were sealed. He had them, and that was enough. Everyone but Gonzales had him pegged as a runaway.”
“So, what, they didn’t look for him?”
She lets out a humorless laugh. “I mean, I guess you could callit looking. But the year before him, the daughter of some city council member disappeared and they still pass around posters with her face on it. Her parents make a fuss every few months, trying to get the police to chase down a lead that goes nowhere.”
“I’m guessing the others don’t get floats at the parade,” I say, and I’m angry as I do. I recall the moment of silence, the grief emanating off the parents of the lost kids. A minute of recognition is nowhere near enough.
“Things were harder for Finn than for me. My dad was always an ass, but as we got older…” Nora shakes her head. “He called the cops on his own kid because he stood between him and his next beer. Finn was trying to survive, like everybody else. And he didn’t run away. He wouldn’t have left.” She licks her lips. Drops her eyes. “Not without taking me with him.”
The ever-present stone between my ribs expands, pressing on my organs and stretching against my skin. I don’t realize I’ve reached for Nora until my hand settles on hers atop the counter. I curl my fingers around hers and squeeze once before pulling my hand back.
She looks up at me, tears glittering, and gives me a knowing smile. It makes tears spring to my own eyes, and for once, I don’t push them back. One slips down my cheek and off my chin.
For a few long minutes, neither of us says anything. We sit, letting the seconds tick by around us.
Eventually, I gather the courage to speak again.
“I’m sorry about the other day. I was…”
“Don’t worry about it. If anyone gets it, I do,” she says, though her tone suggests differently. A trace of hurt. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. I’ve been an asshole.”
Nora lifts her eyes to mine. A smile ghosts her lips.
“You said it, not me.”
Honesty is like peeling off layers of skin, one by one, letting the blood drip and pool on the ground at my feet. It goes against every guard I’ve thrown up.
“I haven’t…It’s been a while since I let myself think about what happened, let alone talk about it. It’s easier to…” I gesture at nothing.
“Batten down the hatches?”
“Yeah.”
Nora nibbles on her bottom lip.
“When Finn—” She stops. Takes a small breath. “With him gone, it was like he took all the color with him. The world was gray. I was pretty sure it would stay that way forever.”
