Fuck. Tanya experienced such tragedy and was somehow able to keep going. Even after losing George too, she held on. Death was a prominent figure in her life; now I know why she went so willingly when it came for her.
Turning to look at Dani, I find her frozen.
She’s staring at her screen with her mouth agape and her hands plastered to her stomach. I rush over and remove the headphones, placing them back on their stand.
I grip the back of Dani’s neck and massage her nape. Slowly, her eyes lower into a long blink, then circle back to me.
“There’s no way Tanya wouldn’t have a relationship with her child and no way she wouldn’t have told me she had one in the first place. Where is the baby, Micah?” Her voice shakes with fear. She knows what’s coming. She knows it in her bones, and I don’t have the power to make it not true.
I take her hands in mine and lead her to the next screen, laying the headphones on for her, but I don’t move to the next screen. I stand behind Dani and rewatch Tanya’s unraveling, which is even more devastating on mute. When Tanya and George crumble to the ground, Dani’s legs wobble beneath her. I catch her and hold on, wishing I could’ve done the same for Tanya.
We stay together through the rest of the exhibition, serving as each other’s anchor. The rest of the videos are peaceful, with Tanya and George moving from Virginia to Maryland and eventually finding their smiles again. The videos end with Tanya and George celebrating their anniversary. I assume home movies died for Tanya when George did.
Tanya’s assistant waits for us by the exit of the gallery. Her brows are pulled inward and her muscles tighten at her eyes. She tilts her head to the right as she holds out a flash drive for me to take. We exchange no words once the flash drive is in my hands. She disappears into the crowd as if she were never there.
Remembering Tanya’s computer in her office and not wanting to wait any longer than necessary to see what this device holds, we rush back.
“I can’t believe Tanya was almost a mother,” I murmur as I connect the device to her computer.
“She was a mother,” Dani says. “Whether she had the opportunity to raise her daughter or not, she was a mother.”
She’s one hundred percent right.
Tanya’s face appears on the screen. The tendrils of illness showcase themselves in the heaviness of her eyelids and the dullness of her skin.
“Hello, my loves. Did you enjoy the exhibition? God, I haven’t recorded a video of myself in decades. Wasn’t George handsome? I thinkhe would’ve enjoyed his movies being on display for everyone. He always wanted to be a movie director, so I transformed our life into his art.”
She squeezes her eyes shut and for a moment I forget that this isn’t a live feed, and I can’t rush to her to make sure she’s okay.
Her eyes pop open and she continues. “Yes, I had a daughter. George and I never planned on kids, but the moment we found out about her, we were ecstatic. Her name was Lorraine.”
I had wondered if Dani noticed the plaque under Tanya’s video. If she realized that Tanya’s late child’s name was the same as her middle name. I’m not sure if the death grip she has on the armrest of her chair means she did or didn’t. I place my hand over hers, offering the only support I know how. She doesn’t connect her hand with mine, but she doesn’t move it either, and that’s something.
“And after we lost her, I told George I didn’t want to go through that ever again. When George passed, I regretted that choice. I regretted not trying again to have a piece of George that would outlive me. But then, I met you, Danielle Lorraine Jenkins. And I knew that was George telling me to let go of that pain. I know these tasks may seem silly, but I’m hoping they’ll help you let go of your pain before it’s too late.”
The abrupt end to the video makes Dani jump in her seat, ripping her hand from underneath mine. “Wait, wait. Go back,” Dani asks, eyes glued to the screen.
I grab the mouse and rewind until she tells me to stop. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
She leans forward from her chair until her face is practically smashed against the screen. “Right there. Don’t you see it? One of the pictures from her wall is missing.”
I lean past her, trying to see what she sees. In the video, Tanya is sitting at her desk in this very room. The pictures we took off the wall are lined up perfectly behind her.
“Oh, shit,” I say when realization hits me.
When we came in here, one of the rows on the wall had one less picture than the others. I think we both assumed she just didn’t have another to fill the space, but in this video, all the rows are even.
So, where’s the other photo?
We tear through the remnants of Tanya’s office, looking for anything we missed the first time around. A framed photo of Tanya on her bookshelf catches my eye. It’s fromTimemagazine article about her, but it stands out because it doesn’t match the aesthetic of the rest of her shelf. The other frames are gold and elegant. This one is wooden and looks worn. Tanya wouldn’t disrupt her design flow for no reason, so without hesitation I flip the frame over and open it.
Another photo falls from the frame. It lands right side up by my feet. Dani shuffles to stand across from me, but neither of us makes a move to grab the picture. I don’t recognize the woman we’re looking at, but it’s clear that Dani does. Her fingers fly up to her mouth as she takes it in.
“You know her?” I ask.
She looks up at me. “Yeah. That’s Daria Drayton. She’s a fashion designer I’ve collaborated with. I just didn’t know Tanya knew her.”
“Well, it looks like she’s the key to our next clue. Wanna do the honors?” I gesture to the photo, and she smiles before picking it up.
