Before everything broke, Scarlett was the sister-figure I never had, the aunt Sadie deserved and never had because I’m an only child and so is Gabriel.
Someday, I might forgive her for this betrayal. But not now. Not when Sadie’s room lies violated and my trust is shattered like the glass shards on her bedroom floor.
I take the broom from Gabriel. “I’ll finish up.”
Without another word, they step aside to let me, with Scarlett hesitating for just a second in the doorway before walking out of the room. They know I’m not playing. They can see the angerin my eyes or feel it emanating from my skin like a heatwave, a warning.
They’re pretending they care about preserving my daughter’s room. But they can never get it back to the way it was.
I start clearing up the glass, sweeping it into a pile and then into the dustpan. Each scrape of glass against wood sends a jolt through me.
Then I pick up the blue dolphin. Sadie’s dolphin. I returned it to her room last night, and it must have fallen from the windowsill when the glass shattered. A thin cut now runs along its fin, revealing the white stuffing inside. I don’t remember it being there before.
I sit down on the bed with the dolphin clutched in my hands, hot tears pressing behind my eyes. I blink them back. I’m not going to be weak this time.
The last thing I need is for them to think I’m fragile, that they have to protect me…again.
Only when my fingers start to ache do I realize I’ve been gripping the dolphin so tightly it now feels like a rope. I’ve been twisting it between my hands and now my knuckles are pale and my wrists are throbbing.
I swallow hard. My throat feels raw, like it’s scraped by a dozen razor blades.
When I’m done, I accept Gabriel’s offer to board up the window temporarily while I call Alice, who immediately gives me the number of a good local handyman. I don’t tell her the truth of what happened, just that some kids on the beach threw a rock.
When I call the handyman, my voice sounds too calm when I speak, as if it belongs to someone else.
“No problem, Mrs. Ellis. I’ll come first thing in the morning.” Even though I’m married, I’m one of the few people in my socialcircle who choose to keep their maiden name, which holds a special place in my heart.
Every time I hear Ellis, I remember my mother. It’s like a souvenir she left behind for me. Gabriel understood. When Sadie was born, though, we agreed that she would be a Sutton, like her father.
Looking around me at Sadie’s things, I’m relieved we’re not somewhere cold, where her room would freeze overnight. Relieved that nothing else can harm it while I’m not looking.
I spend many hours inside the room, lying on Sadie’s bed, holding the dolphin, while the sun shifts across the wall, inch by inch. But I’m not lying there helpless.
I have a notebook and a pen, and I write down everything I know so far.
I start with my theory about what I think happened to Sadie. Then I move on to the photo I received and the notes on it. Including the one about Gabriel. Then I write about the second photo Gabriel told me about.
Though I know Gabriel and Scarlett are responsible for the broken window, I still write it down. Facts are facts, even when they hurt. I just need everything on paper right now, so I can start piecing it all together.
Left with nothing else to jot down, I place the notebook beside me and stare into space, thinking of Sadie. Her smile, her eyes, her laugh. As if somehow I might reach her, as if she might reach back to tell me where she’s being kept. As if distance and time might mean nothing to us.
Of course, nothing comes. I don’t feel her presence, not even while in her room.
Lunchtime comes and goes, but I refuse to eat with them. I refuse to eat at all, only drinking my coffee in our room. Not because I can’t sit with them at the same table, but because myappetite is gone. The smell of food alone makes my stomach turn.
After they finish eating, Gabriel goes to the library and Scarlett disappears to her room with Coco.
When the apartment settles into an uneasy quiet, I finally go to the kitchen for another cup of coffee.
But when I enter, I halt in the doorway, staring at the bouquet of peach roses on the table. They are gorgeous, the petals plump and vivid. Sadie would have absolutely adored them. And I absolutely hate them.
One of them must have gone out and bought the flowers, even though I said there would be no memorial and no petals on the water. I’m angry at being betrayed again, but I’m too tired to argue with them or let them try to convince me my daughter is dead.
Instead, I get up, take the bouquet, open a drawer, and grab the kitchen scissors. I pull the bin out from under the sink and stand over it, cutting the flowers apart one by one. I let them drop into the trash instead of leaving them in water to thrive. I keep going until the petals are bruised and the stems snap.
I’m staying here until I have answers. Until then, no petals will be scattered into the sea in my daughter’s name.
When I turn around, Scarlett is standing there, guilt written all over her face.
