Leo is shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“I don’t know where she went,” he wails. “I don’t know where she is!”
“Have you tried calling her?”
“Her phone is off.”
I so want to say something reassuring, tell him that Veronica’s surely just running an errand and will be back soon. But I watched her toss those bags in the car, saw the look on her face.
“Your father,” I say instead. “Have you talked to him? Maybe he knows.”
Leo looks to the side, in through my kitchen window. Presumably he’s already seen my sister in there and realizes that she can hear what we’re saying, but he’s too upset to let that stop him.
“There’s no point. He’s not home. They had a huge fight last night. I heard something about the cabin. It sounded like my dad was planning to spend the weekend up there. My mom got angry and screamed at him. I couldn’t hear what she said. I was covering my ears. And now… I guess he already went?”
Something pops into my mind: that conversation between Philip and the redhead at the restaurant.
…each drive separately… you wait for me… and meet there so she won’t…
…so close now… really looking forward to it. The cabin… so wonderful.
The blood drains out of my face. Maybe Leo can tell that something has occurred to me, because he takes an anxious step closer.
“My mom isn’t doing very well. I know that. But you don’t think she’s planning to…”
When I don’t respond right away, he takes yet another step closer and tugs on my arm.
“No! Tell me she’s not planning to…!”
With great effort, I pull myself together.
“No, Leo,” I say as calmly as I can. “Your mom’s not planning to kill herself. She wouldn’t have needed to pack anything if she was, right? I saw her leave, and she had luggage with her.”
As if she were planning to disappear, I suddenly thought, do what she had to do and then get away, leave everything behind.
Leo becomes agitated and wants to know exactly what I saw and how his mom seemed, but I no longer hear what he’s saying.
Suddenly I realize what I need to do, what’s needed from me. Deep down inside I am simultaneously burning hot and freezing cold.
“Your summer place,” I hear myself say. “Where is it?”
Leo stops short and looks at me blankly.
“Do you want me to help you? If so, then you need to trust me. I need the address of your cabin. Right now.”
Leo pulls his phone out of his pocket and maps the directions. I tell him to send me the link and turn around and yell to my sister. It turns out she’s already standing right behind me. She looks both bewildered and annoyed.
“What is this all about, Elena? What’s going on?”
“How did you get over here? Did you drive or take the bus?”
My sister says she drove. Her car is parked just around the corner.
“Can I borrow your keys?”
“I don’t understand. What are you going to do?”
I pull on my vest and then hold my hand out to her urgently.
“Please? I’ll explain later. Trust me for now.”
Yet another person I’m asking to place their trust in me even though I don’t deserve it. I try not to think about all the things I owe people and my shortfalls, try to focus on the fact that I’m doing the right thing. For once. Finally.
The look on my sister’s face changes. Without further ado, she reaches for her purse, takes out her car key, and presses the key and my phone into my hand. I stuff the phone into my vest pocket and wrap my fingers around the key and squeeze.
“Thank you.”
Our eyes meet. So much left to do. It feels hot behind my eyes.
“Will you wait here?” I ask. “Until I get back?”
My sister gives me one of her wry smiles and says she has no intention of leaving until I’ve brought her car back. Then she grows serious again and quickly strokes my cheek.
“Be careful,” she mumbles. “I only have one sister.”
I start to head toward my sister’s car, but Leo moves to stand in my way.
“I’m coming with you,” he says.
I look into his worried eyes and think about the violent conclusion to the story I just wrote. I picture Veronica rushing into the summer cabin, crazed with her desire for revenge, and how the world becomes streaked red with blood. Scenes that no child should have to witness.
“It’s better that you stay here,” I say as calmly as I can.
“But I—”
“In case she comes back. You never know.”
Leo stares at me. I hold my breath and try to look like I believe what I just said might actually be plausible.
“OK,” he finally agrees.
“I’ll be in touch,” I say. “As soon as I can.”
Leo responds with silence, his eyes two bottomless wells in his pale face. I feel a sting inside. I realize I may not have another chance. Anything that needs to be said should be said now.
“Hey, I’m sorry about what happened the other day. When you came over and I shut the door in your face. You didn’t do anything wrong. It didn’t have anything to do with you. I’m the one who—”
“It’s OK.”
I shake my head.
“No, it wasn’t OK of me to do that. I want you to know that, that it wasn’t OK at all. I’m glad you were brave enough to try again.”
Then I walk away with long but controlled steps. I don’t turn around a single time, don’t know if they’re still standing there watching me. For safety’s sake, I wait until I’m around the corner and out of sight before I break into a run. I see my sister’s car and pick up the pace a bit. Only now do I allow myself to relax, to feel the terror.
Oh, Veronica, what are you planning to do?
I throw myself into the driver’s seat and turn the key. Then I floor it, following in Veronica’s footsteps. Toward doom.
43
Fast, bordering on reckless, that’s how I drive. But it’s late Friday afternoon, and it takes time to get out of town. In some spots, traffic is so heavy and slow that I start yelling. At one point, I have to stop myself from jumping out of the car and continuing by foot. Adrenaline bolts through my body. How much of a head start does Veronica have? Fifteen minutes? More? She’s probably stuck in traffic, too, right? I cling to that thought, needing to believe it’s true, because then I can hopefully catch up to her as soon as we’re out of the city.
But as the height of the buildings along the side of the road gets shorter and the traffic lights fewer and farther between and traffic thins out, what can’t happen does. I take a wrong turn. Realizing that I turned left too soon, I swear out loud and hit the steering wheel. I slow down and do a U-turn, turning right across the solid line, and I don’t care about my fellow motorists’ angry honks. All I can think about is that I’m losing valuable minutes. My head is throbbing. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Then I’m back on the right road and I floor it. I pass one car, then another. The sun sinks toward the horizon. No sign of a gray SUV yet.
I picture Philip, unlocking and opening the door to the cabin, the cabin he, Veronica, and Leo have been to so many times, where they spend their weekends and celebrated holidays, laughing and resting and spending time together, just the three of them. Now he brings a stranger over the threshold. He lets her tromp right into their most sacred space—and trample it. He crosses the limit of decency so uncaringly, so unsuspectingly. And he underestimates his wife, underestimates the strength of her anger, the unbridled power of her desire for revenge. What will Veronica do when she gets there? What is she planning? Lines of text flicker past—sentences I wrote during the last week.