Jake tosses his own rock into the water. Big, round. It makes a splash.
“We don’t have all the pieces yet. That might be too big a leap to make.”
“But if you were guessing . . .”
His words are soft, but they still cut. “It’s not a bad guess, Elle.”
I stare at the skies over Bachelor, wondering just what the Sabres’ role is in all this. Was it just to unearth the emptiness of Mom’s grave? That’s why they came all this way?
“You know, for a second I let myself believe Mom was out there somewhere. I conjured up this reality that she’d survived somehow, and we’d find her.” I can’t help fingering the necklace hanging against my chest. “But if that was my mom Olivia was talking to at the hospital, then I’ve looked out through her eyes. I’ve felt the sickness inside her.”
Jake leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead. “I’m so sorry.”
I lay my head on his shoulder. The bridge is warm beneath our legs and our breathing resolves into the same rhythm. We sit like that for a long time. Until the summer eve is wrapped around us, and the trees are stained pink with the rays of the setting sun. How easy it would be to ignore the ugly parts of this world. The broken parts.
“Jake?”
“Hmm?”
“If my mom’s dead, what happened to her body?”
The sun dips below the horizon and the world turns to shadow.
“I don’t know.”
25
Brielle
Helene’s sitting at the desk just beyond the small waiting area when I enter the dance studio on Tuesday. She’s lovely in a pale-pink leotard and tights, her auburn hair pulled up like mine. She’s been working alongside me for months, but it’s still strange to see her here. So comfortable in the Terrestrial, so graceful and light on her feet.
I’ll be sad when she’s assigned elsewhere.
“Isn’t your class this afternoon?” I ask.
“I got a call from Miss Macy this morning. She needed to switch. Dentist appointment or something.”
“Ugh.”
I drop my bag next to a white folding chair and slide out of my boots and into my ballet slippers.
“How are you holding up?” she asks.
I shrug. “Managed to avoid Dad again this morning, so that’s a plus. Have you . . . been in touch with Virtue?”
We’re alone, but I keep my voice quiet. Helene leans forward, her hands cupping her chin.
“I haven’t,” she says. “But he’s near. I’ve heard him. Seen him. Elle, I’m fairly certain I know—”
We’re interrupted by the Sadler twins. Four years old, fuzzy red hair, and more freckles than Pippi Longstocking.
“Hey, girls!” Helene says. “You’re up early!”
“Do you mind if I drop them off now?” their mother says. “I got called into the office. I’ll be back on time, I promise.”
“Go ahead,” I tell her. “I was just going to warm up. You girls wanna come?”
Tia and Pria squeal.
“Can we play with the wings?” Tia asks.
“Of course,” I say, waving Mrs. Sadler away and shooing the twins into the studio.
“We’ll talk later,” Helene says.
I nod, my mind a mosaic of mismatched thoughts: Virtue, the absent Miss Macy, Jake, Kaylee and the community center, the Sadler twins and butterfly wings in purple and green.
And Dad. There was another curse-laden message on the answering machine this morning from Dad’s second-in-command. His drinking has to be taking a toll on the business. His truck was gone when I left, so I can only hope he made it to work today.
The girls raid the dress-up clothes and I settle into first position. Helene already has music playing. It’s our warm-up CD—all classical and soft. I take to the floor and lose myself for a bit. The halo seems to agree with my need to forget and warms me through as I lift and stretch, dancing across the floor.
At one point I catch Jake’s eye across the street. He’s chatting with Bob and the guys, chewing on a doughnut. He must be on a break. I stop and wave. They all wave back.
When the rest of my class arrives, I’m ready. Focused on them. Everything else will wait. It’ll have to.
Kaylee arrives just as I’m shooing the last of my girls into the waiting area. She drops into a folding chair just outside the door looking serious, which is unlike her.
“Hey, Kay. You all right?”
“You get my text?”
“No, I’ve been doing this all morning,” I say, gesturing to a floor full of sparkly material scraps, feathers, and straight pins