“I’m sorry, Grace. Can you repeat? Not sure we caught that,” Sergeant Mullane requested.
I know what I am. I know what I saw.
“Archangel Grace Ann Miller,” I repeated, only slightly louder.
“Did she say what I think she said?” It was Officer Bladen’s unmistakably snarky voice.
“Grace, I’m sorry. Can you please repeat your name and speak directly into the microphone in front of you?” Sergeant Mullane instructed.
“Archangel Grace Ann Miller,” I stated as loud as I could without yelling.
I didn’t hear anything after that.
To Tell the Truth
Memories flew past like rewind on a DVR, only they seemed more like movie trailers, vivid as if they were happening at that very moment. If I closed my eyes, I could almost forget I was sitting in a police station, sit back, press play, and watch my life go by in HD. But I had no popcorn, and these people seemed serious as all get out. So I ignored the stench of the borrowed sweater and began my statement. I was going to tell them everything and not stop until they understood—until Gavin and I were free.
***
From as early as I can recall, my parents kept secrets. Not secrets like where my surprise birthday party was going to be, or where Christmas gifts had been hidden, but life-altering secrets, like we weren’t who I thought we were.
When Remi was eight and I was ten, I convinced Remi to join me in an eavesdropping session and took a strategic position at the top of the stairs behind the replica Impressionist painting that Mom had always insisted was real.
“I think we should wait until he is old enough to understand. No sense in telling him things that will only cause confusion. Besides, he’s maturing at a nice pace. Why upset things?” Mom said. She and Dad were holed up in Dad’s office, door open just enough for us to hear them.
I’m not sure why Dad even bothered trying to argue with her. She was never around long enough to be part of the family, and yet, he allowed her to make critical decisions on our behalf.
“But the folks in town,” Dad countered. “People can be cruel. He’s already big for his age. We should tell him. And Gracie? Don’t you think she has a right to know that she is not insane? Hearing voices, seeing things. It won’t be long—” Dad broke off, defeat in his voice. The way he said the word “people” was strange. What he said about me, even stranger.
I’d never told anyone about the voice I’d started hearing a year ago, but somehow they knew.
“Grace,” Mom corrected him. She hated that he called me Gracie. “—will be just fine. She’s only ten, for Pete’s sake. And as for the people in town? Honestly, Gabe. That’s what you’re worried about? I think we have more important things to contend with. You just do what you’re supposed to. Be there for them. And if you’re really that concerned about Grace, get her some charges,” she concluded as if that settled the argument.
Wow. What the heck is that supposed to mean?
Dad challenged her, something I’d never seen him do before. “Maybe we should talk to Michael. He put this whole thing in motion, after all.” There was urgency in his tone; they no longer seemed to be talking about telling Remi that Dad was not his biological father. Besides, everyone, including Remi, already knew.
“I’ve already spoken to Michael,” she said. Then it was really settled. The house was quiet for hours after.
I hated seeing Dad so powerless, but what could I do? I was just a ten-year-old girl who heard voices and saw visions. And, Mom? Seemed she was happy to go on letting me think I was insane. Motherly.
***
My mom could charm a priest out of his collar. She had no shame. She’d always been attractive, but she was more than just beautiful. Mom had an otherworldly power over men—over most people, actually. She’d gone from winning the Miss Missouri title to marrying, having two kids and playing Greta Garbo on Broadway without missing a beat.
We never had a strong mother-daughter connection. I don’t think either of us really put in the effort. Besides, that charm crap never worked on me, ever. When she was around, I pretty much ignored her except to eavesdrop on her conversations with Dad. I guess I felt the need to protect him, to make sure he never fell too deeply into her snare.