Page 6 of One Last Secret

“All I see is the vanishing point.”

My brow furrows. “The vanishing point? What’s that?”

“It’s where they vanish.”

“Who?”

“Everyone.”

I don’t speak for a moment. I’m really not sure where to go from here. What Iwantis to ignore this and move on with a more ordinary and more pleasant introduction.

But my curiosity is piqued. The urge toknow, to have nothing hidden or secret or kept from me, is nearly overwhelming. It’s the curse that has gotten me into trouble with so many employers in the past.

I really don’t want it to get me into trouble now, though. I like this house, and I had a great first impression of Victor. I don’t want that poisoned by another mystery. Anyway, I’m here in the first place to try to figure out what happened to Annie. It’s high time I stopped worrying about other people’s problems and addressed my own.

I fight the urge to probe further and say, “Well, I’ll be honest, I’m not a huge fan of the ocean either. What do you like?”

“Drawing.”

“Ah. An artist, just like your father. What do you like to draw?”

“People and places.”

I can see I’ll have my work cut out for me. My experience with children has taught me that forcing them to open up to me is rarely effective. I’ll need to be patient.

“I would love to see some of your work sometime. If you’re willing to share it, of course.”

“Sure.”

Her facial expression doesn’t change the entire time. It’s almost vacant. Her lips remain flat, not smiling and not frowning. Her hands stay folded on the desk, and she sits… it’s hard to explain. Almost as though she’s been placed there and lacks the will to move.

"So," I begin. "For today, I thought we'd review what you've been working on last semester. Over this week, we'll make a plan for the rest of the year. We'll identify any areas that you might need extra help with, as well as areas of aptitude we can leverage for your college applications. How does that sound?"

“Fine.”

She reallywillhave to speak more than that at some point.

“So you have an interest in art. That’s good to know. I think I’ll let your father handle your instruction in that area, though. I’m afraid I—”

“He won’t teach me,” she says.

The interruption stuns me less than what she says. “He won’t? Why?”

“He’s rarely available,” she says. “He’s working all the time. He doesn’t seem to like it.”

I’m wholly unprepared to deal with this admission. Celeste’s attitude makes far more sense knowing that her relationship with Victor is strained, but my impression of him was so goodthat it’s hard for me to reconcile the charming if distracted man I meet with the neglectful parent Celeste describes.

Then again, the line between distraction and neglect can be a thin one, and to a lonely child, Victor’s distraction might be mistaken for disinterest. Also, I don’t know Victor or Celeste well. I should reserve judgment for the moment.

“Well, we’ll work on that,” I say with a wink. “Now, let’s get to your lessons.”

I review the key subjects and competencies that a senior in high school must have a firm grasp of. Today is a very broad review, mostly to gauge her interest and get a general impression of where she stands.

I find that exceedingly difficult to do. Celeste gives only brief answers to my questions and shows no emotion. She rarely makes eye contact with me, choosing to spend most of her time staring at the ocean, out to the “vanishing point.” When she does make eye contact, those dark eyes unnerve me. I assume she blinks, but I have yet to see it happen. It’s almost as though I’m speaking with a computer program and not a real person.

Superstition aside, I sense a deep sadness in her. I’ve seen such melancholy in only one person before.

Annie was always cheerful. She was a very bubbly and outgoing young woman, never introverted or emotionless like Celeste. Behind her smile, though, was a sense of isolation, much like what I see behind Celeste's unnerving stare.

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