Page 68 of Everything We Left Unsaid

“I guess I’m just in shock,” she says, shaking herself. “My mind is reeling, wondering who could have done this.” She wrings her hands, the only outward sign of distress she shows. My mother has become quite good at keeping her emotions under control, but I expected her to lose her composure over this.

“We need to find out who had my phone,” I assert. “Who brought it to you?” I direct my question at my mother since she was the one who returned it to me when I got home from Sudan. All she’d said was that someone had found it and brought it to her. At the time, I assumed she meant one of the staff, but was so relieved I never asked who exactly. Or when.

“I don’t recall. One of the housekeepers, maybe,” she offers uncertainly.

That doesn’t really narrow it down.

“Think, Mom,” I demand. “Who found it? They may be the key to figuring out who fucked with my life!” My voice raises with each word until I’m shouting.

“Jacob!” my father scolds. “That’s enough.” Before he can continue, making me feel like a petulant child, I apologize.

“I’m sorry, Mom.” I blow out a frustrated breath. “I’m just upset, and I need to find out what happened. I need to know who caused this so I can make them pay. I missed out on everything.” My voice cracks with that final word and I pause for a moment, filling my lungs with air. “I missed out on the first year and a half of my daughter’s life. I missed the first ultrasound, her first word, the first steps she ever took.” I swallow thickly past the giant ball of emotion clogging my throat. “I missed the moment she came into this world. I missed the look on Abby’s face when she saw our daughter for the first time and kissed her tiny little hands. Someone out there stole those moments from me.”

My anguish returns to rage, and I’m almost grateful. Rage I can deal with. “That person knew what they were doing… They knew those texts and that letter would cause a rift between us big enough that I could never overcome it. Well, they got what they wanted, and now they’re going to get what they deserve.” I’m seething, my breath coming in and out in short bursts.

“I’ll pull employment records from that time. We’ll start there. Evelyn, try to remember who brought you the phone and we’ll question them. They may not even know anything about this. Someone else could have had the phone and they just happened upon it after the fact.” My mother nods her head in understanding. “We’re going to figure this out,” my father declares, stepping up to me and placing his hands on my shoulders.

Yes, I think to myself. Yes, we will.

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