Page 48 of Forget Me Not
“Yes, it does,” I say, louder now as I think about my mom andme at the table that morning; her scream from upstairs and her mug on the ground.
The way I sat there silently, already knowing my sister was gone.
“Even when the police came, I still didn’t speak up. I didn’t want to get into trouble.”
I drop my head in my hands now, imagining the cops picking over our house as Detective DiNello leaned on the table, looked my mother square in the eye.
She probably spent the night at a friend’s house or something. You know how girls can be.
“They told us everything was probably fine,” I say, shaking my head as the tears stream out faster. “That she took a bag and she’d be back soon, so I never mentioned how she’d been sneaking out for weeks at that point. That I thought she was seeing someone because I could smell it on her clothes.”
“Claire,” Ryan says again. “None of that is your fault.”
“But what if I could have helped her?” I yell, the sentence coming out with a wet choke. “What if I had told someone sooner? My mom was so distracted that summer she never even realized what Natalie was doing, but maybe if I justtoldher she would have grounded her or something. She would have stopped her from leaving.”
“You don’t know that. You have no way of knowing that.”
“But instead, I kept it a secret because I liked going in there. I was selfish,” I say, the weight lifting from my shoulders as I confess it all for the very first time. “And I was scared, Ryan. A few days later, the police found Jeffrey’s car, that shirt with her blood, and it felt like the truth didn’t even matter. More than that, it felt like my fault.”
Ryan is quiet as I think back to those first few days, the slow realization of what my silence had done. My sister losing her life inthe very moment I was trying it on, twirling around in her mirror to admire the fit. Soon, I could no longer stand to be in her bedroom. The constant reminder of all the ways I had failed her haunting me quietly, driving me away.
“I think you should come back,” Ryan says at last, bringing my attention back to the phone. “Going out there might have been a mistake. And I’m sorry, I know I said it would help, but I can see now I didn’t know the full story.”
“I’m staying,” I say, my newfound resolve settled in deep. “I have a bad feeling, Ryan, and I’m not going to ignore it. Not again. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life wondering if I could have made a difference had I done something different.”
The line stays silent for a few more seconds until a thrash of rain rails on the roof. Then I turn toward the window, a bright strike of lightning illuminating the sky as the wind whips through the trees, invisible gusts making them bend.
I open my mouth, ready to tell Ryan I’m sorry, that I know he doesn’t agree but this is just something I have to do, when another crack of thunder cuts through the silence. It sounds like a gunshot, furious and loud, and my hand shoots to my chest as the lights blink out, my little house now shrouded in black.
“God, thatscaredme,” I say, wondering if Ryan heard it, too. He’s still silent on the other side of the line and it dawns on me suddenly as I wait for a response.
If the power is out, then the internet is, too.
I lower my phone, the call dropped as I stare at the exclamation point in the place of where the signal once was. Then I turn toward my laptop, sighing as I realize I won’t be able to use that, either.
That this gift of a free day is suddenly gone.
I glance back at the bed, the rumple of covers like a shadow in the dark. With no other options, I peel off my wet clothes and slideinto the sheets, gliding my hand through the blankets until I come across the diary, patiently waiting for me to make my return.
I pull it out, resting it against my propped-up knees and squinting as I take in the cover. It’s too dark to read without the bedside lamp or light of the sun streaming in through the windows… but then I look down at my phone again, realizing it still has a use without a signal.
I tap at the screen, navigating to the flashlight and turning it on. The battery is drained after taking those pictures, my conversation with Ryan, and constant search for a signal, so I figure I only have about an hour until it dies for good.
I perch the phone on my chest before opening the diary, the flashlight aimed at my next page. Then I lick my finger, rubbing it gently against Marcia’s words and watching in silence as the blue ink smears. The smudge is subtle, but it’s definitely there, and I realize with a sense of acute exhilaration that I altered it, this thing that was written over four decades ago. I changed history, left my own mark, and there’s something about that that gives me hope. The idea ofthenandnowcoalescing.
The present tenderly dipping its toe in the past like a grape seed in water, dozens of ripples made by one small change.
CHAPTER 32
APRIL 1984
Marcia twisted the knob on the shower wall, a spray of goose bumps erupting across her arms the second the water trickled to a stop. Then she closed her eyes and tipped her head back, the wet from her hair dripping down her neck before trailing down the length of her spine.
She felt cleaner than she had in weeks, almost like her old self again if she ignored the bouquet of pimples blooming across her back, the start of a wart itching the bottom of her foot. Her nails dirty, a perpetual yellow. The back of her hair matted with knots. A shower felt like a luxury at this point; lately, she had been washing in the river, pumps of pink hand soap lathered beneath her arms, between her legs. Artificial peony that clung to her for days and sheets of toilet paper tearing across her skin whenever she attempted to blot herself dry.
She whipped back the curtain, stepping out of this stranger’s tub before placing two wet feet on the mat. Then she glanced atthe mirror, the wordsLily was herewritten with a tip of a finger in the fog.
“Lily,”she yelled, slightly unsettled at the thought of her friend creeping in unannounced. She wondered how long she had been in there, hovering on the opposite side of the plastic as the white noise from the shower masked her movements.
