Page 98 of Meet Me in the Valley
I catch these glimpses of her sometimes, and when I do, I want to freeze them, hold them close, memorize every second in case she disappears again. But then the laughter fades. And the weight of what’s unspoken crashes back in.
She left us. She left me.
“Do you know what happens to people’s brains when they have Alzheimer’s? Do you know the fear Mom feels when she has a bad day and gets trapped in a time loop? Do you know she bakes two apple pies a week, thinking it’s Dad’s birthday? Did you know I had to eat that pie and sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him while trying to hold back every ounce of resentment I had toward you because I had to go through another hard thing in my life alone?”
Something akin to sorrow rushes through my chest. It’s sad and dark. It casts an ugly shadow inside me, clouding my every happy thought and memory in its darkness. It’s impossible to see the light at the end of this when I look up at her.
Nora’s crying—maybe for me, for our mom. The situation itself. But it’s not good enough. I don’t want her tears.
“I didn’t know that, Tia. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t need your apologies now. I need you to make this right and see Mom. She’s getting worse, Nora. She called me around four this morning thinking it was you,” I cry out, letting the stampede of grief crush me as I drop every wall I’ve ever put up. I’m naked and vulnerable, bleeding out in front of my sister.
“I had to pretend I was you. Do you know how fucked up that is? Please,” I beg. “Please don’t make me do that again. I can’t survive it, Nora. Please, just fucking come home. I’m not askingyou to move back and drop your life here. I’m asking you to see your family. God, what did we ever fucking do to you?”
I’m laying it all out there. I’m completely hollow inside, exhausted by this emotional warfare on my heart. Hot tears track down my cheeks and plop into fat droplets on her wooden floor. I watch them splash, leaving a trail of my brokenness and grief in wet, sloppy puddles.
I see the pictures on the walls, the ones of Cali and Nora. Even the one with Logan’s mom. I see happy memories. Happy smiles. Then I remember the story of how Nora ended up in Vegas. How Logan’s mom basically promised her a better life here than anything Oakwood Valley could’ve given her. Two shattered souls running away from their own demons.
It doesn’t make sense to me why Nora couldn’t just stay with us and let us deal with her being pregnant. Why did she run away?
It hits me.
“Are you in trouble, Nora?” I ask warily, swiping away the wetness on my face with the sleeve of my shirt.
Nora’s eyes grow double in size. “What? What do you mean?”
“You left in the dead of night. You asked me to blindly trust you, and I did all these years. I never asked. I never questioned. But now I’m asking. Did someone bad do this to you?”
“Do what to me?” Nora huffs in frustration.
My breath shakes, and my chin trembles. I brace for an answer, praying I don’t hear what my head is telling me. Praying it won’t crush me more than I already am.
“Who’s Cali’s dad?”
“W-what?”
“You heard me.” My voice breaks before I can stop it. “Is he the reason you won’t come home? Did he—did he fucking ra?—”
The word sticks in my throat like broken glass. I choke on a sob, clutching at my neck as it tightens, raw and seizing. Sourbile rises, and I swallow hard, forcing it—and the panic—back down.
Across from me, the color drains from Nora’s face. Pallid, tepid skin. She goes still, ghost-pale, like her body’s betraying every secret she’s tried to keep buried.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” she snaps, voice brittle and cracking. “I’m not doing this with you.”
“S-so … it’s true?” I say, barely a whisper. “Hehurtyou?”
“I said I’m not doing this!” She stands abruptly, turning her back on me yet again.
Something in me snaps. I surge forward, grabbing her wrist and spinning her to face me. Her expression is no longer hollow—it’s wildfire. Her anger slashes across her face, sharp and furiously unrelenting. She yanks her arm free like I’ve burned her, recoiling from me as if I’m the one who did the damage.
“Nora, please,” I beg, breath shaking. “If you’re in danger, I can help you.Logan’s dad can help. We’ll keep you safe. I promise?—”
“Get out!” she screams, voice tearing at the air, vibrating the picture frames on the wall and rattling straight through my bones.
“Get out of my house, Tia! Get out!Get out!”
I don’t move. Can’t move. The silence that follows is louder than her scream—and it’s deafening. It’s then I realize the silence was all in my head as sound rushes back into the world. When I come to, it’s her piercing cries and wailing sobs, telling me to leave.
