Page 65 of I'm Not Done with You Yet

There’s an ugly sensation unfurling in my guts.

“We both assumed these men were cads. What you kids would call ‘players,’ or ‘fuckboys.’ ” She snorts at my raised eyebrows. “What, you think I don’t know the way you kids talk nowadays? Anyway, so. Fuckboys, they existed back then, too, so we just thought, ah, he got bored of Joanne and just stopped calling, stopped coming round. Joanne would cry and then she’d get over it and move on. See, I always had my suspicions. I thought that maybe Thalia had said something to these men to drive them away. But I told myself that was, well, maybe not quite normal, but it wasn’t illegal. Kids rebel against the people their parents are dating all the time, don’t they?” Her tone is almost pleading.

I shrug. I wouldn’t know. My mom never dated anyone after my father passed, shrouding herself in unhappiness, reveling in her self-imposed loneliness so she could blame it on me.

“It wasn’t until him—” Aunt Claudette points to a balding man who looked somewhere in his midforties. “Freddy Somer. He disappeared like all the rest, but unlike the others, he had people who loved him. People who reported him missing. It all came back to Joanne, and the cops found nothing on her, of course, because she was innocent. She was horrified, actually. But I remember being there when the cops came to the apartment to question her, and I saw Thalia—she was listening in from the next room, and that look on her face—” She shudders.

“You think she did something to all these men?” I don’t even recognize my own voice. “But that’s impossible. You said the first one disappeared when she was twelve? How could she have—”

“I don’t know about the other men. I—when the cops came asking about Freddy, I thought maybe—I don’t know. But I kept a closer eye on Thalia. I love Thalia like my own kid, I do, and she’s done so much for me—she paid for all this, you know? Iwouldn’t have managed to retire in a place like this on my teacher’s salary. I didn’t want to—I didn’t want anything bad to happen to her. But—” Her voice wavers and she takes a shaky breath. When she speaks again, the words come out as a whisper. “A couple years ago, they found him.”

“Freddy?” I don’t get why she’s looking at me like that, with her eyes all wide and burning with fear. “I think I’m missing something...”

“They found his body. He’s been dead for years. Some hikers found the—ah, the remnants.”

Horror crawls, like a spider, from the base of my spine all the way up my neck. My scalp prickles, everything inside me curling up into a tight ball.Thalia, what have you done?

Her hands twist in her lap, fingers squeezing and writhing. “I want to believe that it was a coincidence. Maybe he was out hiking and fell? Freak accidents, they happen more often than we think, right?” She squeezes her eyes shut, and for a few moments, there’s silence, except for the sounds of our breathing, deafening in the dead air. “All I know is, my time’s coming to an end. I’m going to see my own judgment day, and I told myself, if someone were to come one day, asking about Thalia, I’m going to tell them everything. I know it sounds crazy, and it’s all probably going to turn out to be nothing, but...” She swallows. Takes another deep breath. “The point is, I love that girl, but there’s something broken inside her, and she scares the hell out of me sometimes.”

Hope blooms inside my chest, bright and burning. “I need to talk to her. Do you know how I can get a hold of her?”

At this, Aunt Claudette’s mouth tightens, and I realize with a sinking feeling that even though she says she knows what a monster Thalia is, she’s not quite ready to give her up just yet.I’ve miscalculated, been too forward. I should’ve taken more time to listen, nudge Thalia’s address or phone number out of her gently. That’s what Thalia would’ve done. Still, I can’t judge Aunt Claudette too harshly, I know, especially since Thalia is apparently footing the bill for this place. And she knows where Aunt Claudette lives. If I were Aunt Claudette, I wouldn’t be in a hurry to sell Thalia out either. She turns away from me slightly and says, “I’m quite tired now, dear. Maybe we can continue this another time?”

I wipe my face, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest. I want to shake her and tell her how Thalia’s made me out to be a stalker, a murderer. But the last thing I want is for her to call for help. It would be yet more evidence of my so-called erratic behavior. “Okay,” I say in a small voice. “Thank you, Aunt Claudette.”

She’s already turning her wheelchair away from me, probably can’t stomach another moment of looking at me. As I pick up my purse to leave, I see a notebook sitting atop a stack of letters on a side table. I don’t even hesitate before taking the entire pile and hiding them behind my purse. Aunt Claudette turns around then, and my heart jams its way up my throat, but she only gives me a sad smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

“You’ve done enough,” I mumble, and hurry out of her room.

Outside of the facility, I look through the pieces of Aunt Claudette’s mail. Two of them are spam and the third is a credit card bill. Gritting my teeth with frustration, I stuff them into my bag and flip through the notebook. My heart soars, because as it turns out, I’ve managed to steal Aunt Claudette’s address book. I go through the pages until I find Thalia’s name.There are four different addresses listed in here, one in Jakarta, one in Singapore, one in Dubai, and one in—bingo!—Manhattan. I take out my phone and order a Lyft, my breath coming out ragged as I key in the address. Once it’s ordered, I briskly walk out of the driveway and down the street, eager to put some distance between me and Aunt Claudette before she realizes that I’ve stolen her things. When the Lyft arrives, my breath releases in a whoosh. I spend the entire car ride wringing my hands, working out different scenarios, a multitude of ways in which my confrontation with Thalia could go.

I don’t know what I was expecting from the address, but when the Lyft arrives at my destination, I get out and look up. And up. And up.

So Thalia lives in a bloody skyscraper right next to Central Park. So what? She married Ivan, so they’re rolling in dough. I knew that. Still, as I walk toward the imposing building and the doorman nods and opens the door for me, I can’t help but feel intimidated. It’s probably the desired effect. I feel completely out of place, dwarfed and fraudulent. The inside of the lobby is all shiny marble and gilded edges and lush carpet. A receptionist stands to attention and, after giving me a once-over, puts on the bare minimum of a smile; she knows I don’t belong here.

“Good evening,” she says. “Visiting someone?”

I try to look as imperious as I can. “Yes. Thalia Ashcroft. Or she might go her married name, Pranajaya.”

“Ah yes, Mrs. Pranajaya. And your name is?”

“Jane,” I say without thinking. Then I realize I should’ve given her a fake name, but it’s too late.

“I’ll let her know you’re here.” She picks up the phone.

“Oh, don’t bother. I’ll just go straight up. She’s expecting me.” The words sound like a lie even to my own ears.

She looks at me like:Who’re you kidding?And I can’t blame her.

“I was going to surprise her,” I say lamely.

She gives me an icy smile. “Our residents don’t like surprises.” She punches a number into the phone and waits. “Hello, Mrs. Pranajaya, sorry to bother you, but there’s a guest here for you? Jane. Yes.” She glances at me and she’s no longer bothering to smile, not even a little. “Of course. I’m so sorry to bother you, ma’am.” She hangs up, and when she turns to face me, her face is cold. “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave the premises.”

I hate myself. I should’ve been better prepared. What the hell was I expecting? To just be able to barge into her apartment? Actually, yes, that was exactly what I expected. For Thalia to live like a normal person, without security manning the lobby of her apartment. For me to be able to randomly press buttons on the front of the building until someone buzzed me in.

“Ma’am, did you hear me? Please leave the premises or I will call security.”

I glare at her balefully before turning for the front door. I dip my head and look down at the marble floors, so shiny that I can see the lights reflected in them. I’ll wait outside, I decide. I don’t care how long it takes. Thalia can’t possibly stay in her apartment forever.

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