Page 101 of Dark, Forbidden, & Taboo

Ava’s hand is resting on my shoulder as gently as her voice.

I’ve been home for at least thirty-five minutes, but I haven’t gone inside.

I don’t know what just happened or why I felt like I needed it as much as I did. I haven’t been able to go inside and face her,because if she knew where I had been all afternoon, she’d be rife with questions that I’m not in the right mind frame to answer.

Shame you don’t have your ruler,he said, and I can’t help but think that was supposed to jog my memory.

When was the last time I held a ruler? Ten years ago? Fifteen?I can’t remember because it was never a big deal to me.

I sit up instantly and drop my face from my hands.

“I’m fine, Ava. Go inside and get dinner started,” I say in a rush as I walk past her and head down into the basement.

There are boxes upon boxes piled up along the wall from when I used to teach. I had to stop when Ava’s parents died, so I could stay home with her full-time and raise her to the best of my ability.

“Aunt Celeste?—”

“Ava, I said to start dinner, please!” I bellow over my shoulder.

I can hear the shuffle of her footsteps as she moves away from the basement door and then listen as they move across the floor until she’s in the room I told her to be in.

I glance around until my eyes land on a box cutter. I grab it then dutifully start to open all of the boxes that contain mementos from years long past, flipping through yearbooks, letters from parents, commendations, and even a few reprimands.

I blow out my breath twenty minutes later when I feel like I’m never going to solve the mystery, until I notice one box that I'd missed.

Reaching for it with trembling hands, I set it on the floor, open the tape with the box cutter, then sit on my heels.

I have to do some digging before I find the yearbooks for that school, and I have to flip through at least five of them until I find the one I’m looking for.

Theology I.

My eyes begin to search the faces of the boys in the picture, wracking my brain for some kind of memory of any of them, and then I see him.

Shoulders hunched, leaning away from me in the front row of the photo. So much anger and disdain in eyes so goddamn unique that I’m kicking myself for not placing him the moment I saw him.

I look down at the rows of names and my chin drops to my chest.

Finley Bradshaw.

“Fuck,” I mutter quietly as I toss the yearbook back into the box and go back to putting all of them in their rightful places.

___

My breath comesout in small shudders as I wait for the phone to be answered. I’ve been locked in my room for the past ten minutes debating making this call, and when I decided that I had to, I felt myself dreading the conversation.

“Bay City Body Arts,this is Rya speaking,” comes the cheerful tone.

I close my eyes tightly.

I never would have placed Rya because Finley attended an all-boys high school, so the likelihood of seeing her outside of school would have been slim to no chance.

“Hello?” she asks, cheerfully.

I clear my throat nervously as my finger begins to spin around the phone cord, until I finally let out a breath and speak.

“Yes, hello,” I begin, my voice cracking slightly. Rolling my eyes, I try again, “Hello Rya, this is Celeste, Ava’s aunt. Sheleft her aftercare paperwork at the shop I think, and I was wondering if I could speak to Finley and take some notes?”

Rya sighs. “I’ll ask him. Please hold.”

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