Reborn(4)

Without opening the bottle, I put it back on the shelf and tucked it behind the one labeled WILDFLOWERS.

I couldn’t revisit Gabriel today. Maybe not tomorrow, either.

His bottle—its contents—was the one I loved and hated and feared and tried desperately to forget.

But it was the one I couldn’t forget even if I tried.



Pots and pans crashed together in the kitchen as I made my way downstairs. I found my foster mother, Aggie, digging in one of the bottom cupboards, her hair tied back with a bandanna. Various ingredients were spread out on the countertop.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

Startled, she whacked her head on the edge of the cabinet door. She scooted back, rubbing the sore spot. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” I went straight for the coffeepot. Aggie had my favorite mug waiting for me nearby, and I filled it to the top.

“I’m looking for my Bundt cake pan.”

I gestured at the cabinet on the far left. “Check that one.”

She frowned, but looked inside and pulled out the pan in question. “Well, how about that.”

Out of all the foster parents I’d had, Aggie was by far my favorite. I’d been through five homes before settling down here.

Aggie was well into her sixties when she took me in. She was a single woman who had lost her only daughter to breast cancer many years back. Aggie understood loss like none of my other foster families had.

Our suffering wasn’t the same, exactly, but it was suffering nonetheless. She’d been patient with me from the beginning. Kind. Soft-spoken. I wasn’t sure where I’d be without her.

After I’d been rescued, I’d felt like a buoy lost out at sea. My mother had always been my rock—she was strong and determined and smart. In some ways, living without her was worse than being held captive.

A lot of my earlier anxiety attacks could be traced back to my mom’s absence. Some tiny thing would remind me of her—a scented candle, her favorite brand of chocolate, an old sweater—and the pain would come crashing back.

I couldn’t stop seeing her face, the panic in her eyes, when my captors threatened us both to secure my full cooperation. They didn’t come right out and say it, but it was certainly implied that if I didn’t do everything they asked, they’d kill my mother without hesitation.

“Do you work today?” Aggie asked as she handed me a banana. “Eat that up while I cook you some eggs.”

Aggie was forever pushing food on me, fussing over how thin I was. Compared to her, I was small—she was a large woman, with wide shoulders and a substantial chest—but compared to Chloe, or any of the girls Chloe hung out with, I was average sized.

“I have today off,” I answered, peeling back the banana’s skin. “Are you busy? We could have a movie day.”

“I have to be at the senior citizens’ center this afternoon, otherwise I would love to spend the day with you. You’ll be all right on your own?”

“Of course,” I lied. Honestly, I didn’t want to spend the day in the house by myself. When I was alone, I tended to disappear inside my own head, and my head was a landscape of horrors from the past.

Aggie gave me a sidelong glance before turning and busying herself at the stove. “Actually, you know what, I’m sure they can find another volunteer. I’ll give them a call and let them know I can’t make it.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense. I want to.” She waved the spatula in the air. “We were supposed to paint flowerpots today, and really, do I need more flowerpots?”

Her back deck was littered with them. Big pots on the floor, small pots lined up on the railings. More pots were placed around the house, and not all of them held plants. At least a half dozen of them held odds and ends. She was right, she didn’t need more, but that wasn’t the point. I hated asking her to change her plans for me.

But I couldn’t bring myself to object, either. The past was creeping up on me today, suffocating me like a shroud.

“If you’re sure,” I said, and she nodded. “Thanks, Aggie.”

She smiled. “Of course.”

I closed my eyes once she turned away, and pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache growing beneath my skull. I saw my mother in the darkness, screaming my name as my captors dragged her from me.

I’d escaped from where I was being held, but my mother hadn’t been so fortunate.

If I’d fought a little harder the last time I’d seen her, I would have hugged her, hugged her tightly and told her how much I loved her.





3

NICK



I WOKE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, choking back a memory of dear old Dad that had found its way into my dreams. I lay in bed for a while, trying to force myself back to sleep. When that didn’t happen, I tossed off the sheet, threw on some clothes, and headed downstairs.