Page 45 of Home Is Where the Bodies Are

“Hold on.” Dad backs his chair out and stands from the table, walking toward Mom.

“Michael’s going to flip over this. Make sure you get his reaction,” he whispers to her before leaving the room.

Mom says nothing.

A few moments later Dad appears back onscreen carrying a large wrapped box. “This is from the whole family,” he says, placing the gift on the table and beaming at his son.

“The whole family?” Nicole laughs. “I got him a yo-yo. I don’t know anything about this huge present.”

It’s true. Nicole and I didn’t know what was in the box.

Michael tears through the wrapping paper, revealing a Compaq ProSignia desktop computer, or at least that’s what it says on the side of the cardboard box.

He squeals and a string of words fly out of his mouth. “Awesome. This is da bomb. I can’t believe it. This is for me? Thank you, Mom and Dad. I love it so much.” He rotates the box, taking it all in.

“I hope this means I’m getting a car for my birthday,” younger me says, her eyes darting to Dad and then directly at the camcorder.

Dad pats the box with his hand. “Well, this is so Michael can do JavaScript coding at home. But since it’s the only computer in the house, we’re going to set it up in the front room so everyone can use it. Understand?”

We all nod but Nicole and I exchange a look. And I remember what it meant. Michael getting that sizable gift seemed so unfair to us and completely out of the norm. They didn’t have money for something like that, but now it makes sense. Michael’s birthday was the first of ours since Emma went missing. Mine is in April and Nicole’s is in March. Maybe this was their way of distracting us, keeping us from seeing the cracks in our own family or from uncovering the truth of what they had done. Busy minds don’t wander.

A knock at the front door startles me, pulling me from the past. I quickly eject the tape, slide it back into its sleeve, and place it with the others. Well, except for the one that’s been left out, set on top of the VCR. That one doesn’t belong with the others.

Out on the porch, I find Lucas. He’s wearing a gray knit beanie that I’m sure his mother made. His hands are slipped into the front pockets of his jeans, and he smiles at me. It’s the kind of smile that makes the eyes sparkle. No one’s looked at me like that in a very long time. Despite the temperature outside hovering in the fifties, my skin feels warm to the touch.

“Hey,” I say, pushing open the screen door so there’s nothing between us—well, except for that secret that feels more like a brick wall stacked five miles high. “Everything all right?” It’s the question you ask when you’ve gotten more bad news than good in your life.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” He pauses for a moment. “Oh, what happened here?” Lucas gestures to where the door’s wood has splintered.

I glance at it.The break-in. But I can’t tell him that, because it might have something to do with his sister and what our parents did. “Oh... we were hauling a piece of furniture out to donate to Goodwill and, well, that happened. Another thing to fix, I guess.” I shrug and offer the tightest smile. “Did you need something?” I quickly add, trying to make sure the subject of the broken door is changed.

His eyes linger on the door for a moment before swinging back to me. “No,” he says. “Umm... I just wanted some fresh air and to see if you had time for a walk?”

“Sure.” I nod. “Let me grab my coat.”

He smiles again. It’s smaller this time.

I shove my feet into a pair of old tennis shoes and grab the nearest coat hung on the rack. It’s a faded old denim jacket—Mom’s. I consider putting it back and picking another, but I don’t. I just slip it on. Some things you have to wear, like guilt and grief and old jackets left behind by loved ones who’ve passed.

“Where to?” I ask, closing the broken door behind me.

Lucas looks left, where our long driveway leads to the road. Then he looks right, where the curved waterway followed by concrete steps cuts through the hillside.

“How about down to the creek? I haven’t seen it in ages.”

I swallow hard but agree to his suggestion. It would be odd if I said I didn’t want to go down there.

We walk side by side, following the path of the waterway my dad poured when we were kids. It was his design, a means to ensure heavy storms didn’t erode his land when the rain ran downhill. Dad was always worried about losing things. He didn’t have much, which made what he had all the more valuable, even the dirt on his land. Both of my parents were that way. My mom due to loss. My dad due to having little to begin with.

There’s a drop-off a few feet high where a wall was created out of cement and rocks collected on the property. When the rain is heavy, it flows over it and crashes to the pavement, making a sound like a waterfall.

Lucas jumps first, his feet landing firmly on the concrete. He turns and holds out his hand to help me, just like he did when we were young. But unlike back then, I actually need the help now. I take his hand, bend at the knees, and hop off the ledge. When my shoes hit the pavement, my bad knee gives out, and I nearly tumble over. His hands grab the sides of my waist, keeping me in place so I don’t fall.

“I got you,” he says.

I look up at him, studying his face. There’s a thousand words I want to say to him but the only one I let out is, “Thanks.”

We exchange smiles. Mine is tight like a rubber band stretched to its limit. His is the opposite.

---