Page 18 of Tied

“It’s okay. I forgot to pull my sleeves down.”

He dumps a packet of sugar into his coffee, his jaw clenching. “You shouldn’t have to wear long-sleeved shirts all the time. People should just shut the hell up and be respectful of others.” He’s angry for me, and I hate to see him this way. He’s a very calm, soft-spoken guy most of the time, and it bothers me that being around me makes him mad.

I reach over and touch his hand, which is stirring his coffee with a fierce briskness. He stops and glances up at me with a look of surprise on his face. I never initiate touching, and I pull away quickly. Reaching out to him felt like an impulse, almost an involuntary reflex. Maybe it means I’m starting to trust.

“It’s okay, Zac,” I say softly. I rub my hand against my thigh, still feeling slightly awkward about touching his hand. I’m brimming with so much I want to say, but it’s like there’s this cork inside me that keeps me from letting it all out. I want to tell him how scared I am that I’ll never feel normal. That I’ll never feel like part of the family. That I may never have a relationship. That people will always look at me like I’m damaged and dirty. I want to tell him I’m sorry he has to deal with the questions and the stares sometimes, too. “I really don’t want to talk about it but… people recognize me, they ask questions. I have to get used to it.”

“I don’t know how you don’t scream at these rude-ass people.” Zac busies himself spreading butter from a tiny plastic cup onto his bagel.

“You screamed. You know what that means. You scream, you get burned. You pull away? The dog gets burned. Get it through your head.”

I shake my head, momentarily afraid to speak.

“So, how was your visit with Mom and Dad?” he asks.

I focus on my brother’s face and wait for the memory to fade back into the dark hole it seeped out of. “Good. The same.” I take the lid off my latte, peer inside, and put the lid back on. “Thankyou for letting me stay in your room. It really came out pretty.” He nods, and I continue. “Mom and Dad were nice… but they didn’t talk to me much at all. It felt like they were only seeing me because theyhadto, not because theywantedto.”

He nods again, and I pull a blueberry from the soft, yellow fluff to examine it. “I don’t know, I’m still just trying to fit in. Feather has taken me shopping and out to eat a few times, but she usually spends most of the time we’re together typing on her phone. I tried to spend some time with Lizzie during the visit, but Mom acts a little crazy about it, like she doesn’t want me near her.”

He chews his bagel and swallows. “That’s because she told Lizzie a few years ago that you were an angel in heaven. Lizzie thought you were dead, and now here you are, alive and well.” He says it matter-of-factly, without easing into it.

“What?” My muffin sticks in my throat, and I sip some of my latte to try to force it down. It’s so sugary sweet, it gives me a momentary jolt. “Mom told her I was dead?”

“Yeah.” He looks like he can’t believe it himself.

“You’re dead, little girl. Dead, dead, dead. You don’t even exist.”

“But… why? Did they have any reason to think I was dead?” I ask. It never even occurred to me while I was gone that my family would assume I was dead. I always believed they would keep looking for me until they found me.

Zac shakes his head. “No… there was nothing that ever hinted at that. No evidence at all. Your friend ran home and told her mother what happened, and she called nine-one-one. Everything happened so fast. But you disappeared without a trace. In her panic, Sammi didn’t notice what the guy looked like, or his car. She’s always felt really guilty about that… We’ve talked a few times over the years. You should maybe contact her. She would probably love to hear from you.”

I had never even thought to contact my childhood friend who had run off while the man dragged me into the car, and I’ve never wondered how she felt about it. “Unfortunately, no one saw anything, even though you two were right in our neighborhood. The leads dried up pretty quickly. It just seemed hopeless. And so I think, for Mom, it was easier to say you had died than to tell Lizzie you were kidnapped and missing. That’s scary for a little girl to hear.”

“I lived it, Zac. It was scary forme.”

“Holly,Iknow that.” He leans forward. “But Mom is just… in denial about a lot of things. She always has been. She can’t deal with reality.”

I push the other half of my muffin across my plate, my appetite gone. “No wonder Lizzie stares at me all the time.”

My brother takes an uneasy pause. “Mom’s very overprotective of her. She had a total meltdown after you were taken. For months, all she did was lie in bed and eat Valium. When she wasn’t sleeping, she was pacing all over the house or walking up and down the street. She didn’t start to act normal again until she got pregnant and Lizzie came. Lizzie totally distracted her from everything and, in some ways, that was good—but bad in a lot of ways, too. She put herself in denial about what happened to you, and projected all her love and happiness onto Lizzie. She barely lets her out of her sight.” He lets me absorb that for a few minutes before continuing. “And Dad just thrust himself into his work. Our whole family fell apart. Nothing has ever been the same.”

I shouldn’t feel jealous that my mother is trying to protect Lizzie from something bad happening to her, like what happened to me. But I do. A mix of envy, jealousy, and anger simmers deep in my stomach. “I don’t even know what to say,” I finally tell him,not wanting my emotions to come vaulting out of my mouth in the middle of this quiet cafe.

“They feel guilty, Holly. They blamed themselves for a long time. Still do. What parent wouldn’t?”

Does blame and guilt make you wish your child was dead instead of missing? Was that actually easier for them to cope with? My bottom lip quivers. “I think they wish I never came back. Maybe me being dead would have been better for them. For all of you…”

Zac’s eyes turn a darker shade of brown. “Holly, don’t even say that. We’re all glad you’re back, safe and alive. We love you.”

Counting to ten, then fifteen, I breathe deeply, feeling overwhelmed. Emotional. Feelings I’m not used to. “It doesn’t always feel that way. And I don’t mean you… you’ve been so nice to me since I came back. You’ve never acted weird around me. I always look forward to seeing you. And I really like Anna. But I feel like an outsider around everyone else. It all feels… awkward. I feel like I don’t belong.”

There. I finally said it. A tiny weight lifts from my shoulders.

He listens intently, leaning on the table, exactly like when we were younger. “I know, Holly. Listen,” he says. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something. Next summer, Anna and I are moving to New York. My friend John has a business out there. Do you remember John?”

I search my memory, trying to remember a John. “John from next door?” I ask as the image of a skinny, sandy-haired boy with hazel eyes comes to mind.

“That’s him. We’ve been best friends since we were kids. He’s offered me a great job. A partnership, actually. The money is good, and the business is doing great,” he says, his eyes lighting up. “I don’t think it’s an opportunity I can pass up.”

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