Page 38 of Forget Me Not
I pick it up, my fingers flipping through the remaining pages.
I’m about halfway done, maybe a few more hours until I reach the end.
I exhale, returning to the last page I left off. I’m still so tired, my brain bleary from whatever it is that I drank. I want to keep sleeping, slip back into oblivion and get some real rest, but it feels like I have to keep going if I have any hope of uncovering the truth, so I force myself to stare at the words, the age-stained pages and cobalt pen.
Fighting the murk still floating around in my mind as I attempt to focus, to slither back in.
CHAPTER 25
MARCH 1984
“Lily of the valley.”
Marcia turned to the side, a pinch in her scalp as Lily braided her hair. They were sitting out by the barn, their usual spot, bare legs crossed in the grass as a sleepy breeze carried in the stink from the river.
“What?” she asked, only half listening as Lily held out a spray of white flowers, delicate petals drooped into a bell.
“They’re why Mitch gave me my name.”
Marcia swallowed her response, that familiar flood of envy starting to swell in her chest.
“They’re dainty but tough,” Lily continued, pushing a stem into the braid. “Invasive, under the right conditions. They can make the most hostile environments home.”
Marcia glanced down at her leg, a red ant crawling its way up her thigh. Then she moved to flick it off, send it sailing safely away,but instead, she found herself pushing her finger down hard, flattening its body against her slick skin.
A sound from behind made them both turn around, the screech of old brakes as a car pulled up beneath the shade of the sweetgum. It was the same car Marcia had noticed her first day at the Farm, the one with that man sitting uncertainly inside. After Lily had introduced her to the others, Marcia had next asked about him, though her answer had provided more questions than answers.
Oh, that’s one of our regulars,Lily had said with a shrug.Some rich guy who just inherited a fortune and doesn’t know how else to spend it.
“You know, you don’thaveto leave.”
Marcia blinked back to the present, to Lily’s voice in her ear. Then she glanced to the side, staring at the streams of hushed light through the trees. The sun was starting to make its descent, which meant it was getting late, close to dinner. Around the time she had to get home.
“You could stay here with us.”
Marcia kept quiet, not sure what to say. At that point, she had been going to the Farm a couple times each week: after class, over the weekends. Her initial discomfort about the state of the place bleeding away like the slow drip of a faucet, an oozing wound. Sometimes she would walk to school in the mornings to find Mitchell parked behind the building, burnt-orange camper idling in the lot. In the beginning, there was always a moment of hesitation, a single second when she thought about pretending she didn’t see him at all, but every single time, she felt her body move toward him as if it had commandeered all control.
Then she would simply open the door and slide inside, skipping class completely as the day slipped away in a lazy haze.
“I wish I could,” she responded, surprised to find she actually meant it.
“What’s stopping you?” Lily asked, and Marcia could feel the warm breath on her neck as she thought about the inner workings of the Farm, this little community that they had built. They each had their own duties: cooking, cleaning. Every few days, Montana would drive one of the girls into town and they would come back with arms full of supplies. Most of it was strictly functional, things like food and soap and tampons for the girls, but every now and then, Marcia would catch a glimpse of something strange like an antique pitcher with a chipped lip, a small oil painting Lily would hang on the wall. A quiet hum as she decorated the barn with their bounty, each item adding its own personal touch.
“My family,” Marcia said, suddenly embarrassed at how childish it sounded. She knew she was the only one who actually left this place, that all the others stayed even after the sun set, and she hated that she wasn’t around for that. For the things that unfolded when the stars snuck out.
“Hm,” Lily grunted, continuing to braid.
Marcia pictured them now, her family back home: her father reclined in that chair by the fire and her mother in the kitchen, dutifully doing her chores. She knew they were starting to suspect something, some shift in her behavior they couldn’t quite place, but so far, they hadn’t pushed it. They hadn’t actually caught her breaking any of their rules, so they simply eyed her each night as she crept into her bedroom, probably counting down the days until the school year would come to a close. She was eighteen now, set to graduate in just a few months. College was off the table, which meant she would be expected to settle down soon, and the thought of that made her sick with dread. The idea of her life ending the second she was starting to feel so alive.
“What about yours?” she asked quietly, suddenly grateful they weren’t facing each other. She and Lily seemed to be about thesame age and Marcia always wondered how she got away with it all, spending every second here at the Farm. She wasn’t sure how to question it, though. She didn’t want to be rude, but now that the opportunity had presented itself, now that Lily had opened the door, she decided she had to see where it went.
“My what?” Lily asked, the words hard and flat in her throat.
“Your family.”
“Oh, I don’t have one.”
“Come on,” she nudged. “Everyone has a family.”
