Twenty Grace
My sleep was as fitful as ever last night. I kept dozing off to vivid nightmares that made no sense and waking up confused and annoyed. I struggle to the bathroom and turn the shower on, staring at the wall blankly while I wait for the water to get hot enough.
The steam builds around me, and I strip down and step into the scalding hot water. I close my eyes and let my muscles relax. I miss my shower in Bloomington. I miss my apartment. My life there. I miss things I can’t even let myself think about.
But I’ve missed life here too. I knew it would be hard coming back and facing the life I thought I would have and all the memories I left behind.
It’s even harder than I thought it would be.
I told Geny I wasn’t going anywhere, but honestly, I was hoping to be back home in a month at the most. I didn’t want to stay here indefinitely.
But even amid all the danger and the lies, I can feel Raven pulling me back in.
But I can’t stay.
Which means I have work to do, and I need to get a move on.
I quickly wash myself and turn the water off, but decide to stay downstairs until Geny and her family are through their morning routine.
I’m craving the coffee I can smell through the floorboards, but even more than caffeine, I crave a quieter start to the day.
The last two days have taken their toll on my mental and social battery, which I need to quickly recharge. So I’d rather not tiptoe around Wyatt and the boys while pretending I don’t notice Geny watching me like a hawk.
Geny is off work today, if I remember correctly.
And that’s another situation I need to handle with care.
I know she wants us to spend time together — I do too.
But I need to somehow avoid some of the questions I know she’ll be slinging at me as soon as she works up the courage again.
I also have some other plans, but to do those, I’ll need to put in the time with Geny or she’ll blow a gasket.
When the house above sounds like it’s quieted down, I venture upstairs, taking down my box tower first. Geny is sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee cradled between two hands.
“Good morning,” she says.
“Morning.”
She looks like she hasn’t slept much lately either. There are dark circles that ring her red-veined eyes. I make my way to the coffee maker and pour myself a generous cup before joining her at the table.
“I’ll give you money for groceries and whatnot,” I say before taking a sip.
She crinkles her nose. “No. That’s not necessary.”
“It is. You’re letting me stay here, and I’m eating your food and drinking your coffee.”
“So what? You’re family.”
What she says stirs up emotion in my chest. It’s been a long time since I’ve had family.
Since I’ve had any type of village. And our family was in every sense a village.
We were taught to show up for each other and for others.
No one had to ask for help because we were all so ingrained to assist without being asked.
Housework, cooking, school stuff. We tackled it all as a family.
I don’t remember when or why I started holding back from them. Hiding the fact that I needed help. I think it happened the way most things do. Slowly and subtly. Before I realized it, I was in over my head. I was so ashamed of what I’d gotten myself into.
I like to think I would have asked for help if given the time, if that night hadn’t gone the way it had.
I push the thoughts away. There’s no use in thinking about the way things might have been and how I could have changed things. This is the way things are.
“I’m going to go for a run in a few minutes. When I get back, do you want to go to the store with me? I don’t think I’ll survive another day without my bedside snacks and Diet Pepsi.”
Geny smirks. “Still addicted to Diet Pepsi?”
“Some things never change.” I stand up and drain the rest of my coffee before putting the cup into the sink. “I’ll be back in about an hour.”
She nods, and I go back downstairs to get my running shoes.
One thing I’ve missed for certain is running in Raven. The routes through town are perfect. I love the hilly landscape and the nearby wooded beach trails. The changes in elevation and scenery make it so I don’t get bored. The views are unbeatable.
In Bloomington, I preferred to run in parks. The traffic and crowds of people made it difficult to run on the streets. But I missed being able to put on my shoes and just start running right outside my door. I love the sting in my lungs from the cold, crisp air. There’s nothing like this.
As I run, I make plans for my evening. I’ll spend the afternoon with my sister, but arrange for a nice family night for her, Wyatt, and the kids. Make it seem like a gesture. Then, I’ll head out.
There’s a bar in town where the younger members of the PD like to hang out.
They get cheaper drinks, and it’s one of the only places in Raven that stays open later than midnight.
For a normal person, that’s a bit too late to be drinking on a weeknight.
But for cops whose shifts are all over the place, it’s perfect. And it’s where I’ll be tonight.
I have a lot to figure out and a lot to do, and all of it seems to center around Raven PD. Brooke thinks Morgan’s death wasn’t investigated the way it should have been. I want to know what’s happening with my father’s investigation. And I also want to know about my own death investigation.
Frank Gibbs “identified” my body. Who is inside my coffin and what’s being done about it? I knew Raven had a darker side to it. How could I not? But there’s a lot I don’t know and maybe more players than I originally thought.
When I get back from my run I feel a little clearer. I put on a fresh application of deodorant and throw my hair into a messy bun on top my head. I’ll shower again later before I go out. For now, it’s time to do something weirdly ordinary with my twin sister.
I drive, and she’s quiet in the passenger seat.
I don’t know how to get past this sticky spot between us.
Not without telling her things I can’t tell her.
Not yet. But I’m desperate to connect with her.
To feel like I used to. Like she’s the other half of me and not just a stranger I share memories with.
I grab my phone in my right hand and scroll through my playlists while trying to keep my eyes on the road.
“What are you doing? Don’t text and drive,” Geny says.
“I’m not texting.”
I can practically hear her eyes roll. “That’s just a catch-all phrase. Don’t mess with your phone while you’re driving.”
“Why don’t they just say that then?” I grin, knowing I’m annoying her.
“Grace.”
I find what I’m looking for and put the phone down. “All right, all right. I’m done.”
Music starts to play. It takes a second, but when I glance over, Geny is smiling.
“I haven’t heard this song in forever,” she says.
It’s a pop song that was popular the summer before the one that changed everything.
2008. We were going into our senior year of high school.
Life was good that summer. Geny and I were close, Wyatt and I were in a good place, and I was finally starting to come out of the fog after losing Morgan sophomore year.
The whole playlist is made of the popular songs of that summer. Geny played them in our room on repeat and drove me crazy. Without knowing us, you’d think I’d be the one more into radio pop. But Geny was the Katy Perry and Lil Wayne fan. I liked music that screamed at me. It was good running music.
I sing along to the lyrics I learned against my will so many years ago.
Geny joins in and, for a brief moment, I get exactly what I was wanting.
Just a few minutes of normalcy like we had in the past. Music is good for that.
A certain song can take you back to a time and a feeling you thought you’d forgotten.
We get to the grocery store faster than I wanted to. This damned small town. As we walk inside, the tension between us has eased. Things feel just a little lighter, and it’s enough for me.
I push the cart toward the pop aisle. “Literally nothing in here has changed.”
“Patty doesn’t like change.”
I nod. Patty is the owner. One of the chain grocers tried to buy her out a long time ago. Whatever she said to them, no one has tried again in decades. I maneuver the store by memory, throwing my favorite snacks into the cart before loading up on the healthier things most of my diet consists of.
“These things are strictly yours,” Geny says. “You don’t need to buy us groceries.”
“I know I don’t need to. It’s just the courteous thing to do, Gen. Let me be courteous.”
She sighs. “Can you not be difficult for once in your entire life?”
“Nope.”
She laughs.
We make our way to the checkout, and Geny helps me load my things onto the conveyor belt. The cashier smiles politely as she scans our items, but she keeps looking up at us, and it starts to feel uncomfortable.
I look around, trying to avoid making eye contact with her. There are two more women, both wearing the green aprons that signify their employee status. They stand close together, whispering and looking our way. They’re probably talking about me. I’ll be the topic of town gossip for a while.
I pay for my things, and we walk toward the exit. As we pass the women, I catch a piece of their conversation.
“Do you think he abused his daughters too? I mean he had to, right?”
I can feel the blood drain from my face. I glance over at Geny. From the look on her face, I can tell she heard them too. Neither of us mention it as we load the bags into my trunk.
We listen to the same playlist on the way home, and then play it on her Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen while we put the groceries away.
The mood has lifted slightly since overhearing the nasty conversation at the grocery store.
It’s almost the afternoon I’d hoped we have, except for the one blemish on the day.
I push it out of my mind and try to let myself enjoy the touch of normalcy and lightness with my sister.
“Do you remember the talent show we did in sixth grade?” Geny asks.
I cover my face with my hands and groan. “Nooooo. I try my best to forget!”
Geny cackles and I swat at her, which just sends her into another fit of laughter. It pulls my mind even further from the comments in town.
“You injured yourself trying to do a Shakira dance,” Geny says between breaths.
“Shut up! You did a freaking magic show! And you were afraid of the rabbit!”
She looks at me with wide eyes and throws her hands up. “That rabbit was mean. And I don’t like the way their feet kick all fast.” She shivers.
I laugh. “You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m not. That bunny was evil.”
I collapse onto the couch, and Geny sits across from me in one of the armchairs.
“Do you remember when Ben Turner tried to kiss you and you cried?” I ask.
Her face screws up in disgust. “He was gross.”
“He was not! He was adorable.”
“I saw him picking his nose on the bus once,” she says.
“Oh, like you’ve never picked your nose.”
Her mouth falls open. “I haven’t!”
I sit up on the couch and lean toward her. “Genevieve! I shared a room with you. You definitely have!”
She gasps. “I literally have never! You’re lying!”
“I am not. I remember it clearly!”
“Well, your memory can’t exactly be trusted, can it?”
I open my mouth to respond before her words really hit my brain. Then I close it without saying anything.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “That was mean. I ruined the moment—”
I shake my head. “No. You’re right.”
“It was a stupid thing to say. I don’t know why I said it.”
I shrug. “Because it’s true.” I stand up. “Hey, I’m going to go shower. I have plans later tonight and I don’t want to be in a dried layer of sweat.”
“Grace . . .”
“It’s okay, Geny. I’m not mad. I’m just going to shower.” I smile closed-lipped and walk downstairs.