“Oh, and you can stop worrying about Torrin and me, Dad, since I know the idea of us being together has always pissed you off. That’s over. All of it. Should make you happy.”
Dad’s forehead creases. “Happy? Do you think any of this makes me happy?”
I spread my arms and shout, “How do you think it makes me feel?” My vision blurs, but I blink it clear. “I lost everything. And even though I’m back now, I’ve still lost everything. I’m a twenty-seven-year-old with a high school junior education. I’m a woman in a girl’s body.” I pinch the billowing sweater hanging off from me. “I’m an adult living in her parents’ house who has to depend on them for practically everything. I love a man I can’t love. I want a life I can’t have.”
Dad reaches for Mom’s hand because she’s crying harder now.
“None of this makes me happy,” I whisper.
“And you think any of this makes us happy? Seeing you like this?” Dad motions at me, his jaw locking up for a moment. “Do you think it’s easy having you home after ten years and knowing you were so close that whole time? Knowing I’m a damn chief of police and couldn’t find my own daughter in the very same state she was abducted in?” Now it’s Mom reaching for Dad because he’s the one who looks close to tears. “I couldn’t find you, Jade. I should have been able to, and I didn’t. I had the resources and the manpower and the experience . . . I should have been able to find you. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I failed you.”
I want to cross the kitchen and throw my arms around him, but I stay where I am. I’m too close to crying, and I don’t want them to have to watch me shed another single tear. I don’t want them to feel any more pain or guilt or regret than I know they already do.
“Dad, please don’t. You didn’t fail me. Please don’t blame yourself.” I have to look away because I can’t watch my parents like this any longer. “The man who took me’s to blame. Not the people left behind who tried to find me.”
Dad moves a little closer, but he lets me have my space. “The person who got taken isn’t to blame either, Jade,” he says in as gentle a voice as he is capable. “You promise to keep that in mind, and I’ll promise to take what you just said to heart.”
I nod after a minute—not because I’m agreeing but because I’m too exhausted to argue.
“We’re trying here, Jade. We know this is hard on you, but it’s not easy for us.” Dad shifts and opens his mouth like there’s more to say, but nothing else comes.
“I know. You guys are doing such a great job, I swear. It’s me. I feel like every morning I’m climbing a mountain, but when I look behind me at the end of the day, I’m still in the same spot. I try to move on, to get better, but I get nowhere.” I’m staring at my hands the way Torrin was earlier—like I don’t recognize them anymore. “I think it’s because I’m still hanging on to my old life. Trying to get back to that. If I have any chance of getting better, I need to create a new life as the person I am now.” My brain is finally working, managing to get the ideas put together and the words out in a cohesive way.
“And how do you do that, sweetheart?” Mom’s putting on the brave face, but I know she’d still be crying if I wasn’t standing in front of her.
“I don’t know exactly, but if I want to make a new life for myself, I need to move out and find my own place.”
Mom’s eyes widen while Dad swallows.
“Coming back to this house, my bedroom . . . it’s too hard to move on when all I see is my old life here.”
“You just came back, Jade. You’ve never lived on your own,” she says.
“I’ve been on my own for ten years. I can do this.”
“Not right away. Give yourself some time to ease back into the world.” Mom glances around the kitchen like the walls are collapsing around her.
“The longer I stay here, the more time I’m wasting.”
“What about the GED? College?”
“I don’t know yet.” I shake my head. “I just know that I can’t figure any of that out until I’m on my own, able to make my own decisions as the person I am now.”
Dad clears his throat. “When are you thinking you’d like to start looking for your own place, Jade?”
Mom glances at him like she’s heard him wrong.
“As soon as possible,” I answer.
Dad nods. “Okay. Tomorrow we’ll start looking.”
Mom’s eyes close, but she doesn’t argue. I think she knows I need this. She’s just not ready to admit it out loud.
“Thank you,” I breathe.
“And next time your mom and I call you over and over, would you please answer? After what happened to you . . . you can’t just go and not answer when we don’t know where you are.” Dad has to look away. “Please?”
“I won’t,” I promise, feeling guilt gurgle up my throat. “I’m sorry.”
As I make my way through the kitchen to go upstairs, Dad’s head turns. “And you should call Torrin back.”
I stop. That’s the first time Dad has ever suggested I call Torrin back. “I should?”