“Thank you—”
Cecily held up her hand. “Do not say that. God, I don’t even know why I care. Why should I protect you? What the fuck, Kaitlyn? What the fuck?”
“I can explain.”
“There’s no way you can explain any of this.”
“You’re right. I probably can’t.”
“You’re alive. My God. You’re alive.”
“I’m alive.”
Cassie’s eyes were wide, and she looked as if she was trying to speak. She leaned against her mother. Cecily put her arm around Cassie’s shoulder. Her eyes narrowed at Kate.
“You ran away?”
“I ran away.”
“Stop doing that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Cassie, go upstairs.”
“But Mom—”
“Go upstairs right now. Do not tell your brother who’s here. Tell him to stay in his room. And do not text anyone or call anyone or do anything online.”
“Mom—”
“Do it now, Cassie.”
Cassie looked frightened by her mother’s tone. She turned on her heel and ran up the stairs. A door slammed.
“How dare you?” Cecily spat out the words.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that. You were my friend.”
“I had to go, Cecily. I can’t explain it; I just had to.”
“Because of Tom?”
“What? Omigod, no. Not . . . You know about that?”
“I know about that. I know about that now.”
Kate backed up until she hit the front door. “I’ll go.”
“You’re not getting off that easily. You, what, ran away, let us all think you were dead, and now you’re back? What the fuck is going on? Why are you here?”
“Franny Maycombe. She’s the reason I came back.”
“Seriously? I should’ve known you were capable of doing something like this when I found out you hid her from us. How could you do that, Kaitlyn? How could you not even tell me that you had a daughter? After everything I shared with you?”
“But I didn’t. That’s why I’m here. Franny’s not my daughter.”
“What?”
“I swear to God. I’ve never seen that woman in my life.”
Interview Transcript
TJ: Thanks for coming in again, Franny. It’s been a couple weeks. How are you?
FM: I’m fine. I’m good, actually. Really good.
TJ: I’m glad to hear that.
FM: I’ve been thinking about our last conversation, you know.
TJ: You have?
FM: Yeah, like, a lot. And I just want to make it clear that my family—my adopted family—they have nothing to do with this. Nothing to do with who I am today or what I’m about.
TJ: I find it interesting that you’d say that.
FM: I’m not sure what you mean.
TJ: Well, everyone’s a product of their family, aren’t they?
FM: I don’t think so.
TJ: Why not?
FM: I think you can, you know, overcome your family. Like, there are people who had terrible childhoods, just the worst, but they’re out in the world acting like normal people. They’re not drug dealers or whatever. They have jobs and families and they’re doing things. Normal things. So they didn’t get caught by their circumstance.
TJ: Is that what you did?
FM: Maybe. I mean, I don’t want you to think my adoptive parents were bad or anything. They didn’t, like, abuse me. But like I said before, there was always this different thing about me in that house, like I was a guest who stayed too long, like I should be looking for somewhere else to live.
TJ: Are you sure about that?
FM: Of course I am. I mean, my sister even said that to me when I was a junior in high school. Like she expected me to move out right after graduation, even though she hadn’t, because then our parents didn’t have any responsibility for me anymore.
TJ: That sounds cruel.
FM: She was cruel. I’m telling you. That’s why we don’t talk anymore.
TJ: Yes, well, that’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.
FM: What do you mean?
TJ: We’ve spoken to Sherrie.
FM: What? Why would you do that?
TJ: It’s standard background procedure.
FM: What gives you the right?
TJ: You did, actually. When you signed the release to do the documentary, you gave us permission to speak to any member of your family who would agree to speak to us.
FM: No one told me about that clause.
TJ: You had the contract for two weeks. You were encouraged to speak to a lawyer, to have them review it.
FM: I couldn’t afford to do that.
TJ: I’m sorry, you should’ve said.
FM: I wish you hadn’t done that.
TJ: Spoken to Sherrie?
FM: Yes. She . . . she said bad things about me, didn’t she?
TJ: I wouldn’t say that exactly—
FM: She’s always been a liar. And she hates me. You know that, right? I told you. I just told you how mean she was to me.
TJ: That doesn’t quite add up—
FM: I knew that if she had the chance, she’d find a way to screw this up for me.
TJ: Screw what up for you?
FM: My life. She just wants me to be miserable because she’s miserable.
TJ: Again, I don’t think that . . . Don’t you want to know what she told me?
FM: It’s just all going to be lies. She’s a liar. She has been since we were kids. Always saying I was the one who hit her or took her toy or whatever. You name it. The names she would call me.
TJ: Yes, the subject of names did come up.
FM: What do you mean?
TJ: You tell me, Franny. Or should I say Eileen?
PART III
Cecily It took me six hours to get home on October tenth. When the immediate threat was cleared, they started running the trains, one at a time, packed to the gills as if we were in Tokyo. Police in riot gear checked each of us as we got on, searching through our purses, verifying IDs. It took forever and reminded me of a book I’d read years ago called Jessica Z., about a young woman struggling to find her place in a world where acts of terror had become quotidian. Was this just the beginning, a complete shift in the way we had to live now, or was it simply a gas explosion as the rumors on the platform said?
When the doors to the train finally closed, I realized Teo was still with me. I hadn’t thought about it as we shuffled through the line, but it was doubtful we were going to the same place.
“Is this your train?” I asked.
“Close enough.”
“You didn’t have to come with me.”
“Sure I did.”
Our arms were by our sides, our hands inches from touching. I laced my fingers through his. My hand had spent so much time in his that day, what did a few more minutes signify?
The train rattled past our changed city and on and on until it was out. It was a one-stop shop, the police officers told us on the purple line, running all the way to Linden, which meant we went right through downtown Evanston without stopping. It was unbearably hot and eerily quiet. No one was speaking; they were buried in their phones, hitting “Refresh” on their news feeds. I couldn’t bring myself to look. I didn’t want to know the details, how many dead, how many missing, who else I knew who wasn’t coming home. I didn’t want the confirmation that Tom was where I knew he was; his failure to answer any of the messages I’d sent him after Cassie’s question was all the confirmation I needed. I kept my phone in my pocket, my eyes fixed on the back of the person standing in front of me, and tried not to think too much about what I’d have to face at home.
When we got to Linden, Joshua was there. He was standing in front of his minivan, one of a long line waiting like parents in a school pickup line. He was scanning the crowd, up on his tippy-toes, not wanting to miss anyone. I dropped Teo’s hand and waved at him frantically.
“Joshua! Over here.”
Our eyes locked for a moment, but then he continued his scan.
And that’s when I knew. He wasn’t there for me. He was there for Kaitlyn. Kaitlyn! She was as lost as Tom.
My knees buckled.
Chapter 29
The Least Complicated