Page 15 of Made for You
With a whine, he obeys, heading to the spot in the kitchen I trained him to go to. I follow. “Good boy.”
“Everything okay?” says Eden.
“Yeah, fine. Captain’s just going a little nuts.”
Okay. Recentering. I’ve already packed my vast shoulder bag with the battery-run breast pump, empty milk storage bottles, my wallet, and a couple granola bars. I’m trying to think if I need anything else.
“So I hope to be back by dinner?” I say as I pull two bags of breast milk from the freezer and plop them into a bowl of lukewarm water.
“Okay, so around five or six, then?” says Eden.
“I think so.” Two hours to the campsite. An hour to look around. Two hours back. I should also probably stop by the diner where Josh was supposed to meet Andy. Maybe someone will remember something. “Six at the latest.”
“Well, for real, stay out as late as you want. I have no plans,” Eden says, making herself comfortable on the sun-drenched and freshly cleaned family room couch just off the kitchen. “Is everything okay, by the way? I saw the sheriff’s cruiser pull up this morning.”
I flick my eyes up. Is it just me, or is she looking at me a little too casually, like maybe she already knows what’s up but is embarrassed to admit it?
The rural sprawl is like that. It looks like trees and empty space. At first it felt like peace. Now I feel the danger of hidden gazes. Of quiet watchers. When I was surrounded by girls and cameras in the Proposal mansion, at least I knew who was watching.
“Yeah, about the sheriff...” I say, trying to sound like I’m not worried at all. “Well... Josh never came home from hiking? So I reported him missing. Just as a precaution. And this morning it turns out they found Josh’s car.” It’s bizarre to hear how matter-of-fact I sound. Especially in contrast with Eden, who’s gone ramrod straight.
“And... Josh?” she says.
“No one knows.” My eyes are suddenly hot with unshed tears. I hold still, because it feels like moving even an inch will make them spill.
“Wow.” Eden runs her hands through her short black hair. “God. Wow.”
“Yeah.” I ledge my fingers under my eyes and look up, willing the tears to recede. Now is the time for pragmatism, not another meltdown.
Eden leaves the couch and comes toward me. Touches my arm. “Hey, it’ll be alright.”
“I know,” I lie, crossing my arms because her touch is starting to dissolve me when I’ve only just recovered my footing. “I just want him to be okay.”
“Um, Julia?” She withdraws her hand. “If you need... I don’t know. Like, an alibi or anything? I can vouch for you Saturday night.”
An unexpected flash of anger stabs my chest. Alibi? Why is everyone so keen to imagine not just that there’s been a crime, but that I’m a suspect? And why Saturday night? Josh texted Sunday morning, so clearly he was still alive and well then. The sentiment is nice, I coach myself. Eden is on your side. Not all hidden gazes are hostile.
“Thanks,” I finally say. I think it sounds sincere. In any case, the anger is doused. I shoulder my bag. “I’d better get going.”
Eden follows me toward the foyer. “I remember seeing Josh leave for his trip.”
I force myself to murmur a neutral acknowledgment as I slip on my shoes.
“I think it was around...six?” she adds. “And I smoked some weed in the woods.” She’s talking faster now, like she’s trying to shoot it all out before I get away. “You can kind of see into your house from back there, you know? Especially at night when you have the lights on. I definitely saw you moving around the kitchen or whatever, and then a guy stopped by.”
“Yeah. My friend Andy.” I open the front door, step outside. The birds are singing and I can already feel that blush of warmth that’s coming in on the heels of the fresh, sharp spring morning.
“He was here for, what, under an hour?” Eden follows me across the scraggly yard, to where my car is parked in front of the house on a strip of gravel. I’ve tried to make the yard nice, but like everything else in Indiana, it’s fought me every inch.
“Maybe?” I make a regretful expression as I unlock the car. “Honestly, I had way too much wine. By the time Andy was over, I was so drunk.” I hesitate as feelings of guilt threaten to crowd me. “Sorry, that’s probably TMI. And don’t worry. Pump and dump.” The last thing I need is someone questioning my parenting.
“It’s all good,” says Eden.
But despite all the wine I never should have drunk, suddenly I remember what I said to Andy, a flare amid the haze.
We keep fighting about you. The kind of confession I never would have made sober. Not even to Andy.
Like that single memory has flipped on a light and I can finally look around the room, I’m now remembering how motionless Andy went. Didn’t he? Yes...like someone caught.