Page 83 of What Goes Around

“One for Ashley,” she said absently. “Apple, come here. This one would really show off your waist.”

Apple preened in front of the mirror.

“Does it make my butt look full?”

Marissa smiled indulgently.

“Men like curves, sweetheart. You’ve got a woman’s figure.”

I wondered, briefly, what it must be like to grow up convinced your body was currency.

Thirty minutes later Apple vanished into a fitting room with an armful of dresses, leaving Marissa and me alone.

I touched the sleeve of a jacket like my attention was elsewhere.

“Oh,” I said lightly, “I almost forgot… I need something for school.”

Marissa glanced up. “For what?”

“Psychology,” I replied. “We’re starting a project on early childhood bonding and attachment styles. We’re supposed to use our own family as a case study.”

She turned back to the rack more carefully than necessary.

“We’re supposed to bring family material. Baby photos. That kind of thing.” I smiled faintly. “I found some of mine last night.”

Her fingers curled subtly around her bag strap.

“I noticed something strange, though,” I added casually. “You’re barely in any of them.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“In most of the pictures, it’s just me. Or me and Dad. The first one where you’re clearly there, I think I was already walking. Like a year old.”

Silence.

Apple laughed from the fitting room. “Mom probably just hated being in photos.”

Marissa managed a smile.

“I was tired,” she said. “First baby, you know how it is.”

“Sure.” I nodded, then added gently, “And Apple’s photos too.”

Marissa turned.

“There aren’t any hospital pictures of her,” I said mildly. “Not one. Weren’t there incubator photos? Medical bracelets? Anything from when she was born premature?”

Her expression tightened.

Apple poked her head out of the curtain. “Mom hates hospitals.”

“I just thought it was odd,” I said, tilting my head. “All her first pictures are already at home. Normal-sized. Pink. Healthy-looking. She doesn’t really look premature at all.”

Silence stretched between racks.

Then Marissa drew a sharp breath.

“That was a terrifying time,” she said softly. “I couldn’t stand seeing her like that. With wires and tubes. I didn’t want to remember her that way.”