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The question fades on the cold air as Rhett grabs his plastic bag of belongings and slips out of the Jeep.
Streetlights flicker on above us.
“Where are you going?”
Rhett doesn’t answer. Instead, he steps onto the sidewalk, dips his head and descends into the shadows.
I watch his monstruous frame in my review mirror until his silhouette fades under the blinking lights of the pool hall.
He’s going to Benji’s Pool Hall, the place where Jesse received the letters from the masked man.
My eyes narrow. What is he up to?
I tap the brakes, my thumb drumming against the steering wheel.
Rhett Cohen might have a meeting with his parole officer but there is more on his agenda than just that—things that he doesn’t want me to be a part of.
19
Marjorie
The day Anna died was like any other. Although I suppose that’s how all deaths start. You never really know when someone is going to die. There is no announcement, no preparation, no warning. It just happens and then you’re left to pick up the pieces and figure out your new place in the world. The new you, minus the one who died.
It was summer. July 14thto be exact. I’d taken both girls to the city pool to escape the brutal heatwave. Despite her fear of water, Anna loved going to the pool because she had a crush on the lifeguard, though she would never admit to this. Anna, age twelve at the time, had just begun to look at boys differently. With interest and curiosity. Sylvia, on the other hand, still hated them.
Both girls had new swimsuits. A spur-of-the-moment purchase when I saw they were fifty percent off. Anna’s was red, Sylvia’s was blue. Sylvia complained about hers.
The pool was incredibly crowded that day. The heat, I guess. So much so, I remember thinking I was surprised it wasn’t closed due to maximum capacity. Regardless, I’d lucked out and found two lounge chairs in the back corner, in the shade.
I remember thinking how blue the sky was that day. Electric blue. Not a single cloud anywhere in sight. I planned to use this time to work on the cookbook I was putting together. Nothing formal, just something to record my recipes so that the girls would have something to remember me when they were raising their own families. A different memory of me. A good one.
Sylvia took to the water immediately, diving straight into the deep end. Anna asked if she could dangle her feet in the shallow end. I grinned and winked and said yes. I knew the only reason she wanted to do this was because she wanted to show off her new suit to the handsome lifeguard. Nick, his name was. Funny I remember that. While she walked away, I reminded her, “chin up, shoulders back.” She turned and smiled the biggest, prettiest smile. It’s something I would say to Anna every day. I wanted her to have the confidence I never did.
I remember watching her walk away and wondering how I got so lucky. I took in her tall, skinny silhouette. In a few years she’d get her period, become a woman, find interests beyond our home. I felt a pang in my chest. I wanted her to stay young. To stay mine.
If I could only go back to that moment. If only I could. I would’ve said no, that she couldn’t go near the water. I would’ve said no when Sylvia asked if we could go to the pool. Or I would’ve gone into the water with Anna, held her hand, and inhaled at the exact moment she did, so that we could have died together.
I remember looking up from the notebook I was scribbling recipes in—how stupid of me, how not important— and not seeing Anna sitting by the shallow end. I sat up and frantically looked around. Anna can’t swim, the words pummeled through my brain.
And then I saw Sylvia, in her bright blue swimsuit, staring down into the water. Her hands were clasped behind her back, a weird, almost confused expression on her face.
I knew in that moment that something was wrong.
I screamed Anna’s name as I sprinted to Sylvia.
I remember looking into the water, at Anna’s body, hovering just above the bottom of the pool, the shape of it contorted by the waves. Her arms were drifting lazily by her side, her hair like snakes slithering around her face, her legs lifeless.
The next memory I have is staring down at her body as the lifeguard administered CPR.
I remember thinking that the last monumental memory Anna will ever have of me is my hand connecting with her cheek the night before.
20
Sylvia
Two days have passed since I watched Rhett disappear under the blinking lights of Benji’s Pool Hall. I have received no calls or information from Detective Stroud or Officer Marino regarding the mysterious half-print found on my mother’s pendant. It’s like everything just stopped.
It makes me crazy.
