21. Beth

I've always wanted Dad to write back to me and now that he has—I wish he hadn't. I'm not sure why I ever thought I needed his words to begin with. Everything he had to say, he said when he walked out of our lives seven years ago. Michael sits on the other end of the couch with a fresh beer in hand, rotating it as if he's actually reading the label. I'm not sure if he usually drinks this much or if this is out of the ordinary for him. But then again, grief is like an airport. There are no rules or social norms. You just do what you gotta do to pass the time until you reach your next destination. Nicole clutches my phone in her hand. Her brows are knitted together as she rereads the email over and over again.

"Why would he write you now after all these years?" she asks.

"Because Mom passed," I say. That had to be the only reason why he'd choose to respond now. All of my other emails went unanswered.

Michael lifts his beer bottle and swigs. "Or he knew we found out."

"How?" I look to Michael and then Nicole.

She lifts her head. "Maybe he thought Mom told us."

I swallow hard as my mother's words return to me. Your father. He didn't disappear. Don't trust...

Michael raises a brow. "Mom didn't say anything to you before she passed, did she?" He's staring at me.

Nicole is too now.

"No," I lie again. I don't know why I don't just come out and tell them. But they weren't here. They knew she was dying, and they still didn't come, so they don't deserve Mom's last words.

A line from Dad's email jumps to the front of my mind. I'm closer than you think I am.

It's creepy. Or maybe it isn't? I don't know. The police figured he fled to Mexico given where his truck was found—a little over ten miles from the border. Now I'm not so sure. Mom's words echo in my head. He didn't disappear. And then Dad's. I'm closer than you think I am. Maybe she knew he'd reach out after she passed. Maybe Mom was the one that kept him away.

I try to think back to when he left. I remember Mom coming to terms with the fact that he was gone rather quickly. She always tried to get me to stop looking for him and would say things like, If he wanted to be here, he would. It wasn't like when Emma went missing. Susan, Eddie, and Lucas held out hope that she would return. They never stopped looking for her. But Mom stopped looking for Dad. Maybe because she knew exactly where he was this whole time, and she wanted him to stay there.

My eyes dart between Michael and Nicole again.

"She did say one thing." The words fall out of my mouth. I only say it because I don't think I can figure it out on my own. Perhaps they can help solve Mom's riddle and Dad's cryptic email. Michael's smart. He's always been the brains of the family. And Nicole sees things through a different lens, like the world is presented uniquely to her. If I put an apple in front of her face and asked her to describe it, she wouldn't say it was red or shiny or round. She'd tell me about its natural wax, the layer of protection that slows down its decay. She'd point out a weak spot, perhaps discoloration or a bruised, mushy area caused by impact or too much compression. By the end, she wouldn't even be describing the apple anymore.

Michael leans forward in his seat, squaring up with me in a way. "What did she tell you?"

Nicole purses her lips, holding in the words she clearly wants to yell at me. She crosses one leg over the other and bounces her foot, showing how little patience she has for me. They're waiting for me to say more, to admit that I lied to them, and to reveal what exactly I lied to them about. This undercurrent is why we can't trust each other.

"She said Dad didn't disappear." I leave out the Don't trust part, and I don't know why I do. Maybe I want to keep it for myself. Something just for me. Or maybe I don't want to lose hope that my dad is a good man.

"Why wouldn't you tell us that?" Michael scoffs. "What else did she say?"

"Nothing. That was it," I lie again. The more you lie the easier it becomes.

Nicole tilts her head in an accusatory way. "How do we know you're telling the truth?" She's good at catching a lie, because she does it all the time... lying, I mean.

"Why would I?"

She shoots a glare at me. "Why would you lie about Mom saying something to you in the first place?"

"I... I don't know. I just didn't understand what Mom meant, so I thought it was nothing." My words come out choppy and unconvincing.

I always knew it was meaningful. People don't use their last breaths on worthless words.

Michael leans back in his seat and sips his beer. "Well, clearly it meant something." He appears nonchalant but I can practically see his brain working overtime, trying to put the pieces together.

Nicole squints in concentration. She wants to be the one that figures this out. When you have nothing, you have everything to prove.

"Yeah, but what?" I ask. "With the email from Dad, it seems like she was warning me... like she knew he'd come back."

"Wait, can't you track an email?" Nicole asks. "Like an IP address or something?" She glances at me, but I don't have the answer. And then we both look at Michael.

"Sometimes, yeah," he says.

"Well, do that. His email said he's closer than we think." Nicole practically jumps from her seat.

Michael furrows his brow. "And what, we're just supposed to go find him?"

"Why not? I mean, if he's close, we may as well." Nicole hands the phone to him.

Don't trust...Do I tell them Mom's warning? No, I can't. I don't know who she was referring to. Don't trust Dad? Don't trust anyone? I've already lied to them twice. I can't just be like, Well, Mom actually said a little more, so I keep my mouth shut. They're not going to find him anyway. I spent years searching, turning over every rock, and still came up empty-handed.

"Please," Nicole begs. Her eyes develop a sheen.

Michael looks to me, but I offer nothing. His gaze falls on Nicole. She's good at getting her way, and he's not used to telling her no. It took me years to finally say no to her because saying that to an addict takes practice. Finally, he lets out a huff and gets up from his seat, heading toward the hallway.

"Where are you going?" she calls after him.

"I'm getting my laptop."

Her face lights up. I knew he wouldn't be able to say no to her, though I think he should have. False hope is the worst kind of hope.

"I can't believe it. I can't believe we're close to finding Dad," she says.

I can't believe it either, because I know it can't be true.

"Yeah," is all I'm able to muster up.

"Aren't you excited or at least relieved?" she asks.

"Even if we did find him, it wouldn't change anything."

"But he could tell us what happened to Emma, and he could be in our lives again."

"But what if...?" I pause, not wanting to say the words but feeling I need to, especially with Mom's warning rolling around my brain like a ball in a pinball machine. "What if he's dangerous?"

She snaps her head back, and her eyes go wide. "How could you even think that?"

"Because he's been gone a long time, and I don't know him anymore. The dad I knew wouldn't walk out on Mom after over thirty years of marriage. He wouldn't walk out on his kids. He wouldn't not be in his granddaughter's life. He wouldn't show up after seven years via a fucking cryptic email. I don't know who sent that email, but it didn't come from the dad I knew."

Nicole's eyes well up. "You give up on people so easily."

I know she's not talking about Dad.

Before I can respond and yell at her and ask her how dare she say something like that to me, Michael walks into the living room with his laptop in hand. I was the one that was there for Nicole. I gave her money. I gave her food. I gave her clothes. And I gave her a place to stay until I couldn't trust sleeping under the same roof as her anymore.

He pauses for a moment. "Am I interrupting something?"

I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head.

"No, just see if you can find out where the email was sent from," Nicole says.

Michael takes a seat and flips open his laptop. "Forward the email to me," he says, and then he rattles off his email address.

Nicole presses several buttons on my phone. "Done." She tosses it back to me. Her eyes have lost their sheen and are now clouded with a mix of anger and hope. The former directed at me.

The problem with Nicole is she doesn't remember the past seven or so years. For her, it's like Dad left yesterday because her addiction has stolen so many of her memories. I noticed it first... the addiction. She was prescribed oxycodone after getting into a car accident back in 2015. The sad thing is, she was driving around looking for Dad when it happened. Another car T-boned her, leaving her in critical condition, and she spent nearly a year healing via meds, physical therapy, and hope. But when the pain finally went away, the addiction took its place. She convinced the doctor her body still needed the meds, but really it was her brain that craved them.

Michael's fingers are fast and furious as they tap against the keyboard. I'm sure Nicole and I have melted away as he's laser-focused on his computer screen. Nicole stares, waiting for the answer to the question she's been asking herself for years. Where's Dad?

"Got it," Michael finally says, lifting his head.

"Where is he?" Nicole asks. She's ready to run out the door and find our missing father.

"Juda, Wisconsin. About an hour west of here."

"Can you tell exactly where he sent it from?" Her eyes seem to brighten.

"Not always, but I pulled the latitude and longitude for the IP address and cross-checked it with Google Maps; there's only one house within a three-mile radius, so it's gotta be that one, and it was sent via a private internet connection."

Nicole tilts her head. "What's that mean?"

"Meaning he wasn't at a Starbucks or a library or some other business."

"Let's go then. Let's find him." She smiles, like Dad's location is "X marks the spot" on a treasure map. I feel so sorry for her. Even if she finds him, finds exactly what she's looking for, he won't be the father she remembers. He just can't be.

Michael looks to me. I think he's expecting me to be on board, to jump for joy like Nicole practically is, but I'm not. Dad has disappointed me far too many times, and I can't do it anymore.

"I'm not going," I say.

Her smile fades and a scowl replaces it. "What do you mean you're not going?"

"I mean I'm not going."

"Don't you want to find him?" Nicole eyes me cautiously.

"No, I don't."

"Why?" she asks.

"I just don't." I'm not going to explain myself to her because she wouldn't understand anyway.

She shakes her head, as if I'll change my mind and jump up and join her, but I won't. I lost everything looking for him. Even though there's nothing else for me to lose, I'm not willing to gamble it for a sliver of hope. She looks to Michael. He raises his shoulders slightly and drops them, a weak shrug.

"Michael?" she says. Her voice is meek and soft.

He closes his laptop, pausing before he answers. I don't think either of us know what he's going to say. He's always held his cards close. "All right, I'll drive."

Her lips curve into a smile, and she bolts toward the front door. It brings me back to when we were kids and Mom would call out, "Dad's home," on Friday nights. We'd be so excited, and we'd all come running to greet him. Only one of us is running to him now, and that's only because she's running away from everything else.

Michael stands from his seat and tilts his chin. "Are you sure you don't want to come, Beth?"

"I'm sure," I say. "But I do hope you find him."

"Will you be fine here on your own? Given the break-in..." His eyes scan the living room and then land back on me.

"Yeah."

Michael nods, accepting my answer. I can't tell if he's disappointed in my response, if he understands it, or if he's happy that I took a stance. He leaves the house without another word. And that silence is exactly what I need.