36. Beth

Mom's funeral was yesterday, and I think it'll always feel like it was only a day ago. That's how Dad's disappearance still feels: like it was yesterday. The moments that change us forever always feel recent, because we carry them with us whether we want to or not. I tape up a box marked Donations and set it in a stack with the others. The house is quiet, not peaceful, just quiet. Michael and Nicole left for Beloit about twenty minutes ago. She was getting shaky and needed her methadone treatment. If she went another day without it, I worry she'd relapse. I know she's been skipping days, trying to get clean faster, but it's only making things worse.

I get to my feet and survey the living room. It's all neatly packed away in boxes. We've gone through everything except the kitchen. I still have to decide on the furniture and the house. The more I've thought about it, the more I'm leaning toward selling it to Michael. He did offer well-above market value (I checked), and that money would be life-changing for me. I could pay off debt and visit my daughter in person instead of playing phone tag with her endlessly, always losing. And Nicole would have a place to live—although, I don't think it would make her any less of an addict. As much as I don't want Michael to get his way, I've realized that resenting him won't help me. Resentment only poisons the person who consumes it, not the one it's intended for. Michael and I are proof of that.

Knuckles rap against the front door. I get to my feet and make my way to it.

"Hey," I say, pushing the squeaky door open.

Lucas stands on the porch, holding a bouquet of yellow roses and wearing a faint smile. "These are for you."

I take the flowers from him and bring them to my nose, inhaling their bright scent.

"Thanks. Come in," I say, moving aside for him to enter.

He hesitates before crossing the threshold. Lucas hasn't been inside this house since he was eighteen. It must feel like stepping back in time. As I pull a vase from an open box and fill it with water, he kicks off his boots at the door. My eyes keep going to him while I unwrap the flowers and snip the ends.

Lucas walks into the kitchen and glances around, taking in his surroundings. The way his eyes bounce to every corner, to the ceiling, to the floor, it's like he's standing in a museum rather than my childhood home. I arrange the yellow roses in the vase and set them on the kitchen table. They seem out of place, at least to me. We lock eyes, and I wonder how I ever looked away from him to begin with. He looks a little rough, and I can tell he hasn't slept well. But he's still handsome to me. My fingers tingle as I imagine running them through his soft, scruffy facial hair, over his broad shoulders and down his firm pecs. I wonder if his fingers are tingling too, just at the thought of grazing them along my skin. Or am I the only one having these thoughts?

"How was the rest of the funeral?" he asks, delivering a sympathetic look. His hands grip the back of the kitchen chair in front of him.

"It was how she wanted it."

He slightly nods. "Sorry about my mom..."

"There's no need to apologize," I interrupt.

My eyes flick behind him to the VHS tape set on the VCR in the living room. It sits there, so unassuming. It's the only thing I didn't pack up. I just couldn't bring myself to. How do you pack up a secret like that? I force myself to look away, and my eyes land back on Lucas before he notices my split attention.

"Where are your siblings?"

"They went into town," I say, not offering any further explanation.

He nods, glancing around again, almost like he's looking for something. "It's kind of weird being in this house."

"I bet. It's been a while," I say as I walk into the living room and push around a few boxes. I don't know what to do with myself or how to act around him... especially with that VHS tape staring at me.

He follows me and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "It feels like both yesterday and a lifetime ago." Lucas tilts his head. "It's funny how time works. They say it's linear but sometimes it feels like it's happening all at once. Ya know?"

"I know exactly what you mean," I say.

My eyes go to the tape again. If I played it for him, he'd be transported back to 1999 and finally, after all this time, he'd know exactly what happened to his sister. The past and present unfolding and happening all at once.

"Can I get a tour?" he asks, pulling me back to the now.

There's a small smile on his face, and I force myself to return it. "Sure. A lot has changed since you were last here."

"Really?"

"No," I tease. Our smiles grow just a half inch or so.

The tour is short, as the house isn't large by any means, and now we're standing in my bedroom, and it feels like we're sixteen again. The walls are bare now, and all that's left from my childhood is a bed, a dresser, and a desk. My suitcase sits open in the corner, which is what I've been living out of for a few months. Pencil markings on the door illustrate Lucas's and my heights. When we first started dating, we were basically the same height, but he shot up over a foot our sophomore year, and I stopped growing after that. My eyes go to the window and I remember all the times he snuck in and out of it. I wonder if that's what he's thinking about. He scans the room, not saying anything, but the corners of his mouth curve up, then straighten out before curving again. Waves of fond memories crashing against the shore of a much bleaker present day.

"Do you ever think about us?" he asks. His Adam's apple bobs as though he meant to swallow that question but uttered it instead.

"All the time," I say. I haven't told the truth in a while, and my words surprise me. I'm also not usually this forward. It's hard to be forward when you've been living life backward.

He inches closer to me, and we stare into each other's eyes, getting lost in them, finding our way back to one another. I used to think we were supposed to be together because he was the boy who lived across the street, but now I know geography had nothing to do with it. His hand brushes against my cheek, and it stirs every nerve in my body. I can feel him everywhere even though he's only touched one part of me.

"I missed you," I whisper, leaning my head into his hand.

"I missed you too, Beth," he whispers back.

There's nothing more to say. My heart races, pounding against my rib cage, and my mind calms for the first time in a long time when his lips meet mine. It's like I've found something I thought was lost forever. Our mouths open and close as our kiss becomes hungry. I bite his lower lip, and he moans. I remember the first time I did that to him. He responded the same way. His hands run all over my body, from my back to my breasts to beneath the waistline of my jeans. His fingers crawl past my pubic bone, eventually finding what they were looking for. I kiss him so hard that I have to pull away to come up for air.

His lips graze my ear and neck while his fingers rock inside me, leaving me panting and wanting more. Lucas pulls his hand from inside my jeans and kisses me again. His fingers curl under the hem of my shirt, and he tugs it off. I do the same to him, my nails running along his pecs and abs. We climb out of our jeans and fall onto the mattress. We could collide with pavement or loose gravel or even a floor covered in Legos, and I wouldn't care as long as it was him I was falling with.

* * *

I leave the bathroom and grab two beers from the kitchen before returning to my bedroom. Lucas slides his shirt back on and smiles at me as I stand in the doorway, watching him.

"Thirsty?" I ask, holding out a bottle of beer.

"Parched." He takes it and gulps, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Better?" I ask.

Lucas makes a refreshed sound and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Better," he says.

I take a sip while Lucas meanders over to the window, looking out at the front yard. You can even see his house from it, just barely. I remember falling asleep staring out. Knowing he was close by always brought me comfort.

"Is this a one-time thing?" he asks, turning to face me.

"I hope not."

The corners of his mouth curve up, and his blue eyes seem to brighten to the shade of the sky behind him. "I hope it's not either."

I close the distance between us and lean into him, pressing my cheek against his chest. His heart beats slow and steady, but then it starts to race.

"There's something I never told you. It's about why I broke up with you our senior year," he says, looking down at me. His face has turned serious.

I take a step back so I can see all of him. "I thought it was because you were going off to college, and I wasn't."

He shakes his head. "I would have never ended it with you over distance."

My eyes start to sting, threatening a release of tears. "Then why did you?"

"It had to do with my dad."

"I know, Lucas. I know how hard it was on you when he died, and I wanted so badly to be there for you, but you shut me out."

"I didn't shut you out because I was grieving."

"I don't understand."

"My dad's death wasn't an accident," he says.

"Yes, it was. It was a hunting accident."

"No, he committed suicide."

I shake my head, but no words come out.

"He did, Beth. He even left a note behind. My mom just hid it, and the sheriff helped make sure the cause of death was listed as accidental for life insurance purposes. He felt bad for her, and I think a bit guilty after never finding the person responsible for Emma's disappearance." Lucas lets out a sigh and hangs his head.

"I'm really sorry, but I don't understand. What does that have to do with you breaking up with me?"

He furrows his brow. "I think my dad had something to do with Emma going missing."

"What? Why would you think that?"

Lucas takes a seat on the mattress. "Because of the letter he left behind."

"What'd it say?"

"It said he couldn't forgive himself for what he'd done."

My eyes are wide, flicking between Lucas and the door... the door that leads to the hallway, the hallway that leads to the living room, the living room that contains the VHS tape, and the VHS tape that holds the truth. How could he think his dad had anything to do with Emma's death? I mean, I remember Eddie being strict and a bit short-tempered when Lucas broke his rules, like being late for curfew or talking back. Maybe that was enough for him to think the worst of his dad.

"I worried that I was like him or could be like him." He looks up at me again. "So, I broke it off with you. I figured I was doing you a favor. Protecting you."

The tears that fall from my eyes are hot and heavy, full of sadness and anger.

"Maybe he wasn't referring to Emma," I say, taking a step toward Lucas.

"What else would it be about? Plus, he killed himself on the two-year anniversary of her disappearance."

I feel sick. My heart pounds so hard, I think it might crack a rib. Sweat gathers at my hairline, and my stomach flips and twirls. I force small breaths through my nose. Inhale. Hold for four. Exhale. But no matter how I breathe, years of regret and resentment are threatening to pour out of me. You can only hold so much in before it all comes gushing out. I race to the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time before I throw up coffee, bile, and the few sips of beer I'd had. My entire body wretches. Then I feel a hand on my shoulder. He holds my hair and rubs my back, and I heave until I have nothing left inside of me. When I'm done, he leaves the bathroom so I can clean myself up.

I find Lucas in the living room, surveying the packed-up boxes... it's like he's looking for something. The VHS tape sits on top of the VCR. I wonder if he's noticed it.

I clear my throat to make my presence known. He stops inspecting my parents' belongings and whips his head in my direction, taking a step toward me. "Are you all right?" he asks.

I nod but look to the floor, unable to make eye contact. "Sorry," I say.

"Don't be. It's a hard truth to swallow. Trust me." He lets out a sigh.

It takes a few moments before I can finally look at him. It's difficult but I force myself. "I don't think it's the truth, Lucas."

He squints and tilts his head. Before he can say anything else and before I can talk myself out of telling him, I walk to the VCR and pick up the tape, flipping it over in my hand.

"What's that?" he asks.

"It's the truth of what really happened to Emma."

His eyes grow wide and his mouth parts slightly. It looks as though he's either going to scream or break down in tears, but I'm not sure which it will be.

"We found this tape when we were going through our parents' belongings. There's a short clip on here, only a minute or so in length. I don't think they ever meant to record it."

"What's on the tape, Beth?" A vein bulges on the side of his neck, and his bottom lip trembles.

"It's from June 15, 1999."

His eyes fill with tears and his mouth forms a hard line.

"Emma's on it. I don't know what happened to her, but I know my parents found her body down by the creek, and they got rid of it."

"What are you talking about, Beth?"

"Just... watch."

The tears fall fast and hard, streaming down his face and then clinging to his jawline.

He shakes his head but says, "Let me see it."

I look at the tape and nod. This might be a mistake, but I can't keep this from him, knowing that he's blamed his dad all these years and that my parents destroyed the future I should have had with Lucas.

Kneeling in front of the television, I slide the VHS tape into the VCR. It takes a moment before it clicks into place and then it makes a humming noise. Onscreen is our backyard at night. An owl hoots in the distance. The moon illuminates the tree line. The video camera scans the darkness. The branches of the trees look like hands and fingers stretching out in all directions. Lucas's breath hitches.

In the distance, my father calls out, "Laura." The camera swings to him and the screen fills with black-and-white static. I squint and take a step closer, waiting for the picture to come back onscreen. I know what happens next. My dad appears covered in blood. But it's just static. I glance over at Lucas. His eyes are narrowed but still glued to the TV screen.

Picking up the remote, I fast-forward. The tape stops and auto-ejects. I pop it back in and rewind it to the start of the dark tree line. It plays out again and as soon as my dad calls for my mom, the screen turns to static again.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" Lucas seethes. The veins throb in his neck.

"What? No!" I eject the tape and look it over. The label reads Summer '99. This is the tape. Emma was on this tape. "I swear, Lucas, it was here. Emma was on this tape. She was dead. My parents got rid of her body. They kept it from everyone." My words come out in a desperate panic.

He shuffles a few steps back, shaking his head. "You're losing it, Beth. You're really losing it."

"No, I'm not, Lucas," I cry out. "I'm telling you it was on this tape. I don't know what happened to it, but it was here, I saw it."

I glance at the tape again. It's over twenty years old, and I know they wear out. But I saw it a couple of days ago; how could it just wear out? Or maybe... it was the break-in. Maybe the only thing they took was this clip. Erased it somehow. Or the tape was damaged when I watched it over and over again. Or Nicole or Michael? They didn't want their precious reputations ruined. Before I can explain any of this, Lucas is already backing out of the living room, eyeing me like I've lost my mind, just like everyone else in his life.

"This was a mistake," he says.

My face crumbles, and the tape slips from my hands, crashing to the floor.

"No, it wasn't." I try to close the distance between us. "I love you, Lucas."

He backs away from me like he's scared of what I might do, or maybe what he might do.

"I'll always love you, Beth, but I was foolish to think we could just pick up where we left off. You're not well, and I'm not well either."

"We can get through this together this time," I plead.

Lucas doesn't argue with me. He just shakes his head, turns on his foot, and leaves the house. Saying nothing is the worst way to end everything. No chance to plea. No chance to explain that I am trying to do the right thing and give him closure. He's just... gone. My eyes go back to the VHS tape, lying on the floor of the living room. I saw it. Didn't I? I drop to my knees, letting out a howl of a cry. The pain of losing him when I thought I had him back is nearly unbearable. We can only endure so much before we can't anymore.