What a Mother Knows

by Leslie Lehr

  Dim light filtered through the front window blinds. Stripes marked the bare mattress. Michelle flipped on the ceiling light. The bulb popped and went dark, but the buttercup walls still glowed. This pale yellow paint was the only thing she and Nikki had agreed on after they’d torn down the bunny wallpaper. Nikki’s walls were bare of posters now, but her old blanket was folded on the end of the dusty trundle bed.

  Michelle picked up the blanket and rubbed the frayed fabric against her cheek. It had been a gift from her film crew a few days before Nikki’s birth. After staying home for twelve weeks, Michelle had hired a babysitter and packed her briefcase for a production job wrapping another movie. She ended up wrapping her baby in this blanket instead.

  Growing up in the Midwest, Michelle had seen her share of tornadoes ushered in by green skies of warning. But when she awoke to the cacophony of furniture crashing to the floors, there was no mistaking the neon sign flashing in her head: earthquake.

  Michelle scooped up the baby and staggered across floors that were bouncing up and down between walls that were moving side to side, like the rope bridge of a fun house. Just as suddenly, it all stopped. The power went out. Time slowed like an intravenous drip. In the eerie silence, she sat in the front hall, haunted by a high-pitched hum from the earth until the dogs howled and the house shuddered again. In the darkness, through endless aftershocks, Michelle kept Nikki wrapped in that blanket, safe in her arms.

  At dawn, she carried her baby around the rubble and climbed over the upside down dresser back to her bed. That evening, when the sun hid behind the black smoke, Michelle nursed Nikki to sleep by candlelight. Then she lay, fully dressed and rigid with fear, as fire trucks blared past. No power, no plumbing, no phone service—and the baby didn’t get so much as a cut from all the glass on the floor. The next day, Michelle found her briefcase and unpacked it. That show would go on, but without her.

  Michelle turned to survey the room. A new crack rose from the corner of the window frame and spread a foot across the wall. The plaster buckled in spots, as if reluctant to let go. “Settling,” the local realtors called it, a natural phenomenon that was as much of a surprise to new homeowners as the reality of parenthood was to new mothers. She gave up the long hours of production for a desk job close to home, but as Nikki grew, so did the job of protecting her. And now it seemed that everything Michelle had done was for nothing.

  A few minutes passed, or maybe an hour. Michelle shook herself awake and surveyed the dusty room. It was like a magazine puzzle: what is wrong with this picture? Nikki’s white dresser and desk were still here, but the drawers were empty. Storage boxes were stacked in the corner. Michelle stepped slowly across the room to find the seams of the top box taped shut. She backed against the wall and braced her feet to get leverage. She tugged at the tape with her left hand, but the box shifted. When she shoved it back with her shoulder, the box toppled to the floor and took her with it. She listened for a moment to be sure Tyler hadn’t heard the crash from his room. Thank goodness for headphones.

  Michelle spied Nikki’s little bookshelf behind the door. She rolled over to her knees and crept closer. The particleboard was plastered with stickers ranging from My Little Pony to a Skull & Crossbones sneaker logo. A forgotten ball of knitting yarn was wedged behind the bottom shelf. Michelle used it to dust off the plastic snow globes Drew had brought home from location jobs, then the spines of books ranging from The Tell-Tale Heart to The Runaway Bunny. She pulled out the picture book and flipped through the scribbled-on pages. No matter how far the little bunny ran away, the mother vowed to find him. Michelle put the book back and wiped her eyes. “For you are my little bunny.”

  The top shelf was empty except for a jewelry box with a ballerina that twirled when she opened it. Inside, there were two pennies, a purple pen, and one dangling disco ball earring. Nikki always used purple ink, much to the consternation of certain English teachers. Michelle smiled at her daughter’s independent streak, despite the trouble it caused. Her knees were getting stiff, so she took the earring and stood up. The tiny mirrors caught a shaft of light from the hallway and reflected sparkles on the walls. Michelle’s eyes widened to take it all in—the room seemed to be alight with fireflies. That must be why Nikki had kept it. She wasn’t big on jewelry.

  Michelle wanted more sparkles, more fireflies, more of Nikki, so she pulled the drawstring to open the blinds. Beneath the window, she spotted one of Nikki’s posters jammed between the bed and the wall. Michelle couldn’t lean very far without losing her balance, so when she grabbed it, the corner ripped off. The rest of the shiny paper slipped from sight. Michelle held up the corner, but could only read part of the band’s name: house. Playhouse? Dollhouse? Michelle had been quite the rocker in her day, but gave up when it came to the kids’ music. Tyler was into hip-hop, but Nikki preferred obscure indie bands she found on the Internet. This must have been one of them. It seemed vaguely familiar, but then, everything did.

  Headlights lit the window as Drew pulled up. She closed the blinds.

  A few minutes later, he leaned in the doorway. “I saw you.”

  “I wasn’t hiding. It’s my house, too.” Her nose twitched at the reek of cigarette smoke, but she let it go. “Will you open those boxes for me?”

  “Not today. I picked up your Xanax. Take one and get some rest.”

  Michelle shook her head. “It just doesn’t make sense, Drew. I left her a message last week that I was leaving the hospital and couldn’t wait to see her. There’s no reason for her to be upset anymore.”

  “You hungry?” Drew asked. “I got three flavors of applesauce.”

  “Stop changing the subject. I’ve been eating solid food for months—and I can smell the burgers you brought home.”

  “Your discharge papers say to go easy on the digestion. Those are Animal Style with extra dressing and onions—a far cry from hospital food. Want me to go back for a plain one?”

  “No, stay.” Tyler was coughing in the other room. Drew went to the door. “Wait, I still don’t get why she didn’t come home.” He didn’t turn around. “If it’s not about my injuries, what else could it be? People have car accidents all the time—and Topanga is notorious for being dangerous. Nikki used to complain how long it took to drive the ten miles to the beach. I know I’m foggy on the details, but…”

  Drew turned around slowly. Too slowly.

  She was beginning to feel nauseous.

  “There was more to the accident than you know,” he admitted.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You might want to sit down.” Drew pointed to Nikki’s trundle bed.

  Michelle held her ground.

  Drew took a deep breath. “The accident happened after one of Tyler’s games. There was a boy in the car with you. He was killed.”

  Michelle froze. This couldn’t be true. Why was he looking at her like that? A boy was dead? She tasted bile and swallowed it down. She reached out to Drew and her whole body jerked with pain. Wrong arm. “No,” she wailed. The room started to spin.

  He helped her to the trundle bed and sat beside her. When the stars cleared, she thought of all the times she had driven boys home. Michelle hardly understood what it meant for anyone’s life to end, but for someone so young…“Who was it? A teammate?”

  Drew shook his head. “Noah Butler.”

  She thought for a minute, then remembered the lanky college student. “Tyler’s pitching coach?” He nodded.

  “Oh my god.”

  A few minutes ago, she’d feared the worst for her daughter and it was unbearable. Now this—it was hard to comprehend. She took a deep breath and tried to connect the pieces. “Could this have anything to do with Nikki running away?”

  Drew shrugged. “There was some innuendo that might have embarrassed her.”

  “Innuendo?”

  “I was out of town, so—you might have been lonely. And you were an attractive woman in a car alone with a nineteen-year-old, a good-looking colle
ge kid with a band.” He stood up and crossed his arms.

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  “No.”

  “But you believe that?”

  “No, but things had been strained between us, so it was awkward. And some people blame you for Noah’s death.”

  “Because I was driving?”

  “Yes.”

  Michelle couldn’t fathom Nikki’s embarrassment. “Does Lexi know?”

  “How could she not? It was in all the newspapers.”

  Michelle covered her face with her hand. “That explains why we were so cloistered at the hospital. But…”

  Drew’s phone rang. He checked the number, but didn’t answer. When the screen went dark, so did the room.

  “This light needs a new bulb.”

  Drew tested the switch. “Forget it. Moping around in here will only upset you.”

  “Right. Nikki is missing and Tyler’s pitching coach is dead, but an empty room will upset me.” She stood up, fueled by anger.

  “See what I mean?”

  Michelle kicked the dented corner of the fallen box. “Do we have scissors?”

  Drew heaved the box back on the stack in the corner, then rubbed his lower back. “Forget it. I’ve been through her things. Who do you think packed these?”

  “But why? What if she comes home?”

  “That’s why I kept the bed. But it was creepy seeing her T-shirts piled on the floor where she left them.”

  Michelle leaned against him. He put his arm around her.

  Tyler coughed again.

  “I need to give him the inhaler,” Drew said, walking her out. He took the bags he’d left on the hall table into the kitchen, where Tyler had the refrigerator door open.

  He held up the plastic-wrapped piece of cake saved for Nikki. “Okay if I eat this?”

  “No,” Michelle snapped.

  Tyler eyed his father and put it back. “Dad, can I go to Cody’s? I need to practice for the game—and his mom’s making stroganoff. I can walk over.”

  Michelle felt bad. “I’m sorry, Tyler, I didn’t mean…”

  “Go ahead,” Drew interrupted, tearing open the pharmacy bag. “I don’t blame you for being sick of burgers. Take this with you.”

  “Thanks,” Tyler said. He pocketed the inhaler, kissed Michelle, and started heading out.

  Michelle followed him to the foyer. “But, don’t you want to have a family dinner?” She winced at how lame that sounded, especially with Nikki missing. And someone dead. Noah Butler dead. It was a long time ago now, though, and she wondered how Tyler felt about it. Was he over it? Did he blame her? She was afraid to ask and risk upsetting him. She wanted to say something, to hold him and make it better, but she didn’t know how to do that, or if it was even possible. She hated feeling so helpless.

  “Be home by ten,” Drew told him.

  Tyler’s phone buzzed. He read the text before walking out and closing the front door behind him.

  Michelle wondered what happened to her own phone. Was it lost in the wreckage with her wallet? And her wedding ring? When Drew took the other bag to the counter, she noticed that his hand was bare, too. “What happened to your ring?”

  “Got caught on scaffolding when I was hanging mikes. Nearly ripped off my finger.”

  “Ouch,” Michelle said.

  He glanced at her withered right hand and shrugged. Then he put the last grocery bag away. She watched him, conscious of every movement, as if they were acting in a play, reading lines someone else had written. He brought paper plates to the table with the In-N-Out bag, then set out the prescription bottle like a condiment. “Want Tyler’s shake?”

  She sat back down at the dinette while he grabbed a beer from the fridge. He pushed the vanilla shake toward her, then unwrapped his double burger and dumped a haystack of fries beside it. The shake reminded her too much of the protein drinks that she’d grown to hate at the rehab center. She stole a french fry, which tasted a lot saltier than she remembered. She consoled herself that this was like a second date with her husband—if only she were in the mood. All the hope she had yesterday was gone. She could say words out loud and swallow bits of potato, but all the while, a dead boy hovered in her thoughts. Maybe he always would.

  She eyed the prescription bottle. The promise of relief was tempting. She had no idea what had happened, and even if she did, she could never bring Noah back. But she could try to find her daughter. And she needed to be clearheaded to do that.

  She took a deep breath and pulled the dangling disco ball earring from her pocket. The mirrors reflected sparkling light across Drew’s hamburger.

  “What’s that?”

  Michelle hesitated, surprised that he didn’t recognize it. “An earring from Nikki’s jewelry box. It doesn’t look familiar?”

  “She didn’t wear earrings,” Drew said. “Remember how mad she was when I gave her the sapphire studs? You said it was the September birthstone.”

  “It is,” Michelle said, toying with the clip. “But she was so proud about being natural—no pierced ears, no tattoos. She was disappointed you didn’t notice. If she were here, she’d be eating a cheeseburger without the burger. Hold the lettuce and tomato.”

  “Right. A vegetarian who doesn’t like vegetables. Except in the form of ketchup.” Drew squeezed a packet of red goop over his fries.

  “Remember the night she announced it?” Michelle said, pleased to reminisce. “We were having your favorite Sunday dinner, pork chops and mashed potatoes, and you complained that she didn’t appreciate it. Then she fell off her chair.”

  Drew frowned. “She did that on purpose, to change the subject.”

  “No, she didn’t. She’d get so excited talking about something and she’d be swinging her leg and—boom. On the floor.” Michelle nearly smiled. “Always cracked Tyler up.”

  “Maybe that’s why she did it. For attention.”

  “No.” Michelle shook her head. He had it all wrong. Nikki was shy, always had been. Even at preschool, when Michelle dropped Nikki off at the gate, she hung back from the children shouting hello. The Greta Garbo of the play yard, her teacher teased. No wonder Drew hadn’t found Nikki—he was out of town so much that he hardly knew her. In a way, that gave Michelle hope. She clipped the disco ball earring on a tall orchid branch.

  “Where is the filing cabinet? Maybe there’s something in her old class rosters. Or her debit card statements.”

  Drew cut her off. “There’s not. I left the house files here, but everything else is in New York.” His eyes met hers, as if in apology. For a moment, they let the sadness surround them.

  Michelle held the look, wishing he would put his arms around her. Instead, he plucked Variety off the stack of trade magazines he’d bought at the store. “You mind?”

  “Can I look, too? I went from flash cards to large print books, as if the outside world didn’t exist. But don’t you read the news online?”

  “There’s no Internet service here.”

  “No wonder Tyler doesn’t want to stick around. Will you order it?”

  “You don’t need it, Michelle. Rest and do your exercises.”

  “I will, but Nikki’s high school directory was online. And kids she knew on Facebook.” She tried to sound calm, but it was impossible.

  “Private detectives did all that.”

  “So, I’ll do it again,” Michelle said. “She’s just a name to them. Please, Drew. The Internet company will want a credit card and I don’t even have a purse!”

  Drew’s phone rang. He got up and fetched another beer while answering, as if relieved to get a break from her questions. “Hey Tyler. No, you have to sleep here. I need a ride to LAX in the morning.” He hung up. When he shut the refrigerator door, he saw Michelle’s frown and swore under his breath.

  “You’re kidding, right? Don’t you dare say you’re leaving.”

  “I’m sorry, Michelle. I have to go back to New York. I meant to tell you.”

  “Like you meant
to tell me my daughter is missing?”

  “Our daughter.”

  “Is that how you justify lying about her? And poor Noah? When were you going to tell me about leaving, Drew? In a postcard?”

  “Calm down, honey. I blew off two commercials to be here when you got home, but this is a feature. My assistant has done most of the prep, but if I don’t set the sound cues myself, they’ll replace me and I’ll be out months of work.”

  Michelle hugged her bad arm. “I just got home. We’ve barely had any time together. The director will understand!”

  “No, he’s a prick. Won’t even pay my kit rental. But he works a lot and I’m his first call.” Drew chugged the rest of his beer. “Don’t worry, your mother is flying in to take care of you.”

  Michelle gave him a dirty look, already dreading the heavy perfume that clogged the air during her mother’s hospital visits. All that time, Elyse must have known the truth, and she didn’t say a word.

  “I know you two have issues, but she means well,” Drew said. “And I hired Lexi to come by every week to help.”

  “I don’t need help. I need you.”

  He tossed his beer in the trash and took her hand. “We need this job, honey. I took out a second mortgage to pay your hospital bills. You want to lose the house?”

  “No, of course not, but…What about Nikki?”

  “Michelle, when I said everyone has been out looking for her, I meant it.”

  “That doesn’t mean we should stop.” She poked at the mirrored ball hanging from the orchid until the reflections spun like Drew’s words in her head. Then she yanked it free and threw the earring across the room. She burst into tears. Drew touched her cheek, but she stumbled to the hallway to get away from him, away from the truth that he had known all along.

  Bella whined outside the French doors when he saw her across the room. Dizzy, Michelle leaned against the wall in the foyer and looked at the family portrait. Drew had hated the idea of family portraits, found it hopelessly bourgeois. But he’d grinned like a good sport that day on the beach, with his arm around Michelle’s shoulders. Tyler’s white polo shirt was already dirty, but his smile was goofy and sweet. In this larger version, Nikki’s fingers had been airbrushed from where she made bunny ears over her brother’s head. She smiled with her lips closed over her braces, but her brown eyes were as wide as could be.