The Breakaway

by Michelle Davidson Argyle

  Evelyn winked at Naomi. “Everybody has to try them at least once. We’ll have you try a lot of things when we get there.” Steam from her hot chocolate drifted around her face. “Doesn’t it sound amazing?”

  Naomi nodded. She was sitting on the couch adjacent to them with a blanket pulled over her lap, her own mug of hot chocolate warm in her hands. “It does sound amazing,” she said with a sigh. She saw the sun-baked patio again, felt it hot under her bare feet, a glittering swimming pool down the hill. The cloudless sky promised her freedom, a kind she had never felt before.

  “Don’t go dreaming too fast, Evelyn,” Steve said with a short laugh. “The tenants still have six more months.”

  “I know, I know.” Evelyn glanced at him. “But she needs to know where we’re taking her.” She looked back to Naomi. “It was my grandmother’s house. I lived with her for four years starting when I was fifteen. It was after our father ....” She glanced at Eric. “After he went to prison. Eric was in college then, and when our grandmother died Eric told me to—”

  “I didn’t order you to come back here.” Eric crawled out from under the tree and wiped his hands on his jeans. “I asked you to. You wanted to go to school here, remember?” He took a cookie from a plate on the coffee table and smiled at Steve. “I’m happy you met somebody better than Mom did. Not that I would have let you marry someone like him.”

  Evelyn gave him a disapproving glare, but remained silent.

  Sipping her hot chocolate, Naomi tried to ignore the tension in the air. Her mouth tasted like garlic from Evelyn’s roast and potatoes. The kitchen was still a mess, and Steve had turned on some Christmas music playing softly in the background. Everything was perfect. Almost.

  Eric turned to her. “Now that Evelyn has told you about the house, do you think you’ll like Italy? Nobody’s around for miles, so you can go outside anytime you want.” He finished his cookie and brushed off his hands. “We’ll get you a new camera, and when you’re older we might be able to travel. Once people forget ....”

  His voice trailed off. Naomi squeezed the mug in her hands and tried to smile. She knew he wanted to say once people forgot about her. He was right, but she wasn’t sure what to think about it. Her entire life people had forgotten about her, so what did it matter? Her parents had obviously moved on.

  “There are oranges on the counter,” Evelyn said, breaking the silence. “Eric, go get some.” She turned to Naomi. “I’ve noticed you’re quiet tonight. Are you feeling alright?”

  “I’m just tired.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “It’s not because of Jesse? He’ll be back in a week, sweetheart.”

  “Well, I ... I ....”

  “It’s alright.” She glanced at Steve, who smiled and nodded. “Jesse is thinking about coming to Italy with us,” she said. “I don’t want you to think we’re taking you away from him.”

  Naomi held her breath. Her cheeks turned hot. They obviously didn’t know Jesse had decided for sure to go to Italy. How much had he kept from them? Did they know they kissed all the time? They didn’t seem to care if it went farther than that. In fact, they probably wanted the relationship to go as far as it could possibly go.

  Eric came back from the kitchen, his hands filled with four oranges. He set them on the coffee table and sat back down next to Evelyn. She snatched two from the table, tossed one to Steve, and started slicing through the rind of hers with a long, red fingernail.

  “It’s tradition,” she said to Naomi. “We always eat an orange on Christmas Eve.”

  Naomi tried to keep a smile on her face. She couldn’t recall any holiday traditions in her family. Her mother hired someone to put up a Christmas tree every year, but it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing about her parents mattered. Even Brad didn’t matter.

  Steve finished peeling his orange and held it out to her with a smile. Her heart nearly stopped. She saw thick rinds falling to her father’s office floor. His elbows were propped on his desk. His eyes twinkled as he pulled a segment from the fruit and placed it into her eight-yearold hands. Nothing had ever tasted as sweet as those oranges.

  “Do you want it?” Steve asked, interrupting her reverie. He was still holding the orange out to her. She took it.

  XXI

  KAREN SIPPED AT HER COFFEE AND WATCHED the traffic from her office window. It was midday. She had just eaten lunch with Anna, and now they were both fighting the afternoon lull.

  “Why don’t we have a siesta like other countries?” Anna asked from her desk. She drank the last of her soda and tossed the cup into the trash. “Afternoon naps should be required, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely,” Karen said, and chuckled softly. “I think Jason takes a nap every afternoon. He’s got a nice, big office, of course, and I think he locks the door and schedules one hour to himself.”

  Anna’s expression turned serious. “We should do that! Really, we could get another couch in your office. There’s space. We could both chill out and listen to ocean wave soundtracks or something.”

  The suggestion was ridiculous, but at this point Karen didn’t care. “Sure, we can do whatever we want.” She turned and sat in her chair. There were eight new emails in her inbox. She ignored them and picked up a picture of Naomi. It was in a small, silver frame one of her clients had given her as a thank you gift. Finally, she had put it to good use and slid Naomi’s picture inside it. Her smile in the photo was natural and sweet— different from the other pictures the press had used countless times in their stories. Karen had kept this one for herself. She thought of the message she had left on Naomi’s phone all those months ago. She could hardly remember what she had said—only that she had started crying by the end of it.

  “So you’re serious? I can black out an hour every afternoon?”

  Karen shrugged. “Sure, why not?” She looked up from Naomi’s picture. “You know, I’ve been thinking about what I told the press back in September.”

  “You mean that story they ran about you?”

  “Yes, how my mother died of cancer and I’ve never been the same since.” Karen ran her fingers over Naomi’s picture. Her mother’s death had affected everything, especially after Naomi was born. Getting close to Naomi was too hard. It was a shame it had taken her so long to realize why. She waved her hand in the air. “Anyway, you watched all that, right?”

  “Yes, and you’ve definitely been happier since then— like a weight was lifted from your shoulders when you explained everything publicly.” Anna smiled. “It helped me understand you better, that’s for sure. It was really nice to hear you talk about her too, about how much you love her.”

  Karen laughed. “Yeah, I think you hated me there for awhile. I think everyone did, including me.”

  “I didn’t hate you.” Anna looked away and started typing an email.

  “You can admit it,” Karen said as she put Naomi’s picture back in its spot. “I’m glad you understand me better, but there’s got to be more than this—more I can do.”

  “You talked about funding some national things,” Anna said over her shoulder. “Remember?”

  “Yes.”

  “So why don’t you do it?”

  Standing, Karen stepped away from her desk and made her way to the couch. “You know, I think a nap sounds like a great idea.”

  She stretched herself out on the cushions and grabbed a small pillow to put over her face. She needed to block everything out. She didn’t want to see or think about anything. The pillow didn’t help, and Anna was right. Why didn’t she do more? Jason and Elizabeth had been bugging her, as well. Everybody seemed to think they needed her permission for anything concerning Naomi. Maybe they did. She was her mother. She was supposed to be the closest person to her, right?

  She groaned and pressed the pillow more tightly to her face. It smelled of coconut.

  “You know,” Anna called out from the other room, “I heard about a girl Naomi’s age who went missing up in Oregon.”

  Why did she have t
o bring that up? Karen focused on keeping her breaths slow. People would forever be telling her about missing children. They thought since her own child was missing, she naturally wanted to relate to every single person on the planet with a missing child. Ridiculous. She decided not to respond.

  “Karen?”

  With a heavy sigh she pulled the pillow away from her face. All she could think about was Naomi and the way she separated her food on her dinner plate into neat little portions—like a checkerboard. Naomi didn’t often eat dinner with her and Jason, but Karen was surprised at how much she remembered from the few times they had been together. The more she thought about Naomi, the less guilty she felt—but then it hurt to think about her so much. She couldn’t win.

  “Did you hear me?” Anna asked.

  “Yes, I heard you.”

  “Well, the story was that she disappeared over a year and half ago. The police had enough evidence to show she was a runaway, but the parents refused to believe it. The sad thing is they didn’t have enough money to keep their own investigation going.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  Anna came into the room and stood where Karen could see her. Her hair was wild today. The corkscrew curls stood out every which way. Her little button nose scrunched up as she made a confused expression. “Well, don’t you think it’s obvious what you should do?”

  Karen sat up and put her head in her hands. “Yes, I know. You’ve been hinting at it for weeks. I should start a foundation to help people like that.” She looked up. “But don’t you think that’s pointless since I haven’t even done anything extensive for Naomi? I’ve done more in the past few months, but no matter what I do it’s been hard to get her name so widespread without a specific angle that excites people and stands out. It’s just that everything has gone cold. It’s so unlikely we’d get results from all the effort. Even my private detective has said so.”

  “But you should push harder anyway, don’t you think? You’re always talking about stuff. Get out and do it. Maybe that’s why you and Naomi had such a hard time connecting, you know? You sure think a lot, but you don’t show what you’re thinking. You’ve always been that way. It’s great for your job to stay nice and calm in the courtroom, but in the other parts of your life, not so much.”

  There was a pinging sound from Karen’s computer as another email arrived in her box. Her heart plummeted. More work. She used to love her job, but lately it was only stress and pain. Everything was flat now. No excitement. Just breathing. Existing.

  “Maybe you’re right,” she said, running her fingernail over a pattern on the couch cushion. The pattern, she realized, was a red starfish, and it made her think of Naomi’s photo Brad had chosen to enter into the contest. Her eyes widened with a sudden realization.

  “What do you mean maybe I’m right?” Anna asked with an exaggerated huff. “I’m always right.”

  Karen smiled, her heart beating quickly. “Yes, you are.”

  XXII

  January

  ERIC SURPRISED NAOMI WHEN HE ASKED her if she wanted to watch the New Year’s Eve fireworks outside. Dressed in her pajamas, she stepped out the front door and tiptoed down the driveway where Steve and Evelyn stood.

  Snow was still clumped in little patches around dead grass and frozen dirt. It had just turned midnight. The sky was clear and black. The fireworks Denver was shooting off in the distance were easy to see above the neighborhood.

  “We’re on a bit of a hill,” Steve explained to Naomi as soon as she reached him, Eric right beside her. “So we’re able to see the fireworks from here if the weather is good.”

  She nodded. They hadn’t let her come out to watch them on the Fourth of July, but that was months ago. Besides, she might have tried to make a run for it back then. Not now. Now she knew better.

  She shifted her bare feet across the icy cement and folded her arms. Eric looked down at her and smiled. “Are you cold?” He wrapped an arm around her as she returned her attention to the black night. Bursts of green and yellow popped in the sky. Seconds later, the sound reached her ears.

  Everything was in its place now. Her past was far away like the fireworks, and not even as beautiful. It was nothing more than a memory.

  “Do you want to go back inside?” Eric asked. “You’re shivering. I can get you one of Evelyn’s coats, if you like.” He squeezed her shoulders again. “I thought you’d like to see—”

  “I’m okay.”

  She looked down at her toes and smiled. Evelyn had painted them for her. They matched her fingernails.

  “I first went to school to study biology,” she had said, bent over Naomi’s hands at the dining table. “Then I changed my major to English, then dance. This is what I ended up doing.” She smiled. “Beauty school. Then I met Steve in the salon where I was working, and he was good friends with the manager of a jewelry store downtown. When we got engaged, he got me the assistant manager job I have now at the jewelry store, and that led to—” She stopped and looked away. Her hand tightened around Naomi’s fingers, the smell of nail polish thick in the air. “Well, I love my job and I love Steve, and I’m happy you’re here with us.”

  Eric’s arm tightened around her as she stared at the sidewalk. It led to nothing but darkness.

  JESSE ARRIVED home a few days later. Naomi knew his flight would land at seven and that it would take him at least an hour to get home from the airport. It was eight now, and she kept looking at the clock as she sat on the couch watching TV with a bowl of popcorn. Eric had let her stay downstairs by herself after dinner. He did that a lot lately.

  “Looks like a party,” Jesse said when he came in through the front door. He smiled and her heart did a summersault as she blurted, “How was your trip?”

  He shrugged and looked around. “Good. Where is everyone?”

  “Evelyn and Steve are upstairs, and Eric’s in his office.” She nodded to the open door by the dining room. If she leaned over far enough, she could see him in his chair talking on the phone.

  Jesse was quiet for a moment. He cleared his throat and nodded to his bedroom down the hallway. “I brought you something. Want to see?”

  “Yes!” She jumped up and the popcorn flew out of her lap and landed on the floor.

  “Happy to see me?” He laughed and set his duffle on the floor before stepping around the couch.

  She fell to her knees, cursing when she spotted a butter stain on the tan carpet. “Evelyn’s going to kill me.”

  “Nah, she has cleaning stuff. It’s not a big deal.” He dumped a handful of popcorn into the bowl.

  Naomi shaped voiceless words in her mouth. She hadn’t seen him in two weeks. Her heart was pounding at the sight of him, at his clean, familiar scent now that he was only a few inches away. Their hands brushed as they picked up some kernels. “I missed you,” she blurted. “A lot.”

  He smiled and set the bowl on the coffee table just as Eric peeked out from his office.

  “Oh, you’re home. Good flight?”

  “A bit crowded, but it was fine.”

  Eric nodded. “Come see me in the office when you can. We need to talk about the meeting.”

  “Sure thing.” Jesse stood and offered Naomi his hand. “Follow me.”

  She stood and followed him to his bedroom, staying in the doorway. She had never seen his bedroom before. Bookshelves lined the walls and in a corner by the window sat a drafting table. One thing she hadn’t realized was the fact that both Jesse’s and Eric’s rooms were directly below hers. Her heart fluttered at the thought of Jesse sleeping right below her.

  “During the first weeks you were here I heard you crying at night,” he said as he let go of her hand and walked to his bed. “You don’t do that anymore.”

  “Uh, I guess not.” She stared at her red toenails. They were bright, just like her fingernails. The color reminded her of Evelyn. Until she had met Evelyn she had never been one to paint her nails or do anything very girlish— except for the makeup thing.

&
nbsp; Jesse cleared his throat and she looked up, giving him an inviting smile. She wanted him to take her into his arms. He should at least say something sweet and predictable like, “I missed you too. I could barely breathe I missed you so much.”

  Instead, he turned around and started rummaging through the duffle he had thrown onto his bed. “They’re in here somewhere,” he said, pulling out a few paperback books. He tossed them onto the bed, mumbling to himself while pushing aside shirts and pants. “Ah, here they are.” He turned around and motioned her toward him.

  She approached and looked down at a stack of books in his hands, counting four of them. They were old, cloth-wrapped hardbacks with gilt lettering on the spines.

  “These are my dad’s,” he said, and set them in her hands. They were heavy and smelled like the basement of a library.

  She looked up with questioning eyes. “Your dad’s?”

  “He said you could borrow them for as long as you like.” He glanced at the top book in her hands, which she finally noticed was The Great Gatsby. Her stomach plummeted as her mom filled her head. She shoved her away.

  “They’re first edition prints. My dad thought you’d like them. You know, not everybody appreciates stuff like this. I told him you would.”

  “I thought you said he didn’t know about me.”

  “Oh, he didn’t.” He turned back to his bag and pulled out a few more paperbacks. “He does now. Well, he knows about you.” Clearing his throat, he gripped a paperback in his hand. “But he doesn’t know who you are. I can never tell him ... who you are. I told him we ran into each other in a parking lot. I suppose that’s not a complete lie.” He cleared his throat again and tossed the book onto the suede bedspread with the others.

  She didn’t know what to do. Her chest was pounding with more emotions than she could possibly sort through. When he finally turned to her and didn’t take her into his arms and kiss her, she thought her heart might burst.

  Eric’s voice yelled out from the office. “Jesse, you free yet?”