Where I Left Her

by Amber Garza

“No,” Natalie said, sounding startled. “Why? What’s going on?”

  There was a pause at the other end of the line when Whitney finished explaining, and she wondered if she’d lost her. But then Natalie spoke. “There has to be a logical explanation. I mean, you clearly went back to the wrong house. That’s easy to do in those neighborhoods, especially if you don’t remember the address. And maybe Amelia just shut off her phone when she went to bed last night and hasn’t turned it back on yet.”

  “Yeah,” she responded slowly, waiting for the words to sink in and give her peace. But they didn’t. Something felt off about this whole thing. “That’s probably it. Thanks.”

  “No problem. Call me when you find her. I only wanted to tell you—oh, never mind. The photos are up online and look great, that’s all.”

  “Okay,” Whitney said, barely listening. Tossing the phone onto the passenger seat, she drove around the neighborhood a couple more times looking for another house with rosebushes lining the yard. Coming up empty, she groaned in frustration.

  Where was Amelia?

  Lauren’s seventeen. She drives.

  Whitney’s mind reeled back over all her conversations with Amelia in the last few days, trying to remember if she ever specifically said she was picking her daughter up. Nope, she couldn’t recall ever coming up with a plan for how Amelia was getting home today. Whitney had just assumed she was picking her up, since that’s what she usually did.

  But everything had changed lately.

  Maybe Amelia was already home and Whitney was freaking out over nothing.

  As she drove swiftly through the Sacramento streets, she pictured her daughter curled up in bed, fluffy white comforter wrapped around her body. Amelia often took a nap after a sleepover. That was the most likely reason she wasn’t answering any texts. She was at home asleep.

  Yes, that has to be it.

  Whitney couldn’t wait to get home and tell her what happened. Amelia would probably be mortified at first. But then she’d make fun of her, and they’d both have a good laugh before putting this entire weird day behind them.

  When she reached their apartment complex, she quickly parked and hopped out. She was about to walk away from her car, when she remembered the groceries in the backseat. For a split second she contemplated grabbing one of the bags. But her need to see if Amelia was inside trumped anything else at this point. Groceries could wait. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere.

  She raced up the stairs, making it to their front door in record time.

  “Amelia!” Whitney tore into the apartment, dropping her purse and keys on the ground. The scent of French toast and syrup lingered. “Amelia!”

  After sprinting down the hallway, she flung open her daughter’s bedroom door. Cold, stale air smacked her in the face. Amelia’s bed was made in a haphazard way, half the comforter spilling over to one side, pillows askew on the top.

  Your room has to be clean before I take you to Lauren’s.

  Amelia had groaned as she stared up at the ceiling as if complaining to God. Fine, she’d said, the n punctuated by an “uh” sound at the end, before slumping back into her room.

  The pile of clothes that usually threatened to take over the floor of Amelia’s room wasn’t exactly gone, but at least she’d pushed it to one side. The desk in the corner was covered in jewelry and lotions. Whitney had no idea how she ever did her homework over there. Makeup lined the entire perimeter of her dresser. Sadly, it had been like pulling teeth to get her room looking this good.

  Stomach sinking, Whitney ran around the rest of the apartment, checking all the other rooms.

  Empty. Every single one.

  Exhaling, she yanked her phone out and pressed on Amelia’s contact information. Voice mail again. She tried the Find My Friends app but her location still wasn’t showing up.

  It was like she’d disappeared.

  Vanished into thin air.

  “Oh, my God. My baby!”

  The phone rang. Her pulse spiked.

  Natalie again. “Did you find her?”

  “No, and I’m starting to worry a little bit.”

  “Where are you?” Natalie’s voice was firm, authoritative. Whitney had heard her use that same voice in business meetings.

  “Home.”

  “Okay. I’m on my way over.”

  “All right.” She nodded as if Natalie could see her and then numbly hung up the phone. Silence was thick in the air, wrapping around her neck like two large hands strangling her.

  My daughter’s gone. Again.

  4

  WHEN I TELL YOU what happened, it will be easy to blame me. To say it was all my fault. My doing. But that’s not fair. We all make our own choices, sure. But we don’t live in a bubble. People influence us. Shape us into who we ultimately become. For me, that person was Millie.

  I’ve often wondered where I would be now if we’d never met. Would I have made similar mistakes? Hurt as many people? Would it all have turned out differently?

  The questions swirl in my mind, day and night.

  It’s futile, though. This line of thinking.

  I can’t change what happened.

  Sometimes I go back to when it started. The day Millie literally crashed into my life. It was the first day at my new high school. I was walking down the hallway, eyes whipping from my schedule to the classroom doors, desperately trying to find my next class in time. I wasn’t paying attention, and neither was she. That’s why we collided.

  When I replay this moment in my mind, I imagine walking away then. Keeping my head down. Ignoring her. But that’s not what I did.

  Instead, I brushed my hair from my face and looked up at the person I’d walked into. She had dark hair, pale skin, nervous energy.

  She was pretty. Really pretty. I wished I could look like her.

  Her gaze took in the schedule I held between my fingers, and she asked if I was new.

  I said something sarcastic, like, “How can you tell?”

  A group of girls walked past. Former friends of Millie’s, as I’d learn later. They glared at her, and I watched her neck swell as she swallowed hard. But she recovered quickly, smiling at me and snatching the schedule from my hands.

  Snaking her arm through the crook of my elbow as if we were two members of the gang from The Wizard of Oz, prancing down the yellow brick road, she offered to show me to my next class.

  But she didn’t stop there. She helped me find the rest of my classes that day.

  And the next day we sat together at lunch in the school quad.

  After that, we were inseparable.

  It was like we’d met at the perfect moment. She was in need of a new friend, and I was in need of any friend.

  But Millie wasn’t just any friend. She was different from any person I’d ever met. I’d felt so lucky to have found her the way I did.

  At least, I thought so then. Now, I’m not so sure.

  * * *

  It seems weird to describe Millie as my best friend. From the get-go, she was so much more than that to me. Sometimes we joked that we were more like sisters. Soul sisters. But even that phrase doesn’t do our relationship justice.

  Our friendship was intense and all-consuming from the beginning. The connection we felt to each other was strong. The first few times we had sleepovers, we played this game late at night, when everyone was asleep and the sky was pitch-black, dotted with shimmering stars. One of us would draw an image on the other one’s back and that person would try to guess what it was. It was a game of focus. Of shutting everything else out. In order to guess correctly, I had to home in to every curve of her fingertip, every angle, every motion, every push and pull.

  It was simply me and her. Our fingertips. Our breaths. Our beating hearts.

  Nothing else.

  Millie was good at the game. Much be
tter than I was. Then again, I’d never claimed to be an artist.

  The first time we played, I’d been so nervous. Mostly because I thought I’d have to pull up my shirt and she’d see my fat rolls. Millie was thin. I was afraid she’d make fun of me the way my former friends sometimes did. I didn’t know her well enough then to know she’d never do that.

  But, lucky for me, we drew over each other’s shirts. No skin required. I can’t tell you how relieved I was.

  That night I drew simple, easy things—a sun, a tree, the wavy cresting lines of the ocean. Millie drew a cloud, a rope, a woman drowning. I didn’t get close to guessing the last one.

  That was the first inkling I had that there was more to Millie. There was a darkness in her.

  At the time I had no idea how deep it went.

  Probably because to me Millie didn’t feel dark. When we met, she was the only bright spot in my life. Normally, I was so guarded with new friends. Suspicious. But something about her felt right. I’d liked her immediately and trusted her just as quickly. No reservations.

  Looking back, I guess that was a mistake.

  5

  SATURDAY, 1:00 P.M.

  TWENTY HOURS

  AFTER DROP-OFF

  “HELLO?” WHITNEY ANSWERED HER CELL.

  “Hey,” Jay said. “I’m back.”

  Where had he been? Whitney’s mind reeled back. Oh, right, the business trip. Had that only been yesterday? It seemed like a million years ago. Whitney rolled out her tense shoulders. Her entire body ached, as if she’d just returned from a grueling uphill run.

  “Whitney?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m here...it’s just.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and squinted. “Well, Amelia spent the night at Lauren’s last night and she’s still not back yet. And I can’t get a hold of her.”

  There were footsteps on the stairs, a dog barking in the distance. Whitney’s skin prickled.

  “She probably just wants more time with her friend. Milkin’ it, you know?”

  Milking it. Yeah, that sounded like her daughter. She’d even used that exact phrase to describe Amelia’s actions when she used to take her to the community pool. They went almost every weekend in the summer when Amelia was younger. Whitney always dreaded having to wrangle Amelia out of the water when it was time to leave. She’d stand at the edge, hollering at Amelia, who would dive underwater repeatedly, acting as if she couldn’t hear her.

  Was that what she was doing now? Ignoring Whitney’s calls, pretending she didn’t know it was time to leave Lauren’s in the hopes of staying longer?

  It was possible.

  A knock on the door startled her. “Oh, I’m sorry, Jay, but Nat’s here.”

  “Call me when Amelia comes home, okay?”

  “Yeah. Okay.” She hung up and opened the door.

  “Is she back yet?” Natalie whisked into the room, wearing her usual yoga pants and T-shirt, her strawberry blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. Whitney often joked that it was Natalie’s uniform. She always looked ready for the gym, although Whitney didn’t think she even had a membership.

  “No.” Whitney closed the door firmly behind her. It was afternoon. The air outside was warm. Amelia should’ve been lying lazily across her bed, feet propped up on the wall as she scrolled her phone.

  “I’m sure she’s fine.” Natalie reached out to pat Whitney’s shoulder. “Teenagers do this all the time. I can’t tell you how many times Kayla came home late from a friend’s without calling or checking in. And don’t even get me started on Marc.”

  Whitney knew that Marc was the more rebellious of the two. Natalie had told her many stories of his pot smoking and failing grades. But he’d turned it around. Grew up. Whitney and Amelia had attended his wedding a few months earlier. Even though Kayla had gotten pretty good grades, and, at least according to Natalie, had never used drugs, she had been caught sneaking out to see her boyfriend a couple of times in high school. Now she was in her first year of junior college, and still living at home, but Natalie often joked that she’d never know it based on how often she saw her.

  Whitney nodded. There was a time when she would’ve scoffed at Natalie’s remark, declaring that Amelia wasn’t rebellious. That she was responsible, respectful. That she always called or texted, kept in contact with Whitney. Up until recently Whitney had believed that was true. Believed that her daughter wasn’t like other teenagers.

  But she didn’t think that anymore.

  She thought back over the past few months. To all the times Amelia wasn’t where she said she’d be.

  A couple of weeks ago, Whitney was working at the warehouse, counting inventory and taking some pictures. She’d lost track of time, working late into the evening. Before heading home, she’d checked Amelia’s location, and was relieved to see she was at the apartment. But when she’d arrived at home, Amelia was nowhere to be found. She was about to call her when she breezed in through the front door nonchalantly.

  When Whitney asked her where she’d been, she said she’d gone down to the pool. Any other time Whitney would’ve believed her. The pool was one of the main selling points for moving to this apartment complex. Amelia spent much of her time there. But that night she hadn’t gone for a swim. She wasn’t wet, she wasn’t wearing her suit and she reeked like smoke.

  Whitney called her on it, but Amelia said she’d just been sitting on the edge, with her feet in the pool, and that someone else had been smoking out there. It had probably just gotten on her clothes. No big deal. Then she rolled her eyes and headed back to her room.

  It sounded plausible and maybe if it had been an isolated incident, Whitney would’ve bought it.

  Now, Whitney felt stupid for freaking out and making Natalie come over when Amelia was simply being a rebellious teenager. Surely her anxiety was fueled by the fact that she’d gone back to the wrong house, and the fact that her relationship with Amelia had been so strained lately. She’d already been on edge, and this added to it.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” she said. “Man, I really miss the days when she was little, and sweet and helpful.” Maybe that was the real reason she missed Amelia’s old friends. She’d known them when they were younger. Back when they still needed help with things. When they were around, she felt that old maternal instinct kick in, and still had the sense—regardless of how false it may have been—that she was in control.

  “Tell me about it.” Natalie smiled in a conspiratorial way. “Before Marc turned into the teenage-monster, he was the sweetest little boy, always giving hugs and kisses and helping me bring in the groceries and stuff.”

  “Oh, my God. The groceries,” Whitney blurted out, Natalie’s words reminding her. “I went to the store earlier, and the food’s still in my car.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, I’ll help you bring it up,” Natalie offered without hesitation.

  Whitney waved away her words. She’d already taken enough of her time. “It’s all right. I got it. You can head home if you need.”

  “Nonsense.” Natalie shook her head. “I’ll stay with you until Amelia comes home.” Without waiting for Whitney to respond, she moved toward the front door. “Let’s go grab those groceries.”

  Smiling, Whitney grabbed her keys and followed her friend out the front door. Together, they bounded down the stairs and made their way to the parking lot.

  In her haste, she’d left the car unlocked earlier. So, they both opened the back doors and grabbed out a bag. Whitney was about to lock the doors when she spotted the gummy worms in the front seat.

  “Oh, hang on.” She opened the door with her free hand and reached inside. Her fingers wrapped around the warm bag of now-melted candy as she plucked them off the seat. The plastic was slick, and it slipped from her fingers, falling to the floorboards. She set the grocery bag on the pavement and then bent down to fish around for the bag of gummy bears.
When she was about to stand back up she noticed a receipt crumpled up under the front seat. She snatched it up and smoothed it out.

  It took a minute for the words to register. None of it made any sense.

  Victoria’s Secret.

  Sunrise Mall.

  She didn’t shop at Victoria’s Secret. Maybe she should have. She’d thought about it lately, since she and Jay had started dating. Before that, she had no need for pretty bras and panties. She needed functional. Budget friendly. But even so, they lived right by Arden mall. There would be no reason to go to Sunrise. Her gaze shot to the top of the receipt. Amelia’s card was used, not hers. It was from a couple of weeks ago. Thursday. Time-stamped at 3:30 p.m.

  Whitney would’ve been at the warehouse that afternoon. Possibly running errands for Natalie. Amelia should have been at swim practice. Not traipsing around Sunrise Mall and certainly not buying lingerie.

  Was that what she bought?

  The item was listed in a generic way. It could’ve just as easily been a regular bra.

  But why would Amelia need a bra from Victoria’s Secret? And why wouldn’t she tell Whitney?

  “Everything okay?” Natalie asked, shielding her eyes from the sun as the other one held a bag of groceries.

  “Uh.” Whitney shook her head, shoved the receipt in her pocket. Then she reached down to the bag she’d abandoned. “Yeah. I just need to check something upstairs.”

  When they got back to the apartment, Natalie immediately went to work putting away the groceries.

  Whitney knew she should help her friend, but impatience buzzed through her. She headed straight to the computer. Going into her favorites, Whitney clicked on the bank tab. Then she went into Amelia’s account. She rarely checked it. Amelia was great at saving her money from her babysitting jobs and birthday cards from her grandparents.

  That’s why Whitney was shocked to see the balance so low today. Scrolling, she saw the Victoria’s Secret purchase, along with several other purchases that day, including Starbucks and Chik-fil-A. Both totals were more than they would’ve been for one person. Amelia had clearly been treating someone else. Lauren, maybe?