Baby Doll(11)

He wasn’t wrong. Anything he did seemed to set her off—his tone of voice, his morning breath, his constant monitoring of her nutritional intake. She should have never allowed him to get close. Keeping people away was Abby’s only means of self-preservation, and then she’d gone ahead and screwed it all up.

After Lily vanished, Abby realized that she really didn’t like that many people. Most of them annoyed the hell out of her. They kept on and on about things that meant absolutely nothing. Prom and boys and college and the future. Her past, her present, and her future vanished that dreary Tuesday in September.

“Don’t you see?” she wanted to scream at them. “It’s all so pointless.”

How could any of that crap matter when her sister was out there somewhere? She knew Lily was out there. They were twins. She would know if Lily had died. Abby kept saying over and over again that Lily wasn’t dead, but no one would listen. Not Mom or Dad. Not the half dozen therapists she’d been forced to see.

“Until you accept your sister’s death, you’ll never have a normal life.”

But that was it; Abby didn’t want a normal life. A normal life was a lie. A normal life was the life she’d had with Lily. She called bullshit on a normal life. But the rest of the world didn’t. They wanted normal. They’d moved on. Because people had a time limit on compassion. Not that they didn’t care. The entire town had been devastated after Lily disappeared. They went into mourning. All of the schools closed. Grief counselors were on-call 24/7. Police roamed the streets, vigilant in their desire to protect the young women of Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Agonizing months passed as the entire city held its collective breath, waiting for closure, for answers. But there were no leads. No matter how much they loved Lily, they had to move on. Before long, Lily was nothing but a memory, a face emblazoned on a memorial in the administrative office.

But Abby couldn’t let go. That sweater. The goddamn sweater she’d accused Lily of losing. Why did she have to make such a big deal about it? Why did she have to take the car and leave Lily at school? Why couldn’t she have been nice instead of acting like a total f*cking bitch?

Abby took another bite of pie, trying to forget about the sweater, always trying to forget about the sweater and the choices she’d made that day. She had nearly devoured the entire pie when she heard the doorbell ringing.

“Abby, it’s Wes. I know you’re here. Your car is in the driveway.”

What in God’s name was Wes doing here? When would he learn?

“Abby, open the goddamn door.”

Enraged, she raced to the entryway and swung open the front door, ready to tell him that enough was enough. Her mouth fell open as she stared at Wes and what appeared to be half the Lancaster Police Department.

“I’ve been calling you nonstop. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

Abby became very aware of her appearance. There was almost certainly chocolate on her face. She quickly wiped away crumbs from her T-shirt, hating herself for caring.

“I didn’t hear the phone.”

“So you’re okay?”

“Other than the fact you’re here on my porch at dawn? Yes, I’m fine. Seriously, Wes, what is going on?”

A weathered cop stepped forward, his hand on his service weapon as he peered inside. Several deputies stood behind him, watching, waiting for his signal.

“Is there anyone in the house, ma’am? Anyone else on the premises?”

“What? No. No one’s here.”

“Do you mind if my men take a look?”

He didn’t wait for an answer; made to brush past her and go inside. She held out her hand to stop him.

“You can’t come in here,” Abby said.

Wes pulled her away from the door.

“Abby, for God’s sake, shut your mouth and do what you’re told.”

This time Abby flinched. Wes never spoke that way. Not to her. She took in his ragged appearance. Hair uncombed, heavy stubble, and wearing his ratty Penn sweatpants and sweatshirt, the clothes he always slept in. But this wasn’t like Wes. He never left the house without a pressed shirt. Hell, he ironed his goddamn jeans. She realized he must have rolled out of bed and showed up at her door. Abby stared past him. Several of her neighbors were eyeing them curiously. In an instant, she realized there was something seriously f*cked up going on. She grabbed the doorframe to steady herself.

“It’s Mom, isn’t it? Oh my God, is she…? I have to call her. I have to talk to her. I heard the phone ring, but I…” Abby paused. What could she say? I was stuffing my face with an entire f*cking pie!

She could feel herself beginning to spiral. That’s how she’d always described it to the doctors. Heavy breathing, then the spins, and seconds later, it consumed her. Total blackness. Was it true? Was Mom really gone? That had to be it. But if that was the case, why were the police here? Wes stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. Abby tried to fight him, but he held on tight.

“Breathe, Abby. Just breathe.”

She was feeling nauseous, the pie threatening to make its way back up. Why did she eat the whole thing? She was disgusting, that’s why. So disgusting… and now Mom was dead, and Abby was the bitch that had ignored the call. First the sweater and Lily. Now Mom! She swallowed again. Inhale. Exhale.

She leaned into him, her heart racing. He kept whispering.