Collared(33)

“What are you studying in school, Connor?” I ask as I squirm on the chair, trying to find a comfortable spot. This chair’s so hard. Back at Earl Rae’s, the chairs had pads covering the seats.

He shrugs again while Dad grumbles.

“A little bit of everything right now,” Connor answers.

“Are you a junior now?” I glance at his U-Dub sweatshirt, wondering if he ever sees Rory anymore. They used to be friends, but who knows if that’s the case anymore.

“Senior.”

“Who should be graduating with the rest of his class in a week,” Dad adds under his breath.

“I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up yet. It’s a big decision.” Connor takes a drink of his water. “I’m leaving next week for Europe to spend summer quarter taking a course in ancient Scottish history.”

I nod while Dad grumbles, “Because just think of all the job opportunities out there for people who spend a summer learning about Scottish history.”

“Ancient Scottish history.” Connor lifts his fork.

Dad grumbles again.

Sam is silent down the table from me. I feel her anger directed at me, but I can’t figure out its source. I’ve been gone for ten years—what could I have done to piss her off so badly? She can’t still be mad about the time Torrin and I turned the sprinklers on her and her friends when they were camping out in the backyard.

“What have you been up to, Sam?” I try a bite of the mashed potatoes. I’m sure it’s the same recipe, but I feel like I’m choking down rubber cement.

She tenses when I say her name, then she picks up her fork. “I graduated from University of Oregon three years ago with a double major in International Business and Economics. I work for Boeing in Federal Way as an international liaison. Two years ago, I married Patrick, who I met in college.” She lifts her left hand, and a ring sparkles from her finger. “He works for Microsoft in Redmond as a software developer. We had our daughter last year. Her name’s Maisy.”

Sam lists this all off like she’s reading a grocery list, so it takes me a second to catch up. She’s married? She has a kid?

“So that means I’m an aunt?” The words sputter from my mouth as I try to work that out.

Sam lifts a shoulder.

“Are Patrick and Maisy coming to dinner too?” I ask, but the table’s only set for five.

Sam shakes her head. “Patrick and I aren’t ready to explain all of this to Maisy yet.” She makes “this” sound like a lurid thing.

“How old’s Maisy?” I ask, swirling patterns into my mashed potatoes.

“Fourteen months.”

I feel my forehead crease. Explaining “this” isn’t why Sam left her family at home. She doesn’t want me to meet them. She doesn’t want them to meet me. Is she ashamed of me? Embarrassed? Does she think I’m ruined now? A potentially bad influence? A black hole that will suck everything that gets close into its vacuum?

“Congratulations,” I say before trying the beans. They go down a little easier, but I know I won’t be able to eat more than a few bites.

“Thanks.” Sam picks at her plate, but her appetite looks as absent as mine.

“Jade, sweetheart . . .”

Just the way my mom says it, I know she’s hesitant to mention whatever she’s going to. She’s walking on eggshells. Everyone at the table is. I hate it. I just want them to act like nothing happened, to treat me like the same person they remember me as, to not think of me as a victim who was kidnapped but as their sister and daughter.

“When should I reschedule your meeting with the detectives?” Mom asks.

My fork freezes above the beans. “I don’t know.”

“Next week?” she asks gently.

Dad stops cutting into the roast and sits down.

“I don’t know.”

“You have to talk to them sometime,” she presses.

I nod like I know, but really, I don’t. Why do I have to talk to them? Why is everyone so concerned about me talking to someone? Earl Rae is dead. I’ve been found. What more do they need to know?

“I’ll let you know.” I take another bite of beans as a distraction. This dinner is like enduring slow torture, and I’m not the only one who feels that way. It looks like everyone feels the same. Even my “usual” chair feels like it has sprouted thorns.

“Do you want me to put together a little get-together with some of your old friends?” Mom’s holding her fork, but she hasn’t touched her plate. The only ones eating are Connor and Dad. “I know they’ll be eager to see you.”

I can barely remember the names and faces of my old friends. I know I had some. Good ones. But their faces are blurred out of my memory, their names buried in the attic of my mind.

I swirl my beans around on the plate. “I’ve seen Torrin.”

Mom and Dad exchange a look.

“Maybe some friends who aren’t old boyfriends who went and became a priest,” Sam says under her breath.

“A lot’s changed in ten years, Jade. I know you weren’t here to change with it, but you’ll have to find some way to catch up.”

I know what my dad’s talking about. Or who he’s talking about. He wants me to accept that Torrin’s not a part of my life anymore. He wants me to let go of whatever part of him I’ve held onto.