We Told Six Lies(37)

Shame floods my face, and I try to see my mom the way others do. With relief. With gratitude.

I just miss her, that’s all.

“What did they ask you about in there?” my dad asks. “Molly?”

“Yeah,” I clip. “I gave them some people to look into.”

He sighs and scratches at his beard. As he stares ahead, the vehicle still cold beneath his hands, I study my father. See the way his shoulders stoop in his faded flannel shirt. He’s thin from long nights at work. From drive-through value meals instead of the ones my mom made when I was younger—apricot chicken and mashed potatoes and southern biscuits. At least, I think I remember meals like that.

And then suddenly, I’m remembering more.

A time when my dad sat at the table, chuckling at something my brother said. When my mom refilled my glass and ruffled my hair and Holt kicked me under the table because he made Mom repeat a word that we both knew was slang for masturbation, but she certainly didn’t.

Dishes clanging.

Demands to finish soggy salads.

Giggles when Holt farts at the table, because good God, nothing pissed off Mom more than mysterious, offensive smells.

And something beneath the table, brushing against my knee.

A dog?

Dad starts the car, finally.

“Did we ever have a dog?” I ask.

My dad turns slowly to look at me, and I know this was the wrong thing to bring up after admitting to being questioned by police for a second time, but I don’t care.

“A dog,” my dad repeats.

“Yeah, did we have one?”

Dad backs out of the driveway and starts down our streets. Pulls onto the business road off our neighborhood and shakes his head. “No, no dog.”

I glance out the window, thinking.

“Are you, uh…are you feeling okay?” he ventures.

I nod.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you like this,” he adds. His voice is cautious, his tone gentle.

“Like what?”

He bites the inside of his cheek. Shakes his head. “You just seem to be a little confused again lately, that’s all. Do you think… Do you think you might want to go back and talk to Dr. Lange? It’d be tougher without insurance, but maybe we could—”

“No,” I snap. “And I’m not confused. My girlfriend disappeared. That’s enough to make anyone feel a little crazy.”

“Okay, well.” He hesitates. “So, bad segue here, but I want you to know the police can’t access your medical files without your consent or a warrant. And no way are they getting a warrant when there’s no proof of a crime.” My dad clears his throat. “Your mom and I looked it up, so… If the police ask—”

“Dad, no,” I say. They’ll never ask because they have no reason to. I did nothing wrong. Now or then.

Dad tightens his hands on the wheel, nods like he understands how I’m feeling.

He doesn’t, though, because he’s never been accused of hurting the girl he loves.

“Your brother has been coming around a lot more often,” he says. “Is he helping?”

I shrug.

He opens his mouth once like he wants to say something, and then shuts it. Waits a beat and tries again. “Look, son. You aren’t going to like what I’m about to say, but have you ever wondered whether Molly leaving was a good thing? You seemed like you were getting a little…emotional…with her in your life. And you were doing so well before that.”

I look at him in disbelief.

He rushes onward. “It’s not that I didn’t like Molly. It’s that your happiness is our first priority. Your mother and I would do just about anything to keep you happy. Someday, when you’re a parent, you’ll understand—”

“I wasn’t happy,” I mutter.

“What’s that?”

“I wasn’t happy. I was the furthest thing from happy. But Molly, she made me feel that way. She gave me something to look forward to every day. She gave me someone to sit next to, to talk to. She believed I could do big things, and she saw me in a way no one else ever has.” I sigh. “And she drove me crazy because she was so weird. And sometimes it was too much to handle. But I loved that about her, too.”

My dad absorbs everything I say and remains quiet. Finally, he clears his throat and says, “Cobain, I have to ask you this. I wouldn’t be a good father if I didn’t.” He swallows. “Do you know where Molly is?”

My head snaps toward him. “What?”

“If you said something to her, or maybe talked to her before she took off, or if you’ve had contact with her since she disappeared, you’d tell me, right?”

“Let me out of the car,” I say.

“Cobain. Son.” He grabs my shoulder. “I know you’re a good kid. If you say you didn’t play a part in this whole thing—”

“She left a note!” I roar too loudly. Way too loudly.

“Then why are the police still talking to you?” he counters.

“Stop the car, Dad.” I don’t like the sound of my voice, because the request sounds more like a threat. And this is my father.

My dad pulls over. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t do anything. I was just—”