NIP 12

Lizi! I scramble for my phone. No calls. Lizi has not called me back. I jump off my bed. Shit! My hands violently shudder as I dial Lizi’s number. It’s ringing. Answer! Answer!

“Sari.” Lizi whimpers on the other line. Yes, she answered. My tense body lets lose.

“Lizi, thank god, where are you?”

“Is it true?” Lizi’s voice is so small. My heart drops to my stomach.

“It’s true.” I rub my forehead and fight back my tears. “Ainslie is gone. I am so sorry Lizi. I want to be with you. Where are you?”

“I’m working.” Lizi sniffles and then as if she sniffled up her sadness her voice becomes strong. “I’m training. I’m just going to keep training.”

“Are you okay Lizi?” My eyes wander across my room to a picture of Lizi on my desk. Lively Lizi. Laughing Lizi. Larger than life Lizi.

“Fine. Sari, I’m fine.” Lizi softly cries. “Please Sari, can we talk about this later. I don’t get this. I don’t want to get this. Not now.”

“I don’t get it either.” A tear rolls down my cheek. I will not tell her about Aunt Clara over the phone, I can’t. “Go to my condo. I’ll be there soon.”

“I’m going to finish my session. I just….just…I gotta keep moving. I don’t want to be alone. My client has been really comforting.” Lizi takes a deep breath. “Which caught me off guard because he seems like a total meathead. You should see his tattoos….naked ladies and lips near you know where that say ‘kiss me’. Is it wrong of me to giggle? I don’t know what to feel. It doesn’t seem real to me.”

“Feel whatever you want Lizi. Ainslie loves you. You are the one who makes us laugh during hard times. For what it’s worth you made me smile.” And you have no idea how awful this day has truly been.

“Good. I guess.” I can hear her shrug her shoulders.

“Get to my house as soon as you can. And stay next to your phone. I love you.”

“I love you too Sari.” Lizi hangs up.

We have each other. This gives me hope. Hope for what, I do not know. Healing? Family? Turning back time? Truth?

“Was that Lizi?” I look up and see Brad leaning against my bedroom door. I nod ‘yes’ and fall backwards onto my fluffy, pink bed. I lay on back staring at the cotton candy pink ceiling as the tears stream down my face and puddle in my ears.

“We need to get an officer on her. Until we figure out what is going on we have to suspect you both are in danger.” Acknowledges Brad as any good detective would.

My body shudders at his words. I shake my head back, forth and diagonally. I look to him out of the corner of my eye. ‘I know.’ I sadly think to myself. ‘I know. Goddamnit. What is going on?’ More tears pour into my eyes.

Brad lays down next me. He takes my hand in his. He squeezes it. I want to squeeze back but I don’t. I don’t even want to move.

“You are doing great Sari. You will get through this. I know you will.” He whispers.

“Really?” Our faces are inches apart. My heart hurts and my eyes sting. He slowly and deliberately reaches out to wipe my tears. I have a bottomless pit of tears. “I’m so tired.”

“I know. Stay with me. Let’s fight.” His light eyes are so encouraging. I close my swollen eyes, quietly recite his words and beg myself to get it together.

“Where is Mark?” Mark has the magic touch when it comes to awaking my hidden superhero.

“He left.” Brad says flatly as his eyes shift to what appears to be disappointment. Or is it anger?

“Where did he go?” Like a puppet on a string, I hurl myself upright. He left? Without saying goodbye? Ugh.

“Said he had a client to see or some crap. Sari, I think he knows something.” Brad adds cautiously.

“What?” I sigh out of my nose and it sounds a little like a laugh. “Knows what?”

“He’s hiding something. I just know it.” Brad’s expression is tense.

“No way!” I jump off the bed. Brad is being absurd. “Why? Why in the world would you ever say such a thing?”

“My gut. My gut is never wrong. I know it is hard to hear but…”

“No buts Brad. Okay? Your gut!?! Just please stop. Mark and Aunt Clara are very close. That is why he was here. Nothing else to report.” My sneer lets him know to drop it. The subject is closed. “Aunt Clara. Please tell me she is okay. She is, right?”

“It’s not good.” Brad bites his lower lip. He doesn’t have to say, it is written all over his face.

“No.” I bury my face in my hands. “No. No.” My body violently convulses. I have to get this feeling off me. This cannot be real. Aunt Clara is dead. Oh my god! Why? “NO!”

Brad grabs me and hugs me tightly. “I’m so sorry. We did everything we could.”

“Well it’s not enough!” With all of my might I push Brad off of me. I dry my face with the back of my hands. No more tears. “You’ve done shit detective! Oh wait…you accused my fiancé of nothing. Nice work.”

“Stop it! Stop it Sari. Be careful.” Warns Brad without meeting my level of rage. Meet my level of rage Brad…I am daring you! I want to explode. I need to explode. I need to EXPLODE!

“AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!” I ram my fist into my closet door. And then smack the palm of my hands against the door over and over. I grit my teeth. I thrust my foot into the door. I kick it! I bash it in. I kick, I slap, I scream. “AAAAHHHHH!!!!”

A sense of calm begins replace my rage. I step back and run my fingers through my hair. I taste my dripping sweat and take in the damage. Only shreds of my closet door hang from the hinges. “Shit.” I breathe slowly. “Shit.”

“Feel better?” asks Brad. I gradually turn to face him. Half embarrassed, half refreshed. “You needed that.”

Without making eye contact I nod to thank him for letting me off the hook. My heart rate decreases. Brad’s right, I needed that.

“Come here. I need to show you this.” Brad has a tattered photograph in his hand. It’s the one he found on Mark.

I calmly sit down next to Brad. I take the photo out of his hand.

“Do you recognize any of these people?”

My eyes immediately lock on my mom. The young and beautiful Sarah Jane Clarke. Her blonde hair is long and straight in that typical 70’s do. I have a quick internal giggle knowing her hair was actually as curly as mine. She ironed it this straight! It is one of my only memories of her. I only knew her this way…young. The chance to age was stolen from her. And now Ainslie…

I stay strong as I scan the others in the photo. She is with a man, a good looking man with a warm smile. I have never seen this man before. And a baby. I cannot tell if the day is a boy or girl. The picture has faded so even the color of clothes does not provide any clue. There is no doubt in my mind…this is a family picture. I look up to Brad for answers. Whose family?

“It’s dated.” He flips the picture over. “August 11, 1979.”

“This woman is my mother. I am sure of it. But this man is not my father.” I am so confused. My heart picks up the pace and blood rushes through my veins.

“What about the date. Does this date mean anything to you?”

“No…no. I was born in ’79. But that is the only….” I pause. I am breathing so hard. The sight of my chest raising and lowering has a meditative effect on me. I stare at the picture. I focus on the baby.

“Sari?” Brad gently says my name to get my attention.

“It’s another baby. My mom had another baby?” My mouth asks a question but my mind is sure.

“There is only one way to find out.” States Brad with very little reaction to my revelation.