a place we know| ✓

thirty

"And find a place where every single thing you see tells you to stay."
S E E K E R
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January 4th
5:00 PM
New York
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"Thank you for staying behind, Rahal. You've been a great help."

Audrey dried the last dish with a damp rag before setting it down on the dishrack. "It's the least I can do. I wish I could have been around more, but things haven't been moving smoothly for Gunner and I. There's a lot to we've had to deal with together."

Mrs. Shapiro managed a piteous smile, her small eyes sharp as they scanned the tiny kitchen space. "I've been meaning to ask you about all that. You're not yourself and you aren't looking well these days," she said. "I'm worried about you. And now that Michael's gone home, we can talk."

She noticed discomfort shrouding them as Mrs. Shapiro stood in the doorway. For all that she promised herself, Audrey no longer wanted to be the cause of her own regret and grief. And the only way she could remain sure that her affliction would be kept at bay was by burying these feelings deep down, so far inside that no one would be able to haul them to her mind's surface. She would be awarded custody of Leah, she would soon marry Gunner, and she had a baby on the way; there was no space for much else.

"There's nothing to worry about, Mrs. Shapiro." Audrey's lower back rested against the edge of the kitchen counter while she crossed her arms over her chest, a physical sign of upkeeping her resolve. "Life happens and it's been happening to our family."

When Audrey looked at the old woman, something about her seemed out of place. She wore both hope and despair, gazing with the eyes of a mother. It became more prominent as the seconds ticked by, and it made Audrey's heart palpitate the same way it had when she told her parents about Leah. She didn't like being a subject of scrutiny, but it felt like everywhere she went, that was her identity.

"Let's sit, Audrey." Mrs. Shapiro jutted her head in the direction of the living area. She was gone before Audrey could protest, still shaken up by hearing her first name leaving the old woman's mouth. It was a first, and it sounded especially strange to her.

She walked out of the kitchen and spotted the old woman seated on the loveseat, the space close to her otherwise unoccupied if it weren't for her wrinkled hand patting the cushion. Audrey took it as directive to sit, shy as she did so, her eyes following the intricate Persian design on a rug Mrs. Shapiro must have owned for decades. It was better than meeting her assessing stare.

"You're like a daughter to me, Audrey. I hope you know that." The playfulness that once lingered in her voice dwindled into a seriousness so unlike her. As Audrey flicked her eyes up, she saw many questions, but she couldn't form a reply.

"From what you've told me–or barely told me–about Leah, I think it's safe for me to say that something isn't right with your family." She laid a gentle hand on Audrey's shoulder. "And if this is some kind of secret, you can be assured I won't tell a soul."

Audrey was torn; she was already in pieces and didn't know where to start searching for the answers they needed. "I don't want to talk about it, Mrs. Shapiro. I rather not dwell on the things that went wrong."

"But you can't run away from all your problems, Audrey. You have to acknowledge them and learn to move forward from there."

That was what she repeatedly told Gunner. Taking her own advice was harder to stomach.

"Gunner and I are over it," she insisted, her heart moving in painful twists. "It's not a problem anymore."

"I know the both of you went your separate ways."