memento vivere

chapter nineteen

"No, I don't know what type of truck..— No, I don't know the color either, I never saw it. I only heard them mention it..— Oh— Okay.. Okay. I will. Thanks."

Later that day after returning home, I sat staring down at the Detectives number scrawled out on a torn piece of newspaper. He had ran out of official cards to hand me, so the funny section had to suffice.

His quick reminder before we left rang in my head. To call if I remember or see anything else suspicious. While trying to deal with the whirlwind of emotions and getting swept up in the details, the most important part of the plot, probably the most vital piece, it seemed to be the furthest thing from my mind. The part where, if this were a true crime show, I'd yell at the tv screen:

"Of course it's him, you stupid bitch!"

All while shaking my fist at how ignorant they could be..

It's easy to see it from the outside looking in, through a screen.. But once you're apart of the story, it's just as easy to lose sight.. But this guy.. The innocent one. How could I forget him?

I sat blissfully unaware and only realized it whilst riding back with Eddie. He wasn't speaking so looking for a distraction, my eyes landed on his glove compartment where those memories reside. I began to wonder what type of person his ex wife had to be. Were we anything alike? What were her hobbies? Her aspirations? Her quirks? More specifically, what caused their separation? Had any of those things led to it? Did she leave towels on the floor? Dirty dishes by the sink instead of in it? Or maybe it was Eddie?.. I would ask but all the thoughts flowing in my brain came to an abrupt stop as I fixated on the crested Chevy emblem on the dash and this alarming feeling crept over me.

That this was what Trixie and Sammies last ride must've looked like.. That any number of the trucks we were passing on the road could've been him. Any number of men we passed on the sidewalks. Maybe he was the man buying peaches from the produce stand. Maybe he was the guy walking his dog? Who knows, maybe my mistake cost us time. Maybe he's half way to Canada by now.

I eagerly ran my ideas by Eddie, to get just a little something out of him since he's been silent, but he didn't have much to add to the speculation. He kept his eyes on the road and himself closed off, even as I leaned over and kissed his cheek. I poked and I prodded, even offered to go home with him, strictly to help unpack and digest what happened since I'm struggling myself.. But he said there was something he needed to get done so I didn't press it. It sounded like an excuse but could I really blame him?

Despite feeling rejected and on edge because of the phone call, I ended up passing out and awoke the next morning to the sound of arguing. At least that's the only normal thing still going on these days. Like every instance before, I sit and listen. Trying to piece together what it's about this time and I hear bits and pieces, the usual. Money, bills, groceries, how much time Dad spends at the bar.. And then my name.

Of course my name is being brought up, that's not the part that surprises me.. Or rather worries me. It's the part I heard after that.

"It's from Rae's school."

I couldn't hear the rest of it because I'm scrambling to get downstairs as fast as I can whilst still retaining some sort of level headedness. Following the voices, I find them both sitting at the kitchen table, Mother still in her pajamas. Because of this, I glance to the clock and see that it's way past time for her to leave.

It's past 12 pm. Shit.

They haven't spotted me yet but on the table lays several papers that they're reading over. The light beating down overhead brings me back to the interrogation storage room but this time, I am the one in trouble.