Page 59 of Did You See Evie

“When I say I want to help you find Evie, I mean it,” she says, turning away from her daughter to look at me. “Believe me.”

“Okay.”

A woman on the sidewalk is strolling in the direction of the playground. She stops when she gets closer to our car, hunching down to look through the windshield.

“Nadia?” the woman asks.

“Shit.” Without acknowledging her, Nadia yanks the gear into drive, pulling out of the parking spot.

“Who is that?” I ask. The woman remains on the sidewalk, her posture still as she watches us drive away.

“That’s the mother,” she says.

“You said it’s an open adoption,” I say. “Maybe you should have a conversation with them. They might want you involved.”

“That will never happen,” Nadia says, as she pulls out of the school zone and onto the main road. “She’s better off without me.”

If she really believes that, I wonder, why was she so desperate to be a part of Evie’s life?

THIRTY-ONE

The third time’s a curse.

We’d gotten caught stealing handbags from the mall. I’m not even sure why we did it. We were becoming reckless. Nadia and I weren’t the type to carry designer handbags. Most of the time, I was wearing basketball shorts and T-shirts while she’d strut around in holey jeans and tank tops. Really, I think we just wanted to see what we could get away with.

Not much, as it turns out.

An attendant caught me trying to stuff a Coach wristlet into my backpack. The mall police were called, they searched our belongings, and we were arrested.

Truth is, even when we got caught, there was a thrill involved. Nadia and I were so used to being invisible. There was a power that came with being escorted through the mall lobby by men in uniforms. People would watch us, almost like they were afraid of us, and that feeling was exhilarating.

All fun stopped after my father was called. Because this merchandize was so expensive, my father had to pay to have me released. The whole way home, I worried about the beating I’d receive when I got back. We had an important game at the end of the week; the last thing I needed was to get injured.

What he did hurt more than all the times he’d hit me.

He told me I couldn’t go to the game.

“You can’t be serious!” I shouted at him. “Basketball is all I have!”

“Exactly,” he said. “If I take that away, maybe you’ll stop being such a problem.”

We went back and forth for hours, yelling and shouting. By the time he left for work, I was so distraught, my throat was raw from screaming.

As usual, Nadia came by the house. “What happened?”

“He’s not going to let me play,” I say. “He scared me.”

“That asshole has no right to do this to you.”

Even then, I wondered if that was true. My father was a complicated man. He neglected me, beat me, but somewhere beneath that, I knew there was love. Maybe this was his attempt to try and parent me. Try to keep me from making the mistakes he did.

When the night of the game came, he left for work with a warning: “You better be here when I get back.”

He’d scared me so much over the past couple of days, I had every intention of staying. I flinched when I thought of Coach Phillips’ disappointment when he realized I wouldn’t be at the game.

I almost didn’t answer the door when Nadia came over. Even time with her wasn’t enough to console me.

“I have a plan,” she says, a devilish look in her eyes. “You’re going.”