Page 8

Sol

“Where were you last night?” I text her again. But I’ve been patient. I’ve waited a week. I drove by the house and noticed Tacy’s car in the driveway. At seven PM. But there were no lights on. I peeked in the windows. No one was home. All night.

“Listen here, mother fucker. I will kill you if you come in my house again,” she texts rapidly. There’s fury pouring from her words. Not exactly the reply I was expecting.

I squint and read her message again. Did someone come into my house? I start typing out this exact question but pause before I hit send. She’ll know it’s me. I have to play this cool. Although inside I’m ready to go on a killing spree thinking that someone broke into my home and threatened my family’s lives.

Instead, I type out, “what happened last night, Tacy? Who came into the house?” then hit send.

She reads the text and responds within seconds.

“You did, you psychopath!” I can almost hear her screaming at me. I always hated when Tacy was mad. She’d go from sweet Princess Tacy to angry feral Tacy in seconds, and sometimes I had no idea what set her off.

“I didn’t come into the house. It wasn’t me.”

“I don’t believe you. What do you want from me? Please just leave my family alone.”

I really must be careful here, even though I wish I could just jump in my car and speed over there. Pull her in my arms and tell her everything is going to be all right. That I’m protecting her, and I won’t let anyone ever come near her or the kids again.

“You don’t have to believe me. But you should trust me. It wasn’t me in the house last night. If I came into the house, you’d be the first to know.”

Another painful pause.

“Who is this?”

“I can’t tell you. Yet.”

“Just leave me alone.”

“You need to install cameras and an alarm.”

“What?”

“Security. You need an alarm system at the very least. To deter people.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“The sooner the better.”

Tacy

This whole time I’ve been thinking this mysterious texter had broken into my home. But if that was true, he wouldn’t have said he didn’t break in last night when the incident was in the middle of the day. And why would he encourage me to install an alarm? Was this a part of his sick game or am I going crazy?

I’ve scheduled a company to come out and install cameras and an alarm this week. I’m not fucking around with my family’s safety anymore. The break-in has me feeling vulnerable. Weak. And I’m unable to protect my own children. So…no more.

I just worked a thirteen-hour shift and make it home with a box of pizza just as the sun goes down. My mother and her elderly boyfriend have been staying with us since the incident two days ago. It sounds sweet but trust me. It’s anything but. I should be appreciative of her help with the kids, but it just feels intrusive. But maybe that’s because my house was just broken in and now, I have people invading my space that aren’t typically the do-gooder type. My mother acts like she cares, attending charity events and donating hundreds of thousands to various non-profits, but in the end…she only ever cares about herself. And the money she inherited from her rich parents.

Everyone chows down on the pepperoni and olive pie and mom surprisingly helps me put the kids to bed.

I crash on my couch, prop my feet up on the coffee table, and watch as my mother flips back and forth between the home improvement and cooking channels. Although, I’m not sure why. She never was a great decorator…or cook, for that matter. Growing up, my mother spent all her time at the country club. The woman had a glass of wine in her hands by ten in the morning, and hardly ever wielded a spatula. Still, it seems she’s trying to do better. I should give her a chance.

“Thanks for the pizza, Tace,” she says and sips from her wine glass.

“No problem,” I say. “Hey, just so you know, I have the alarm company coming out tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh, that’s a fabulous idea.” She sets her wine glass down and turns to me. “Did the police figure out who broke in?”

I shush her gently. “I just don’t want the kids to hear any more about it. They’ve been through enough this year.”

She nods and pretends to zip her lips and throw away the key.

“No, they haven’t. It’s like they don’t care,” I whisper. “They didn’t even take fingerprints, Mom.”

She frowns. “What do you mean, they didn’t take prints?”

“Exactly what I said,” I sigh. “They said it was probably someone looking to steal identities. That’s all. Didn’t take photos of the scene either. I’m beginning to think the cops don’t like the Rountrees very much.”

She clears her throat and leans back on the couch. Then crosses her legs and bites her bottom lip.

Guy Fieri’s voice fills the air between us.

“Frank and I will be here when the alarm company comes tomorrow,” she says decidedly.

“Thank you, Mom. For everything.”

“I know we haven’t always had the best relationship, Tacy. But I want you to know, I love you very much. You and the kids. And I am truly sorry for what happened to Sol. And for what happened to the house. I just don’t understand why.”

I shake my head and snuggle up in a blanket. “I don’t either, Mom.”

“Neither do the police, obviously,” she says. “So, what did the intruder take, exactly?”

“Some files,” I reply.

“Well…yes, we know that. But which ones?”

I had been so consumed with getting out of the ER the first night, then getting my house cleaned up and the kids readjusted that I’d totally forgotten to figure out the files the burglar had taken.

“That’s a great point,” I admit. “I don’t know which ones. But I can find out.”

Mom follows me into the office. I click on the corner lamp and sit cross-legged on the carpet next to the filing cabinet. Mom follows suit, grunting as she lowers herself to the floor. She situates herself, then leans in and bumps my shoulder playfully.

“Isn’t this fun? Solving mysteries together?”

My mouth drops open. Is she serious? Solving mysteries together? I’d better not even address this comment.

I open the bottom drawer and read the names on the yellow tabs of the folders. “Taxes 2022, Taxes 2023, Mortgage, Home Insurance”. I open each file, flipping through the papers speedily, searching to see if I notice anything glaringly obvious that’s missing. “Car, Life Insurance, 401K.” I continue looking, but everything seems to be in its place.

“Anything yet?” Mom asks.

“No.” I open the birth certificate file and stop. Then gasp when I notice what was taken.

“Sol’s certificates. They’re all gone,” I utter as a sob threatens to escape my throat. I swallow to prevent an outburst.

“His certificates?” Mom asks.

“His birth and death certificate,” I say, my voice wobbly. “His social security card. Even his degrees. Those bastards.”

Mom reaches for the file and thumbs through it. “They left your birth certificate though. That’s strange, don’t you think? Why would they take Sol’s but not yours?”

“An easy target, I guess?” I begin to cry. I’m tired of holding back. I’m exhausted and it’s too difficult to steel my emotions. “Maybe they figure he’s dead so who cares?”

I grab my knees and hug them to my chest. Then bury my face in them and let the tears flow. Mom reaches over and rubs my back. The most amount of affection the woman has ever shown me.

“It’s going to be okay,” she coos. “You’re a strong woman. You bring people back from the dead. Surely you can overcome this.”

“I don’t know that I’ve ever brought anyone back from the dead, Mom, but thank you,” I say and sniffle.

“Well, you know what I mean. People go into code blue, or whatever you call it, and you are there to save them. To pull them back from the brink,” she says and squeezes my shoulder gently.

That night, I lay down to sleep and can’t stop thinking about Solomon. I mean, I should be more worried about the house and the kids, and the fact that we were burglarized less than a week ago. But I can’t get Sol’s face out of my head. Which is stupid. Because he’s dead. I’ll never see him again. Never feel his lips on mine. Feel his strong arms around me. Feel his cock inside of me. I can’t help but pleasure myself thinking of the way we used to fuck each other. He satisfied every need I had. Emotionally, he was always there for me. Never judged me. Always encouraged me. Physically, he held me when I needed affection. Protected me from danger. And sexually, he explored every one of my kinks with me. Every nasty little desire, he made happen. And never thought twice about it. I’ll never find another person like him. And honestly, I don’t want to.

I give into sweet sexual release and go to sleep that night dreaming of the days when Solomon was alive. When we were happy and safe. I wake up in the morning and remember Sol is gone. And I’m a resident on a nightmare carousel that’s spinning faster and faster. One that I’ll be stuck on forever.