Page 27

Story: You Will Never Be Me

26

I can’t get to the living room fast enough. Sabine whines, but I barely hear it as I run down the hallway with her bouncing in my arms. I pause just long enough to deposit her in the playpen, ignoring her complaints, and leap to Liv’s side. Liv looks up from her phone, and the expression on her face is unreadable, but one thing’s for sure: she’s not looking at me the way I’m used to.

“Um, let me just—start it from the beginning,” she mumbles.

She taps at the video, and Tanya appears: her face perfectly done up as usual, her bee-stung lips glossy, her skin smooth as silk. “I can’t keep silent anymore, you guys,” Tanya says. “I haven’t said anything out of respect to Meredith, and also because…” She pauses, sighs. “Okay, I guess part of me was scared. Aspen has a huge following, and I didn’t want to turn myself into a target.”

What? My lips part. What in the world am I listening to right now? With just one sentence, Tanya has turned me into a villain.

“But I heard the news about Meredith’s death, and then I saw all these videos that Aspen’s been posting about how they were best friends, and they were soulmates who did everything together, and I can’t stand it anymore. I’ve just—I’ve had it with all the lies. You guys deserve the truth. So here it is.” She pauses for dramatic effect, and in the short silence, my blood pressure shoots up. “Aspen and Meredith were not best friends. In fact, Aspen had hurt Meredith. Hurt her deeply. See, when Meredith found Aspen, she was nothing more than a wannabe YouTuber, floundering, going nowhere. Meredith was the one who showed her the ropes. She reached down the ladder and basically heaved Aspen up. That was the kind of person Meredith was. She was—” Here, Tanya’s voice cracks, and she pauses to take a breath. “Meredith was one of the most generous and kind people I knew. But when Aspen became big, she ditched Meredith completely. Like, we’re talking complete ghost mode, you guys. She’d overtaken Meredith by then, and she started being condescending toward Meredith. She only had time for her new influencer friends. This bitch dropped Meredith like a pile of hot bricks. And you know she is perfectly capable of it. Nobody buys that helpless nice-person act she puts on. You’ve all seen that video of her screaming at some poor woman and calling her a ghoul by now, right?”

Again, that feeling of the floor giving way under me, so familiar now, washes over me. I have to focus to keep myself on my feet.

“Anyway, Meredith didn’t even hold it against her. I was like, ‘You should do something about it,’ and she said, ‘No, I’m happy for her. I’m just sad about our friendship.’ That’s how sweet Meredith was.”

I want to scream. Rage bubbles and froths, and I want to grab Tanya’s stupid face and shriek the truth at her—that Meredith did do something about it. She did a lot. She did everything. And that’s precisely why we’re all in this mess right now.

“And when Meredith went missing, Aspen couldn’t pounce on that news story fast enough,” Tanya snorts. “I stayed silent because I thought like, well, you know what? The more eyes we get on this story, the more likely someone will find Meredith, so I let Aspen capitalize on it all she wanted. But now we know that Meredith’s dead. And I can’t keep watching this bitch fake-cry all over TikTok. Y’all deserve the truth. So here it is. Aspen is a fake-ass bitch. And I bet that she knows more about Meredith’s death than she’s letting on.” With that, the video ends.

The silence in the room is so thick it has its own presence. My eyes are glued to Liv’s phone, but I can sense her stare on me. When I finally meet her eyes, she actually takes a small step back.

“This is crazy,” I hear myself saying.

Liv nods. “Yeah, totally.”

“It’s pathetic. She thinks she needs to get in on the story, and this is the only angle she can find.” My voice rings in the silence, too loud. Too shrill. In the playpen, Sabine and Rain stop playing and look up at us, surprised.

Liv is quiet, chewing on her bottom lip.

“What?” I say, and even I hear the raw anger in my voice.

“Well…” Liv winces. “I mean, obviously I don’t believe Tanya. She’s totally full of shit, especially about you dropping Meredith because you got big.”

“Yeah, I didn’t ‘drop’ Meredith,” I say. “She dropped me. She was the one who completely freaked out at me and then blocked my number. And all because I got more followers than she had. I only ever wanted what was best for Mer. I can’t believe this is how Tanya’s spinning it.”

“Well, yeah, except, um…you know, it’s true that you and Mer weren’t exactly talking anymore when she disappeared,” Liv mumbles.

“Yeah, so?”

Liv sighs. “I think it might look weird to people. Because we’ve been posting all this stuff about how you guys were best friends.”

I rub the palms of my hands against my forehead with a groan. “Obviously, I wasn’t going to air out my fight with Meredith. Because it didn’t matter! We were best friends. Best friends fight; that’s normal. I didn’t want to distract from the fact that she was missing. I was only ever trying to help.”

“No, I totally get it,” Liv says. “I’m just saying, that’s how some people might take it.”

I know she’s right. I want to fight Liv on this, because she’s the only person around, but I know there’s no use. Liv doesn’t control how others are going to perceive me. But maybe Liv can help stanch the damage. If there is any damage to be fixed, that is. With luck, people will see Tanya for the attention-hungry fraud that she is and stick up for me. But when I open up TikTok, I see that I’m being way too optimistic. The first video that shows up on my FYP is from another influencer ranting about how fake I am, and how they should look into the GoFundMe page that I’d set up for Clara and Luca because she’s willing to bet money that I really set it up for myself.

“Unbelievable,” I mutter. “We need to post something now. A response to show that we’re on the right side here.”

Liv nods hesitantly. “What will you say?”

“I don’t know, just shoot the video. It’s better if it comes from the heart.”

Instead of lifting up her phone as I expected, Liv continues standing there, chewing her lip. “I don’t know, Aspen. I think this time you need to pause and really think about what to say.”

“You were the one harping about being hashtag authentic this whole—” The doorbell rings then, the sound slicing through the air like a scythe. We both jump. Who the hell could it be? I walk to the front door and open it, and light explodes in my face. Cameras flashing, blinding me. I stand there, blinking owlishly, my mind short-circuiting.

“Aspen!” a reporter calls out. “Can you say a few words about Meredith’s death?”

“I—what?” I heard his question perfectly clearly, of course I did, but my mind is refusing to comprehend what the hell is happening. The thing with social media fame is that there is a clear divide between social media and mainstream news media. The paps rarely ever follow people like us, not unless we’ve got fifty million followers. Or, as it turns out, unless someone in our circle is found brutally murdered.

“Do you have any responses to Tanya Dylan’s claims about you and Meredith being sworn enemies?” another reporter shouts.

“We weren’t sworn enemies,” I snap back without thinking. Immediately, the knot of reporters shouts out another barrage of questions. Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything . I’m about to retreat back into the sanctuary of the house when I see a familiar car pulling up on the curb. The doors open and my heart sinks. It’s Detective Garza and Detective Clarke. The reporters swing their cameras around and click away as the two cops walk up the driveway. Oh my god, how must this all look right now? Cops coming to my house? I must appear innocent. I mustn’t look scared, even though everything inside me is shrieking in pure terror. I summon up a smile, and the cameras flash away at me. Belatedly, I realize how wrong it looks, smiling at a time like this, and quickly drop it, but it’s too late. I’m now the psycho who stands at the door and smiles as cops come to question her about her best friend’s murder.

“Hi, Mrs.Palmer,” Detective Garza says. “Sorry to disturb you. Can we come in?”

I can only nod and step aside. The last thing I see as I close the door is the crowd of unforgiving lenses trained at my face, the shutters clicking away. I lock the door and take in the blessed silence of the house, trying my best to grasp at any semblance of calm. The detectives stand before me, and Liv is right behind them, carrying Rain.

“Uh, I just remembered I have a lot of errands to run,” Liv says. I think she’s trying to smile, but it comes off more as a grimace. “I’m just gonna—sorry, ’scuse me, Detectives.” She slides past them. “See you!” She scoots past me and is out through the door in less than five seconds.

The two detectives’ eyes never leave me. “She looks familiar,” Detective Garza says after a beat.

“She’s my PA. Liv Boyer.”

“That’s right. @LivBoo,” Detective Clarke says. “She’s been in most of your recent videos.”

“Mm, yeah, that is her. Wow, I didn’t recognize her in person,” Detective Garza says. “Would’ve liked to have a chat with her. But I suppose we can just drop by her place after this.”

Sabine, finding herself alone in the living room, begins to fuss. “Sorry, I need to—”

“Yes, of course,” Detective Clarke says.

I rush to the living room and pick Sabine up. Her onesie is soaked through with pee, and with a rush of guilt, I realize that I didn’t change her diaper after her nap. I was going to, but Tanya’s video had sidelined me. “I’m so sorry, baby,” I whisper. When I turn around, I jump. The two detectives have followed me into the living room. “Uh.” I catch myself and force a polite smile. I gesture at the sofa. “Please, take a seat. I need to change her diaper.”

“Take your time,” Detective Garza says.

As I hurry off, I analyze our short interaction. Are they behaving any differently toward me? Is there suspicion in their eyes? A note of accusation in their voices? I can’t tell. I force myself to focus fully on changing Sabine’s diaper, hoping this mundane task will calm me down. More than anything, I need to be in full control of my emotions right now. I can’t afford to lose my shit. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then I pick Sabine up and walk back into the living room.

“Can I make you a drink? Maybe another matcha latte?” As soon as I hear the words leave my mouth, I want to kick myself. Who the hell would be offering a matcha latte when she’s just found out that her best friend has been murdered? I make my chin wobble. “Sorry, I know that sounds ridiculous. I’m just trying to hold on to any semblance of normalcy.”

Detective Clarke nods sympathetically. “I understand. Please, Mrs.Palmer, take a seat. Don’t worry about us. We won’t be here long.”

Really? I want to squeak.

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Detective Garza says.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

“We saw your videos. You were obviously heartbroken,” Detective Clarke says. “We had hoped to find Ms.Lee alive.” He shakes his head and sighs. “We know how tough this must be for you, but could you walk us through the last time you saw Ms.Lee alive again?”

“I—I don’t understand. I told you, the last time I saw her was months and months ago. Isn’t Clara the one you need to be talking to?”

“We’ve talked to Clara Lee,” Detective Garza says. “Don’t worry about that; we are talking to everyone and anyone that Meredith might have come in contact with in the last six months.”

Maybe that’s true? Maybe this is just routine questioning? Or maybe I’m just a fool who’s being overly optimistic.

“What can you remember about the last time you saw Meredith?”

“It’s been so long…”

“Any details you can think of will be helpful,” Detective Clarke says gently.

I nod, trying to sift through the jumbled mess in my head. “Um, well, I told you she was unhappy about how fast my social media accounts were growing. She told me she felt we weren’t good for each other anymore and she wanted to take some time away from our friendship.” God, that sounds so bad. Does it? I make sure to keep my tone as neutral as possible. “It was just a silly little argument.”

“Doesn’t sound little to me,” Detective Garza says. “If one of my friends told me she didn’t want to see me anymore, I would be devastated. Did it not upset you?”

“I mean…” I grope around for the right words. “I wasn’t happy, obviously. But I understood. I wasn’t going to try and stop her or anything. I have a lot on my plate.” I nod at Sabine, who’s babbling away happily on my lap. “I’ve got three kids. Two of them are twins, so I haven’t slept in years. I have a booming career to manage. Honestly? I was kind of relieved when Meredith said she needed some space.” I grimace. “Sorry, I know that makes me sound like an awful friend.”

“Not at all,” Detective Garza says. “You have your own life, I get it.”

I nod and smile sadly.

“But…” she continues. “In your latest videos, you didn’t mention any of this. You made it seem like you’ve been in constant contact with Meredith.”

My cheeks and forehead and neck grow hot and sticky. It’s exactly what Liv pointed out earlier. But you know what? Being fake online isn’t a crime. I need to remember that. “Yeah,” I say. “I hate that I had to do it that way, but I hope you understand; my main concern these past few days was getting word out there about Meredith’s disappearance. I didn’t want to distract people from the real purpose, which is to find her.”

Detective Clarke nods. “Makes sense.”

“Um, can I ask…” I say. “What was—um, did she—um, did she suffer?” My voice breaks then, and I cover my mouth with one hand.

The two detectives look at each other. “The coroner’s report isn’t out yet, so we can’t say anything definitively,” Detective Garza says.

“Oh my god,” I moan. “Meredith.”

“I’m sorry this is so hard for you,” Detective Garza says. “But we do have a few more questions. Do you think we can keep going?”

I nod, my face still a picture of sorrow. “Yeah. I want to help any way I can. I—do you have any suspects yet?”

“We’re looking at a few leads. With cases that are as high profile as this, there tend to be a lot of voices thrown into the mix.” Detective Garza studies me, and I can’t tell if she’s buying my act. “Can you recall, at any time after your falling out with Meredith, did your paths ever cross?”

I mull her question over. The answer, of course, is yes. They crossed multiple times. We were often invited to the same events, the same parties. I decide there’s no point in lying; they’d find this out soon enough. “Yes, here and there. We sometimes were invited to the same parties. But I respected her space. I knew she didn’t want to talk to me.”

“Other than parties?” Detective Garza says. “Anything else?”

I shake my head. “I can’t think of anything.”

Her eyebrows raise. “We’ve been studying Meredith’s movement in the weeks leading up to her disappearance. And there were a few things we found somewhat interesting.”

There’s that sense of danger again, the lizard brain stirring, tensing up at the presence of a predator’s attention. “Oh?” I say.

“We’ve been talking to a lot of her contacts,” Detective Garza says, “and a few of them mentioned that they got to know Meredith because they happened to run into her while they were waiting for a meeting with you. Apparently, you didn’t show up to these meetings, and Meredith happened to be there, too, so they ended up working with her instead. Does that strike you as strange?”

Oh god, oh god. Run. Run now. Run fast. Somehow, I manage to sit still, though my fear is an all-encompassing entity, swallowing me whole into its red mouth. I shake my head slowly. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“If it happened once, that would be nothing—just a coincidence that she happened to be at a place where you were supposed to meet with a sponsor. But we’ve now talked to three separate people who said this happened to them. That’s more than a coincidence.”

“It’s a pattern,” Detective Clarke agrees. They both look at me, and I swear they’re not blinking.

“I—yes, I suppose that is strange. But I’m not sure what to make of it,” I say, adding a stupid, girlish laugh. Look at me, I’m just an airhead.

“Do you tend to miss important appointments, Aspen?” Detective Garza says. “Because these people seem to be bigwigs in your industry.”

No, you condescending cunt, I don’t tend to miss important appointments. Nobody gets to where I am by missing important appointments. I give that stupid, self-deprecating laugh again—the one that makes me sound like I have an IQ of seventy—and say, “Oh, you know how it is. Like I said, I have three kids, and the inside of my head is like, argh!” I mime a head explosion.

“I get that,” Detective Garza says, not letting up. She’s like a dog with a bone. “But don’t you think it’s strange that Meredith was at all of these meetings? What are the chances of that?”

“Yeah, that is strange.” I nod, my mind whizzing ahead. How do I play this? Act ignorant. “I don’t really—I’m not quite following. I don’t understand how she could’ve possibly been at these places.”

“It’s curious, that’s for sure,” Detective Clarke says. Of the two of them, he’s still the more sympathetic one, so I focus my poor, confused gaze on him.

“I really don’t know what to tell you, I’m sorry.” I look down at Sabine and stroke her back.

“Fair enough,” Detective Garza says. “That’s for us to figure out. But one more question before we move on from this.” She leans forward, going in for the kill. “What did you do when you found out that Meredith got these sponsorship deals and partnerships over you?”

When is a question not a question? When it’s an attack. It slices right into my gut, carving me open, exposing all of my insides to the world. For a second, I just sit there, frozen, with no idea how to respond. Then I give myself a mental shake and force a confused smile to my face. “I don’t know what you mean, Detective. I didn’t really do anything.”

“Walk me through what happened on your end. You had these meetings set up, yes?”

I nod.

“And you didn’t turn up because, what, you forgot?”

No, it’s because Meredith sabotaged me. God, I need a way out. I can’t sit here and be attacked like this anymore. But then it hits me. The perfect answer. “Well, actually, it’s more like I realized they weren’t the right partner for my brand. Branding is very important in my line of work. I’m all about being authentic to my fans. I can’t be selling products I don’t believe in.”

Detective Garza narrows her eyes. “And you didn’t bother calling to cancel the appointments?”

I give an apologetic grimace. “I probably meant to, but then forgot. Like I said, it’s a mess up there,” I say, pointing at my head.

“So when you found out that Meredith got the sponsorship deals instead of you, were you upset?”

I widen my eyes. “Gosh, no! To be honest with you, I wasn’t even aware that she’d gotten these deals. I told you before, I have so much on my plate. And even after we fell out, I always hoped she’d do well. I loved her. She was the one who taught me how to succeed as an influencer. I only ever wished the best for her.” The thing with the best lies is, they all have a kernel of truth in them. And this one is no exception. No one can deny the sincerity in my voice because yes, I did want what was best for Mer.

Detective Garza leans back, still studying me. I’ve thrown her off-balance for a bit, I can tell. But she’s not convinced. She thinks there’s something fishy here, and she’s right. What are the chances that Meredith would happen to be at the places where I was supposed to meet with sponsors, over and over again? Zero, that’s what. Then she takes out her phone, scrolls for a bit, and plays me a video.

A crushing grip catches hold of my midsection. Because it’s a video of me at the pediatrician’s office, from that time I missed Sabine’s vaccine appointment. I watch, wide-eyed, as I stride over to the camera and hiss at the woman recording me.

“You seemed pretty upset here,” Detective Garza says when the video ends.

I shake my head, trying to clear it, trying to come up with a good explanation. “I—well, yeah. That was me missing my baby’s vaccine appointment. Of course I was upset. That’s different from missing a meeting with a sponsor.”

“Is it?” Detective Garza exchanges a glance with Detective Clarke. “I wouldn’t know; I’m not a mom. But seems to me they would both be very frustrating.”

“I’m a mom, first and foremost,” I say, and it’s a wonder how I manage to make my voice come out even. “My priority is taking care of my girls.” There is nothing more I want than to look away, but somehow I keep my eyes trained on Detective Garza.

Her mouth opens, like she’s about to say something, but the front door opens and there’s the sound of running feet.

“Mommy? Mommy!” The next moment, Elea and Noemie appear in the living room, both of them crying. Ben follows behind them, looking haggard, an empty shell of a man. When he sees the detectives, he stops short, his mouth parting.

I stand, thanking my lucky stars. With the twins home, there is no way that this cursed interview can go on. And next time, I’ll be much better prepared. I’ll be lawyered up by then, for one thing. “These are Detectives Garza and Clarke,” I say to Ben, right before wrapping the twins in a hug. “Oh, babies. It’ll be okay.”

“It won’t be!” Elea cries. “Aunt Mer is dead! Everyone’s talking about it at school!”

The two detectives stand there, looking uncomfortable. Noemie—shy, sweet Noemie—is the one who looks up at them and says, “Are you going to catch the bad guy who did it?”

Detective Clarke nods, his face softening. “We will.”

Ben still hasn’t said a word. He’s just staring at them like a stupefied little kid.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Detective Clarke says, nodding at me. “We’ll let you know if we have any follow-up questions. And don’t hesitate to call us if you think of anything.”

I nod, and we all stand there, clutching at one another, as the detectives leave the house.