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Lafayette, Louisiana, USA
31st of January, 6:45 a.m. (GMT-6)
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Zoe Miller woke up with a smile on her face. There were no screams or cries for help that needed to be drowned out with the white noise of the TV, no kaleidoscope of pain spinning in her dreams, and no fear lurking in the quiet moments. She had slept through the night, the first time in days.
All week long, her unconscious mind kept replaying the scene in the chapel, try as she might to forget. It was worse in her sleep when her brain took liberties with reality. When she’d consulted the internet, the consensus was mild post-traumatic stress, which seemed weird to her. She had witnessed no violence nor was she violated. At the time, she didn’t even feel in danger and the man in the chapel was nothing but polite. It was only later that she realized what could have happened—but for the grace of God, she too could be missing.
She didn’t know if it was possible to be traumatized by something that didn’t happen, but if she had PTSD, she was more inclined to believe it was from being questioned by the police. As a young woman of color, she steered clear of law enforcement, but when five people disappear, there was no avoiding them.
She reached over the armrest for her phone and switched off the alarm. Still half asleep, she left it plugged in and charging while she did some light surfing. She liked a few photos and watched a super cute dog video that made her laugh. She replied to a DM that came in after she had already gone to bed, albeit in emojis because it was too early for words. As she fully roused, she checked in with herself. She was still worn down, but was no longer bone tired. It was amazing what a good night’s sleep could do.
When she sat up, she saw the mess around her for the first time. She asked herself how she had let things get so bad on her way to grab a trash bag from under the kitchen sink. When she saw the tsunami of dishes that had taken over, she was utterly appalled. Zoe readily admitted she was not a neat freak, but she wasn’t a slob either.
One thing at the time, she told herself as returned to the living room and threw away the empty food containers. She shook out the blanket and a rogue Cheez-It fell out. She bent down to pick it up and found salt spilled all over the place. How on earth did that happen? She added the stale cracker to the trash and vowed to vacuum this weekend. She neatly folded the throw and arranged the pillows, transforming the makeshift bed back to a couch. She surveyed her progress and deemed it a good start.
She re-entered the kitchen and ignored the dishes long enough to rummage for food. Sleeping through the night meant no late night snacking and she was actually hungry this morning. One look in the fridge told her she needed to grab breakfast on her way to work, and it was probably a good idea to stop by the grocery store on her way home. Not that she had anything clean to cook on or eat out of.
Realizing her dilemma, Zoe quickly packed the dishwasher like a three dimensional puzzle. There was more need than rack space, but at least the remaining dirty dishes now fit in the sink. She loaded the liquid detergent but thought better than to start it this early in the morning. This was the nicest apartment complex she had ever lived in, but even here, the walls carried the vibrations of machinery extraordinarily well. She set the timer to start in two hours, when most of her neighbors would be awake if not at work. She fought the urge to continue cleaning now that she could actually see the counters, remembering she had to get ready for work.
With Eva gone, everyone at LARC had pitched in to pick up the slack, but there wasn’t a lot of staff at the Acadian Village in the first place. On top of routine duties, someone had to deal with the police, organize the cleanup, and figure out what bookings were on the horizon. In Eva’s absence, her boss had been around a lot more. While Zoe was glad she hadn’t been asked to bat out of her league, his presence was disruptive to her flow and she’d taken to coming in early so she could work in peace.
His frustration was understandable. Like anyone who had been at their job a long time, Eva had her own system for keeping track of clients and contractors. She had a rolodex of names and numbers, but there was a plethora of information she never bothered to write down or excise because they were things she already knew—which caterers were kosher, which vendors to use for tables and chairs for indoor events versus outdoors, which florists were reliable, and which businesses had gone under. And heaven help anyone who tried to decipher her personal brand of shorthand in her calendar. When her boss was there, Zoe could hardly go more than thirty minutes without being interrupted by questions she didn’t know the answers to either.
After Zoe used the toilet, washed her face, brushed her teeth and fixed her hair and makeup, she went to her bedroom to get dressed. She made an outfit out of what clean clothes she had left, but it was slim pickings. She cut eyes at the hamper and spied the bottle of detergent she had put on top to remind herself to do laundry this weekend. Of all the domestic tasks, she found laundry the worst.
Once she was dressed, she rifled through an old cigar box that acted as a jewelry box. She always wore the same necklace—a locket her grandmother had given her on her sixteenth birthday—but she liked to change up her earrings from time to time. She stopped when she found the scalloped earrings Eva had given her two Christmases ago.
Since her disappearance, Zoe had thought a lot about Eva. The older woman had taken her under her wing when she’d arrived in Lafayette with next to nothing. The hurricane and prolonged flooding had taken everything, including her mémé, and when things didn’t get better after a couple of years, she couldn’t stay there with the memories any longer. Though Eva wasn’t a relation, she’d become the closest thing Zoe had to family. She would check on her when she was sick, caution her against getting involved with the wrong sort of men, and brought her homemade goodies on a regular basis. That woman could bake like nobody’s business.
Last night she’d even dreamt of her. Zoe was at work in the administration office and Eva stopped by with a box of cookies. The two of them were chatting over coffee and sweets like they had done so many times before. It felt so real but even in the moment, Zoe knew it had to be a dream because Eva was still missing.
Then Eva pulled a non sequitur. “You know, even though I don’t get to see them as much as I would like, I’m really proud that my kids got out of Louisiana and found their own way. They know I love them, but I don’t think I’ve ever told them that. If you see them, will you let them know?”
“Why don’t come back and tell them yourself?” Zoe playfully chided her, but instead of returning sass in kind, Eva became very serious.
“Will you do it? For me.”
“Of course,” Zoe readily agreed. She didn’t understand what was happening, but there was nothing she wouldn’t do for Eva.
Eva’s body relaxed and she was back to her old self. “Good. Then I better get going before we both get canned. They don’t pay us to sit around and eat cookies.”
Zoe objected. “Can’t you stay a little longer?” She had the inextricable notion that if she let her go, she would never see her again.
Eva smiled radiantly. “No, sweetie. I have to go, but you take care of yourself.” She gave her a big hug and just like that, she was gone.
Zoe stared back at her reflection and fought back the welling tears with deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. She waved her hand in front of her face, trying to fan away the tears and sadness. Not now, she told herself. She didn’t have time to redo her makeup.
Once the moment passed, she unhooked the earrings’ clasps and slid them through her earlobes before relocking them. She shook her head side to side and watched them dangle in the mirror. Eva always had good taste.
Zoe slipped on her shoes and did her routine check before leaving the house: phone, wallet, keys. She grabbed the bag of trash and put it in the dumpster on the way to her car. Her silver Toyota Corolla wasn’t sexy, but it was the first new car she had ever bought, which made it precious.
She stopped at the drive-thru and treated herself to an egg and sausage croissant sandwich and a fancy beverage that was more sugar and whipped cream than coffee. She had been in a funk all week, and the idea of a little treat lifted her spirit.
She was singing along to the radio when she pulled into the Acadian Village parking lot. She stopped mid-chorus when she saw the empty squad car parked next to her boss’s car. “What now?!” she groaned in the sanctuary of her Toyota as the singer continued without her.
There was no one manning the front entrance at this early hour, and Zoe went straight into the village, following the path to the dentist’s house. The door was unlocked and she prepared herself for an encounter with her boss and the police. Instead, she found the office empty.
She went to her desk and turned on the computer before unwrapping her breakfast and taking a bite. It was still warm, and the greasy sausage was distinctly different but complimentary to the fluffy scrambled egg and the buttery flake of the croissant. Today, there is no such thing as calories, she declared as she sipped her warm beverage.
She didn’t see the post-it note on her monitor until she sat down at her desk, but she recognized the messy print as the same hand that signed her paychecks. Chapel—keys to the altar?
“There are no keys to the altar,” she answered the scrawled query out loud. She put her sandwich down and checked the keys cupboard: nada. She looked at the charge station and found all the walkie-talkies docked. Zoe ruefully sighed. So much for finishing the weekly reports this morning.
No one would blame her for taking five minutes to finish her breakfast, especially since she’d arrived forty-five minutes early, but she could just see her boss trying every key on the giant ring before he figured it out. She wrapped up her food to keep it warm and headed for the chapel.