“Where have you been?” Tillie’s mom scolded when she arrived home. “You look exhausted. What happened?”
Tillie went toward her bedroom, silent. She dragged her limp foot and felt it fill up with pain with each graze upon the floor.
Her mom grabbed her shoulders and turned her around. They were in the doorway to the hall that separated their bedrooms from the kitchen and living room, and Tillie thought of Ms. Martinez standing in the doorway. She felt sick.
“Mom, let me go.”
Her mom did.
“Excuse me, Miss Tillie, you are going to tell me where you were.”
Her mom’s arms formed perfect triangles on each side of her torso. She looked so angry it almost made Tillie laugh.
“What’s that smirk about?” her mom said, close to yelling.
Tillie moved past her mom and made it to her room, her mom right behind her, speaking into the back of her head the whole way.
“Tillie, there is no Art Club, is there? Okay, fine, I’ll tell you the truth, even though you never tell it to me. I know there’s no Art Club. I know there isn’t. I was trying to let you lie. To let you be … normal. Not that I mean you’re not normal. I mean that I was letting you get away with this one. With your boyfriend. Which, yes, I know I need to learn is okay, because, of course, there will be more of them. Of course there will. But I check on these things, Tillie; I call. I call the school and find out when to pick you up and—guess what?—there’s no Art Club. But I didn’t say anything last night, did I? Did I? But this is several times in a row and I don’t accept this anymore.”
Tillie threw her backpack on the floor. She removed her camera from where it hung around her neck and gently placed it on her shelf. She pulled the small camera out of her coat pocket and put it next to the other one. She threw her coat on the floor. And she collapsed on the bed.
Her mother took in a sharp breath.
“Are you okay? Okay, I’ll stop being angry. Just tell me you’re okay.”
Her mom leaned down to touch her leg, as if by placing her hand on it she could somehow tell how much pain Tillie was in. But Tillie kicked her mom away with her good leg, almost hitting her in the shoulder.
Her mom stood up, moved away from the bed, and choked out, “I hate this, Tillie. Whatever this is, these last couple weeks. This new you who is always gone. I’m so afraid for you. You struggle with movement, we know that. And all of a sudden you’re out there somewhere, probably running all around, and I see you’re in more pain than usual.” Tillie’s mom’s voice broke for a moment. She dabbed under her eyes with the end of her sleeve. “And there’s a cause and effect, honey. And you know, I leave work at four so I can come home for you. Do you realize that? And then you’re not here. Do you know how much that hurts me, Tillie? Let alone worries me?”
Tillie rolled onto her side so that all she could see was the wall. “Go away, Mom,” she said. “Please.”
“Honey—”
“Go away!” Tillie yelled.
Her mom must have obliged, because Tillie felt herself fall asleep. She hadn’t taken a nap since she was a little kid, but it felt warm and sweet.
When she woke up, her mom and dad were sitting in the kitchen with half-eaten suppers before them. Tillie wandered in looking for some kind of wake-up snack. She didn’t even know what time it was.
As she made her way to the fridge, they were both staring at her.
“Tillie,” her mom said. “We would like to talk to you.”
Tillie grabbed a ginger ale and some cheese and sat down across from them at the kitchen table.
“Where were you, sweetie? Is something wrong?”
Tillie shook her head. “I was out taking pictures,” she answered truthfully.
Her mom nodded, watching Tillie cut a huge slice of cheese and chomp it down. She was starving.
“Look, you know you can’t be running around,” Tillie’s dad said. “If you get hurt more, we just won’t be able to…” He trailed off. “To … I won’t be able…” And then he didn’t say anything. He was mute, as usual. He couldn’t finish, though Tillie was dying for him to do just that.
“Yes?” she made herself say, still not looking at either of them. “Won’t be able to…?”
Her dad shook his head.
“I’m fine.” She took a couple more bites, stuffing her mouth, and then got up from the table. Her parents were still silent, and she hated that she had to stagger back in front of them, in front of her dad, especially. She hated that she couldn’t just walk straight.
When she got back to her room she saw she finally had a text from Jake. A long one.
hey. sorry. u ok? somehow last night mom found out about the bowling alley?? very very weird. do i have a microchip implanted in me or something? kidding kidding. obvs. phone got ‘confiscated.’ snuck into her room to write to abby and ian this am while she worked from home. now shes watching tv so i can check it. what’s up w cubicle man? have new theory? i call u 2morrow. now i delete this and live a life of solitude ps even tho mom thought i was sick she still let me go to art club cuz i said i was super invested in the subject matter. hilarious. but guess where i was? that’s right—a rental place. got stuff to tell you tomorrow. k c ya soon matilda green
She put the memory card from her camera into her laptop, imported the photos, and pressed print.
The pictures of Ms. Martinez and Jake’s dad flew out of the printer in a fountain of nauseating images. As Tillie texted Jake back to tell him everything was fine and she’d see him tomorrow, she picked up a freshly printed photo of Jake’s dad grinning with his chin nestled in Ms. Martinez’s beautiful hair. Tossing it onto the desk with all the other pictures from the Mystery of the Missing Father, she thought to herself: Case closed.