20

Into the World

Her parents thought grounding Tillie was a real punishment. They hadn’t figured out yet that the “boyfriend” they were so worried about was really a fluke friend. Her mom kept saying things to her like, “You know, if you’d used your time and talents more wisely, maybe you’d have time to spend with your boyfriend.” Jake would have found that really funny.

Tillie spent her days watching lots of TV. The mystery shows her parents watched seemed ridiculous to her now. They always ended with some satisfying, good-over-evil resolution. It was unrealistic. Tillie did her PT exercises like clockwork. She finished all her chores each week, and completed her homework right on time. She pretended to listen when her parents had talks with her about affairs and assured her they wouldn’t ever divorce. She just smiled and nodded. She acted like a model kid. A bored-out-of-her-mind, model kid.

On a Saturday, as she put away the dishes from lunch, her dad, working on his laptop at the kitchen table, picked up his phone. After answering, his voice lowered and Tillie turned to see her mom mouth, Who is it? He got up and went to continue the call in the bedroom as her mom followed.

A few minutes later, they came back in together and stood at the kitchen table.

“Hey, honey?” said her mom.

When Tillie turned around she saw they wore serious, we-have-to-talk expressions. What other secrets of hers had they discovered? Did they realize she’d snuck out once? Did they uncover more pictures of themselves on her laptop?

“Honey, Ms. Martinez just called.”

Tillie wiped her hands on her jeans and turned to them, leaning against the sink. “Okay…”

“She told your dad that you’ve been chosen to be in the school art show?”

Tillie sighed. “Oh. That. Yeah, I was, but it’s not a big deal.” She turned back to the sink.

“Sweetheart, come here, okay?” her mom asked, and Tillie begrudgingly came, and they all sat down.

Tillie started playing with a paper napkin on the table, picking it apart into little strips.

“She said you said no,” her dad said in a near-whisper.

“Yeah. It’s just not a great picture.”

“She told your dad you’re really talented.” Her mom reached out across the table. Tillie dropped the napkin and let her mom grab her hand. “That it wasn’t even a question of whether or not you’d be chosen.”

Tillie couldn’t imagine it hadn’t been a question. Not after what had happened. But would Ms. Martinez call her parents and say that if she didn’t mean it?

“She told your dad she’s not supposed to say this,” her mom continued, “but your work is her favorite, no question, and she said we should try to convince you to let your work go in. She said it’s an honor. It’s just three kids in each grade, Tillie.”

Was this Ms. Martinez forgiving her? Was this her peace offering?

“Look, we know she hurt you. And trust me, we don’t approve of her actions in that situation.”

Tillie knew. They’d explained to her that Ms. Martinez and Jake’s dad had done something wrong, but they’d emphasized over and over that “marriage is complicated.”

“But she’s still your teacher,” her mom continued, “and this is still a … a special thing. You can let it be about your accomplishments. Not her…”—her mom paused and inhaled deeply—“mistakes.”

“I’ll think about it,” Tillie said.

Her mom squeezed her hand. “Thanks, sweetie.”

Tillie got up, left the last dishes for later, and went toward her room.

Her dad stopped her in the hallway.

“Tillie,” he said, slowly, as if he was about to impart something very important.

Tillie looked up at him. His eyes fell to their typical resting place at his feet.

“Tillie, she said your art … captures something true.” He looked like he wanted to say something else, but, as usual, didn’t.

“Okay, Dad,” Tillie said. “I really will think about it.”

He nodded and went back toward the kitchen.

Tillie sat by her windowsill, watching the occasional passerby and the swooping birds. She could only imagine the murmurs that would fill her parents’ room that afternoon.

She said your art captures something true.

Tillie remembered how Ms. Martinez had said that same thing to her in the car the day she’d driven Tillie to the doctor’s. Art should capture something true, you know? she’d said. And your photos do that.

Tillie could perfectly picture that memory of Ms. Martinez, her mind’s eye’s image of the woman from two months ago who kindly picked her up from the bus stop. Someone who had told her she should feel free to make mistakes on an art project, but who Tillie assumed never made any mistakes herself. Tillie hadn’t truly known her then, and, really, she still didn’t know anything about Ms. Martinez. She knew one day, one part of a story. But she’d never known Ms. Martinez’s reasons, her feelings, her truth. So she could hate the Ms. Martinez that now existed in her head. Or maybe she could just … forgive her, like Ms. Martinez seemed to be forgiving Tillie. She could just let her be a different Ms. Martinez now.

Tillie could also vividly picture herself that day—the girl who’d been in the passenger’s seat. That girl was different, too. Back then, Tillie had been scared of everyone. She’d let her pictures speak for her, but she never truly spoke for herself. She’d simply run errands for other kids, happy for a peek into other lives that seemed more full. But now she had stepped into her own life. She’d stepped into the world, walked through the Illinois night, followed leads to bowling alleys, sung and danced in front of strangers, and confronted a man who had once terrified her.

And so much of that was because of the time she’d spent with Jake.

It was because Jake had seen her. When he looked at her he didn’t only see how she walked. He even seemed to like how she walked, like it made her … herself. And it did. It was a part of her. He didn’t see a weirdo behind a camera. He saw a detective, an artist. And she was those things. She always had been. In some part of herself, she’d known that for a long time.

But Jake had also seen someone he could trust, and she hadn’t been that person. She’d broken that trust.

She had to apologize to Jake. She had to say she was sorry, right away. She’d avoided him, she’d given up on the idea of him, but maybe if Ms. Martinez could still care about Tillie enough to call her parents even with all that had happened and gone unspoken between them, then maybe Jake could still care about her, too, and forgive her, even though she’d hurt him.

Just the thought of it flooded Tillie with relief.

Tillie bounded toward her parents’ room.

“Is everything okay, honey?” her mom asked.

“Yeah,” Tillie said. “I have to go out, though.”

“No,” her mom said. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s just really important.”

“I’m not going to allow that, Miss Tillie.”

“Mom,” she implored. “I have to go talk to Jake. I have to tell him I’m sorry, okay? About everything that happened.”

“Oh,” her mom said, taken aback.

“I need to apologize,” Tillie said.

“I see, honey,” her mom said with a smile. She made a motion with her hands as if scooting Tillie out of the room. “Yes, okay, go. Go.”

“Yes, go,” her dad piped in. “Good,” he added quietly as Tillie put her shoes on.

Her mom got up to grab her purse and car keys. “I’ll drop you off,” she said. “And I’ll pick you up a half hour later, okay?” She held out Tillie’s phone. “I’ll call you when I’m on my way. But you’re still grounded.”

Tillie barely heard her. She was already out the door.