Chapter 10: New York Friends

Sometimes things are better left alone. I was beginning to feel that way the more I dug into mom's past.

I had always thought of my mom as near perfect. She never has a hair out of place, even in the morning. She is always put together from head to toe. Mom is the kind of person you can count on. We are always giving kids rides home from band practice. She said, "It never ceases to amaze me how a parent doesn't arrange a safe way for their child to get home." Some of them take Uber or Lift, but mom would never let me or my brother ride alone with a stranger like that. She is a very responsible person. So, what she said about not helping Stacey, just didn't make sense.

I picked up the article again and decided to ask about the funeral.

"The funeral took place in November. Did you go?"

She didn't respond. Mom was sitting with her hands gripped around her wine glass and staring straight ahead like she was in a trance.

"Mom?" I said and touched her arm. She turned her face towards me slowly and blinked a few times. I repeated," Did you go to the funeral?"

She moved her head up and down and explained, "We all did. The church was bursting with people." She closed her eyes recalling the memory and continued," There wasn't enough room for everyone to sit. A lot of people stood in the back and lined the walls. But we sat with Stacey's mom in the front pew. She had insisted we sit together." Mom sniffed and dragged her nails though her hair.

I had to know what she meant when she said she could have helped Stacey, so I asked again.

"Mom? What did you mean when you said you could have helped her? How could you have helped her?

Without pause mom replied, "I knew where to find her. I knew the night she went missing and I didn't come forward."

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. I shook my head slowly in disbelief. Why would she keep where Stacey was to herself? Then I realized something, Stacey must have asked mom to keep quiet.

"Did she run away? The article said her mom insisted she did NOT run away. Was her mom wrong?" I scanned the article for the reference to Stacey's mom's comment and pointed at the line to show my mom.

But she didn't look at it. Instead, she took a deep breath in and then exhaled.

"I think we should back things up before I go on. There is a lot I have to remember to explain my involvement."

Confused, I responded, "Your involvement? What does that mean?"

Mom pressed her lips together tightly and turned her head away from me. I reminded myself that opening up about her past was my doing. I was the one that pushed and pushed. I had to give her the opportunity to explain. I realized it would be unfair to be upset with her for something she had tried to keep hidden.

I chose my next words carefully, "Sorry, okay mom. I am listening."

She got up from the floor, grabbed the wine glass and bottle and said, "One minute." And left the room.

While she was gone I examined the items laid out in front of me. The brown paper bag wasn't sealed so I picked it up and dumped out its contents. Dozens of photos spilled out onto the floor. There was also a mass card from Stacey's funeral, a crushed dried-up white flower, and a gold token. I picked up the token, Games -Players -Paradise,was stamped along the outer edges in raised lettering.

Mom returned holding two glasses of water.

I held up the token and asked, "What is the token for?"

She handed me one of the glasses and took her place back on the floor. Once seated, she held out her hand and I placed the token into her palm. She closed her hand around the token and brought her fist up to her forehead, keeping her eyes closed.

"We need to go back," she explained. "We need to go back to the weeks leading up to Stacey's disappearance." She opened her eyes and handed me back the token.

Mom started sorting through the photos until she came to the one she was looking for. She looked at the picture and managed a small smile.

"Here they are," she announced.

"Here who are?" I questioned.

"My friends. My New York friends from high school you have been persistently asking me about."

I slid close to her to examine the picture. There were eight teens standing together in front of yellow lockers. They looked different, but also the same. I spotted mom easily. She looks almost identical, obviously younger and with a different hairstyle. I recognized Stacey too.

I pointed at mom in the picture and said, "Well, that's you obviously. And this one is Stacey. Who are the others?"

Mom told me about each one of them. When she finished with one, I would point to the next and she would continue. She told me how she was closest to Franey and how Franey and Greg were a couple.

"Franey and I were best friends. We meet in the fifth grade. Back then, schools would separate the girls from the boys when teaching Sex Ed. One of the lessons included watching a film on the menstruation cycle. At ten years old, the possibility of getting your period was highly unlikely. We all thought it was a disgusting act and most of us couldn't help but giggle at the girls being interviewed on the screen. Franey was sitting next to me making the strangest face. At the time, I wasn't sure if she was joking or if she was really grossed out. I leaned over to ask her if she was okay, her eyes got very wide and then she covered her mouth. I grabbed her by the hand and pulled her out of her seat. I told Nurse Lilly that Franey was filling sick and rushed her out of the classroom; we sprinted down the hallway to the girls bathroom. We barely made it, Franey vomited at least twice in the toilet. We she came out of the stall; I promised not to tell anyone. Our friendship grew from there."

Mom spoke about Laurel's confidence and her painfully brutal honesty.

"If you wanted the truth, Laurel would surely give it to you. She could be downright cruel sometimes. She could seriously level a person and not bat an eye about it," Mom recalled.

She said that Petey was sweet and tended to be a bit of a needy person. Mom explained that he was the youngest of five and never got much attention at home.

"Petey tried hard to be liked by everyone. He was cute in a little brother kind of way. Too many girls saw him like that too. Petey was the type of guy who would bend over backwards for a girl he barely knew. He had his eye on a senior one time, Monica, I think her name was. She led him around by the nose and after months of doing her homework and bringing her small gifts, he saw her making out with some junior who was on the lacrosse team. We told him he had terrible taste in girls," Mom shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.

Josh was the clown of the group and was always making everyone laugh.

"He was an acrobat too. Well, not that he had any formal training. Josh could stand on hands, he could run and do a flip, and he was an unbelievable break dancer. Do you know what that is, break dancing?" Mom asked chuckling.

I smiled and nodded my head. I was really enjoying listening to mom remember her friends. She seemed to be happy at that moment too. Mom gave a weak grin and ran her thumb repeatedly over the photograph as if she were trying to rub something off it.

I pointed at the last person in the photo, "And who is this guy? He's kinda cute." The boy in the picture had curly blonde hair and serious deep-set eyes.

Mom's expression changed completely, and her jaw tightened.

She exhaled and said, "That's JJ."

"Oh. And what's his deal?" I asked.

She took a sip of water and looked away for a second. Then she turned towards me and said, "His deal? His deal is that he murdered my friend."

I let go of the picture instantly.