the images happy and content.
She turned to the closet next. Opening
the closet, Clear found it jammed full of clothes. Kat was
obviously experimenting with her identity. On the left were a dozen
dance outfits and two pairs of ballet slippers on the floor. In the
center were a bunch of dressier clothes, some more formal like what
someone might wear to church, some clearly for going out with her
friends to concerts and such. To the left were t-shirts and jeans.
On the top shelf were two stackable drawers. Clear opened one and
found underclothing. The other contained gloves, scarves, hats and
other apparel. There were a variety of Goth looking outfits,
several with a more punk feel; some were cheerleadery and some were
suiting a more athletic girl.
On the top shelf next to the drawers
Clear found a memory box. She carefully pulled it down and set it
on the floor opening it. On top were papers and notes, cards from
her dad and grandparents, ticket stubs, brochures and pamphlets
from events and locations she had visited. At the bottom of the box
were some shiny rocks a butterfly in a glass box and a brown
leather pitchers mitt. When Clear brushed the mitt she felt the
first sorrow in the girl’s life. It was a deep sadness with a fair
mix of anger and even hostility. Clear saw Grant playing ball with
a much, much younger Kat. She saw Kat holding the glove and
remembering. She saw her mom’s resentment of Grant trying to make
their daughter a tomboy and Kat’s resentment at being pushed into
activities her mother thought were more appropriate for girls. The
failed piano lessons, the failed voice lessons. Her satisfaction at
compromising with ballet. Despite the tu-tus, Kat enjoyed the
physicality of it. She never let her mother know how much though
and instead used ballet as a bargaining chip to go to soccer camp,
to try out for basketball. But she was not allowed to play baseball
and she resented that.
Clear could feel herself crying and
tried very hard to stop, but didn’t realize that she was even
making a sound until she felt Grant’s hand on her shoulder. She
swiped at her eyes angrily.
“ Are you alright?” Grant
asked quietly.
Clear nodded, unable to speak. She
cleared her throat, again swiping at the tears leaking from her
eyes. “Not for me,” she mumbled, unable to say more. Grant nodded,
understanding.
Laura scoffed, “Not for you, for us?”
She shot daggers at Grant. He glowered back.
Clear stood up and started putting
everything back in the box. “Your daughter was very good at
compartmentalizing.” She stated, trying to sound professional. She
began to put the box back and stopped. There was a baseball… She
sifted through the memories trying to place it. Where was the
baseball? It was important somehow. She shoved the box back up into
the closet.
“ Laura, do you know where
her baseball is?”
Laura looked at her in shock, with a
little guilt she shook her head. “How… how…”
Clear looked at Laura hard. “You threw
it away right after he left. You thought that was the end of it,
but she fished it out of the dumpster that night and hid it away so
you wouldn’t get rid of it again.” Clear sat on the bed and looked
around again.
“ How is this significant?”
Grant asked.
“ I.. don’t quite
know…something…” She put her hands to her head and closed her eyes.
Her head was starting to ache. “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I just…
Well, I need to lie down.”
Grant looked at her a bit surprised
and a little worried.
“ Oh, that’s all you have
up your sleeve?” Laura muttered. “Nothing else to
share?”
Clear glowered at her, her head
beginning to throb. “I can’t tell you anything the police didn’t
already figure out and you already told Grant. She wasn’t taken
from here. She didn’t run away, but she was taken. I just don’t
know where she was taken from.”
Laura threw her hands up in the air.
“Then what have you been doing pawing through my
She turned to the closet next. Opening
the closet, Clear found it jammed full of clothes. Kat was
obviously experimenting with her identity. On the left were a dozen
dance outfits and two pairs of ballet slippers on the floor. In the
center were a bunch of dressier clothes, some more formal like what
someone might wear to church, some clearly for going out with her
friends to concerts and such. To the left were t-shirts and jeans.
On the top shelf were two stackable drawers. Clear opened one and
found underclothing. The other contained gloves, scarves, hats and
other apparel. There were a variety of Goth looking outfits,
several with a more punk feel; some were cheerleadery and some were
suiting a more athletic girl.
On the top shelf next to the drawers
Clear found a memory box. She carefully pulled it down and set it
on the floor opening it. On top were papers and notes, cards from
her dad and grandparents, ticket stubs, brochures and pamphlets
from events and locations she had visited. At the bottom of the box
were some shiny rocks a butterfly in a glass box and a brown
leather pitchers mitt. When Clear brushed the mitt she felt the
first sorrow in the girl’s life. It was a deep sadness with a fair
mix of anger and even hostility. Clear saw Grant playing ball with
a much, much younger Kat. She saw Kat holding the glove and
remembering. She saw her mom’s resentment of Grant trying to make
their daughter a tomboy and Kat’s resentment at being pushed into
activities her mother thought were more appropriate for girls. The
failed piano lessons, the failed voice lessons. Her satisfaction at
compromising with ballet. Despite the tu-tus, Kat enjoyed the
physicality of it. She never let her mother know how much though
and instead used ballet as a bargaining chip to go to soccer camp,
to try out for basketball. But she was not allowed to play baseball
and she resented that.
Clear could feel herself crying and
tried very hard to stop, but didn’t realize that she was even
making a sound until she felt Grant’s hand on her shoulder. She
swiped at her eyes angrily.
“ Are you alright?” Grant
asked quietly.
Clear nodded, unable to speak. She
cleared her throat, again swiping at the tears leaking from her
eyes. “Not for me,” she mumbled, unable to say more. Grant nodded,
understanding.
Laura scoffed, “Not for you, for us?”
She shot daggers at Grant. He glowered back.
Clear stood up and started putting
everything back in the box. “Your daughter was very good at
compartmentalizing.” She stated, trying to sound professional. She
began to put the box back and stopped. There was a baseball… She
sifted through the memories trying to place it. Where was the
baseball? It was important somehow. She shoved the box back up into
the closet.
“ Laura, do you know where
her baseball is?”
Laura looked at her in shock, with a
little guilt she shook her head. “How… how…”
Clear looked at Laura hard. “You threw
it away right after he left. You thought that was the end of it,
but she fished it out of the dumpster that night and hid it away so
you wouldn’t get rid of it again.” Clear sat on the bed and looked
around again.
“ How is this significant?”
Grant asked.
“ I.. don’t quite
know…something…” She put her hands to her head and closed her eyes.
Her head was starting to ache. “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I just…
Well, I need to lie down.”
Grant looked at her a bit surprised
and a little worried.
“ Oh, that’s all you have
up your sleeve?” Laura muttered. “Nothing else to
share?”
Clear glowered at her, her head
beginning to throb. “I can’t tell you anything the police didn’t
already figure out and you already told Grant. She wasn’t taken
from here. She didn’t run away, but she was taken. I just don’t
know where she was taken from.”
Laura threw her hands up in the air.
“Then what have you been doing pawing through my
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