"I concluded the blue liquid in the vials must have been some sort of medication. But it clearly wasn't prescribed by a doctor, and there were no identifying tags or names on the vials themselves. Whatever it was, it wasn't something that wanted to advertise itself. Maybe it was something only the owner of it could recognize and identify. However, I wasn't going to give up that easy."
Sarah's voice got faster as she spoke these last few sentences, like she was trying to outrun listening ears. She twisted her hands in the long sleeves of her shirt and shifted in her seat. She was already leaning forward towards me, as if hoping our bodies could keep the conversation from being heard by those around us.
I could see the pain in Sarah's eyes and I knew, in my gut, that everything she was telling me was her truth. But my heart sunk when I realized that she likely had fewer answers than I did. It seemed as if she was plagued with even more questions and now a mysterious item that she couldn't ID. As painful as it was losing my daughter, I was immensely grateful that I only had one person to lose. My heart ached for Sarah, but I also worried that she was just someone driven mad by grief. Just like me.
"I know this sounds completely demented." She flushed, as if reading my thoughts on the matter, "But I swear this all happened, and I did discover what was in the vials eventually."
This intrigued me and I raised my eyebrows. Perhaps she was further along than I realized. I had expected her to tell me she hadn't found any answers, that the blue liquid was still siting in her house, unidentified, that her fainting spell was just from a rush of emotion. I was expecting a lot of things. What I wasn't expecting was for her to have answers.
My world had devolved into a series of unanswered questions and I had assumed Sarah was the same, but looking into her eyes now, I saw something there I hadn't seen before. Hope. Sarah still thought she could get her son back.
There was a long stretch of silence after I looked away from Sarah's eyes. I stared at the table, my eyes studying all the scratches, dents, and stains left behind by all of the people who had used this desk. This desk had a life, a story to tell, and I wondered how many secrets had been passed around it. What would this desk tell me about the world, if it could tell me anything? How many conversations like this one have transpired within its waiting ears?
Sarah had the answer. I could feel it in my bones. She knew why her husband had died and her son was taken away from her and she may even know why my daughter was taken. My daughter, who wasn't even going to have a person to call her father, was taken from me, for some reason I had spent years trying to unveil and here I was. Finally in the presence of someone who could tell me the truth. And I was doubting her sanity. I forced myself to look away from the stories the table had to tell me and I met her eyes.
She didn't say anything.
"So..." I held out the word, giving her all the chances I could to speak up again. Say something. Anything. Please.
But she was stoic. She pressed her lips into a thin line and looked away from my gaze. Her hands twisted together, telling all of her worry in the lacing and unlacing of her fingers.
"Are you going to tell me?"
"I...can't." She hesitated when she spoke. Then she took in a deep breath before continuing, "We need to talk somewhere private. Like my apartment, or yours. Somewhere I know is safe. I was hoping I could meet you here so you could see I'm not an axe murderer or something. But the rest of the story...it's a big secret. I can't tell you. Not here. Not now. It would put us in way too much danger."
While I appreciated the fact that I wasn't the only one worried about axe murderers, I was hesitant to agree with these circumstances nonetheless. What could possibly exist that was so valuable, she couldn't even discuss it in a semi-private setting? Was anything worth protecting that much? I had a tough time imagining a secret so large, let alone what it would have to do with my child and my life. But then again, I also couldn't imagine what reason they could have for taking her away. Maybe I was just bad at imagining important things.
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