Still Missing

of them was of me in a bikini.

Mom said, 'Annie, you really need to think about this. You don't have the luxury of time.' Her face was concerned. 'You never went to college or university. Sales is just about all you can do, but try selling anything now--all people see when they look at you is a rape victim. And bookkeeping for Luke? How long is that going to last?'

I remembered a call a few days back from a movie producer. Before I could hang up on her she said, 'I know you must be sick of people bothering you, but I promise if you just take a few minutes to hear me out, and you still say no, I'll never call again.' Something about her no-bullshit tone of voice connected with me, so I told her to go ahead.

She gave me her pitch on how I could set the record straight and my story could benefit women all over the world. Then she said, 'What's holding you back? Maybe if you tell me what you're afraid of I can see what we could do.'

'Sorry, you can talk, but sharing my reasons wasn't part of the bargain.'

So she talked, and it was like she knew exactly what I was worried about and what I wanted to hear--she even told me I could have final script and actor approval. And she said the money could set me up for life.

I said, 'It's still a no, but if anything changes, I'll call you first.'

'I hope you do, but I hope you also understand that there's a time limit to this offer....'

She was right, and Mom was right. If I waited much longer I was going to be a hell of a lot more than a day late and a dollar short. But I wasn't sure what was worse, going down in a ball of flames like Mom predicted, or actually taking her advice.

Mom looked away from the TV and took another slug of wine. I said, 'Did you give a movie producer my number?'

She paused with her glass in midair and her forehead wrinkled. 'Did someone call you?'

'Yeah, that's why I'm asking. My number's unlisted.'

She shrugged. 'Those people have ways.'

'Don't talk to any of them, Mom. Please.' We held eyes for a moment, then she let her head fall to rest on the back of my couch.

'I know I was hard on you girls, but it was only because I wanted more for you than I'd had.' I waited for her to say more, but she just gestured to the TV with her hand holding the glass. 'Do you remember when I let you and Daisy stay up late to watch that?' Now I realized she'd been staring at a preview for Gone with the Wind--one of her favorite movies.

'Sure. You stayed up with us and we all slept in the living room.'

She smiled at the memory, but her face was sad. It turned thoughtful as she turned to look at me. 'It's on in an hour. I could stay over tonight, if you're sick?'

'Oh, I don't know, I've been getting up around seven and going for a run, you--' She turned back to the TV. The sudden withdrawal of her attention hurt more than I care to admit. 'Okay, sure, it might be nice to have some company, probably stupid to run feeling like this anyway.'

She gave me a smile and patted my foot under the blanket. 'Then I'll stay, Annie Bear.' She dragged the cushions off the other couch and started building a bed in the middle of the living room floor. When she asked me where I kept my spare blankets, her cheeks pink with excitement, I figured what the hell. Beats another night lying awake in the hall closet thinking, Why didn't the burglar take anything?

Later that night, after Mom sent Wayne home when he stopped by to pick her up, after we'd eaten popcorn, Annie Bear cookies, and ice cream while watching Gone with the Wind, Mom passed out with her small body pressed against my back and her knees tucked into the curve of mine. As her breath tickled my back and her arm lay over me, I stared at her tiny hand touching my skin and realized it was the first time I'd let anyone physically close to me since I came back from the mountain. I turned my face away so she wouldn't feel my tears against her arm.

Just thinking, Doc, every time I say something bad about Mom, I have this urge to list all her good qualities right after--my version of knocking on wood. And the thing is, Mom isn't all bad, but that's the problem. It would be easier if I could just hate her, because it's the rare times when she's loving that make the other times so much harder.

SESSION EIGHTEEN

On my way to your office I walked by a bulletin board, and a concert poster caught my eye. I was checking out the announcement, just about to take a sip of my coffee, when I noticed part of a different flyer underneath the poster. Something about it seemed familiar, so I pulled it out. And holy shit, Doc, it was a flyer with my face on it--my face--over the words Missing Realtor. I just kept staring, and until a drop landed on my hand, I wasn't even aware I was crying.

Maybe I should put up my own flyers: Still Missing. That smiling face belonged to the woman I used to be, not the woman I am now. Luke must have given them the photo--he snapped it on our first Christmas morning together. He'd just handed me a beautiful card and I was grinning up at him, all happy and shit. My hand shook like I was holding ice instead of warm coffee.

The flyer is stuffed in the garbage can outside your office now, but I still have the urge to go back and pull it out. God knows what I'd do with it.

Now that the shock of seeing my picture's worn off, I really want to talk about what happened when I finally sat down and made a list of all the people in my life like you suggested. Yes, Fraulein Freud, I actually gave one of your ideas a whirl. Shit, I had to do something--couldn't keep sitting around freaking myself out over the break- in.

My internal scare-yourself-silly sound track goes a little something like this: My car was in the driveway, so the burglar must have seen me leave with Emma. How long had he been watching the house? Days, week, months, still? What if it wasn't a burglar?

Then I spend the next hour telling myself I'm an idiot--the cops are right, it was just a random event, a stupid burglar who got freaked by the alarm. But then the whispers start up again. Someone's watching you right now. The second you relax he's going to get you. You can't trust anyone.

Like I said, I had to do something.

Starting with the ones closest to me--Luke, Christina, Mom, Wayne, any family like Tamara, her brother Jason, Aunt Val, and her husband Mark--I made a column beside each one for any reasons they might want to hurt me, feeling like a complete idiot because of course there's nothing to put there.

Next I moved down the list to anyone else I might have pissed off--former clients, coworkers, ex-boyfriends. I've never been sued, the only Realtor who might've had an issue with me is the 'mystery' Realtor competing against me for that project back when I was abducted, and although I've broken the odd heart, I never did anything deserving of revenge so long after the fact. Even wrote down the names of a couple of Luke's exes--one was still hung up on him when we started dating, but hell, she moved to Europe before I was even abducted. I put The Freak down too, then wrote 'dead' by his name.

I sat at my table, staring at this ridiculous list with its got-a-listing-they-wanted, didn't-return-their-call, didn't-sell-their-house-fast-enough, kept-one-of-his-CDs notes in the column, and when I tried to imagine any of these people lurking outside my house or breaking in so they could 'get' me, I shook my head at my craziness.

Of course it was just a burglar, probably some junkie teenager looking to buy his next fix, and he's not going to come back now that he knows I have an alarm.

Man, as silly as I felt making that list, I'm glad I did. Even got a good night's sleep in my bed that night. By the time Luke came over Saturday afternoon to set up that bookkeeping software, I was as ready as I was ever going to be.

Aiming for casual but not sloppy, I'd rummaged through the box of clothes from Christina and found some beige cargo pants and a periwinkle-blue T-shirt. Part of me wanted to throw on a jogging suit and mess up my house again, but when I looked in the mirror I didn't mind what I saw.

I still haven't gotten around to having my hair cut, so I just washed it and pulled it back. I've finally gained a bit of weight--never thought I'd think that was a good thing--and my face has filled out.

I debated putting on makeup--Mom brought me a bag of cosmetics in the hospital--but none of it was colors