Chapter 6 - The Last Thing I Asked Emma To Fix
I called my mother that night.
Not to accuse.
I wanted one answer.
“Why was Emma doing payroll?”
Silence.
Then Diane said:
“Who told you?”
“Tessa.”
My mother sighed.
“That girl always resented us.”
“No.”
I stopped her.
“No character review. Why was Emma doing payroll?”
“She understood the software.”
“So did Dad.”
“Dad was dead.”
There it was.
Not cruelty.
Need.
Need can still take too much.
“How often?”
“Sometimes.”
“Mom.”
“Couple times a month.”
Tessa had said weekly near the end.
I didn't correct yet.
“Did you pay her?”
“She was my daughter.”
I stared at my wall.
“That isn't an answer.”
“No.”
My mother knew.
I continued:
“Did she ask you to stop?”
Silence.
“Mom.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Several times.”
My chest tightened.
“What did you do?”
“I tried.”
“How?”
“Asked less.”
“Did you?”
“I thought I did.”
I believed she believed that.
“What happened the week Emma disappeared?”
Diane was quiet.
The business had lost its largest client.
Payroll was short.
My mother needed to decide who got paid first.
She called Emma.
Emma refused to do it.
“She said I was making her responsible for ruining somebody's rent.”
I closed my eyes.
That sounded like Emma.
“What did you say?”
“That she was better at numbers.”
“That isn't why she refused.”
“I know.”
My mother’s voice hardened.
“I was scared too, Rachel.”
I almost responded.
Stopped.
She continued:
“Everybody talks like Emma was the only person under pressure.”
I sat on my bed.
Maybe that was true.
Pressure wasn't a contest.
“What did I do?”
Diane took time.
“You were trying to help me.”
Dangerous sentence.
“What did I do?”
“You called her.”
“Yes.”
“You told her I needed her home.”
“Yes.”
“More.”
My mother went quiet.
I remembered on my own.
I had sent Emma screenshots of Mom crying.
Not video.
Text messages.
Mom: I can't do this.
Mom: I don't understand why Emma hates me.
Mom: I gave everything to you girls.
I forwarded them.
Not because Mom asked.
Because I wanted Emma to see what her absence was doing.
I had turned my mother's distress into evidence.
“Did you know I sent those?”
“Yes.”
“Did you stop me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Diane's voice cracked.
“Because I wanted her to answer.”
There.
We had used each other.
My mother wanted Emma.
I wanted my mother stable.
Emma was the shortest path.
“What did Emma say at 2:14?”
Diane sighed.
“We've done this.”
“No.”
“You gave me the safe summary.”
“Rachel.”
“The actual words.”
My mother didn't answer.
I waited.
Eventually:
“She said, ‘Mom, I am safe.’”
I closed my eyes.
“Then?”
“‘I am leaving because I want to leave.’”
My throat tightened.
“Then?”
Diane began crying quietly.
I let her.
“‘Do not call Rachel.’”
That hurt.
“What else?”
“She said, ‘Do not report me missing.’”
The room disappeared.
I stared at nothing.
My mother continued:
“I asked where she was.”
“What did she say?”
“That it didn't matter.”
“Did she say somebody was with her?”
“No.”
“Did she sound drugged?”
“No.”
“Threatened?”
“No.”
“Did you believe she was in immediate danger?”
My mother stopped.
“Mom.”
“I believed she was making a permanent decision while exhausted and angry.”
“That wasn't my question.”
“No.”
My eyes burned.
“You knew she was alive.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she left by choice.”
“She said that.”
“You told me she vanished without calling.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Diane was crying harder now.
“Because I knew what you'd do if you thought she chose to leave.”
I went completely still.
“What?”
“You would stop looking.”
I stared.
My mother whispered:
“I couldn't.”
There it was.
The search had not only been about finding Emma.
May you like
It had been a way for Diane to reject Emma's decision.
And she had recruited me into it because she knew I would search harder for a missing sister than for one who had said goodbye.
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