Clara is finally going to hear more about her mom’s fate, but will she like what she learns?

Continued from Episode 4

Clara sat impatiently on the couch in the living room as her grandma bustled around in the kitchen. She had insisted, as always, on making tea before they talked. In any other situation Clara would have been more patient — her grandma’s tea was worth the wait. But this wasn’t any other situation. Clara had come here for answers, and when her grandma said they had things they needed to talk about, Clara had been ready then and there to hear it.

But she had experienced no such luck. Her grandma had left her to wait and before long, her dad had returned from putting her bag away to engage in his own special brand of a non-staring contest. He had sat on the other end of the couch and not said so much as a word.

Clara knew that there were plenty of words he probably wanted to say. The last time they had spoken she hadn’t given him much of a hint about what she would do next, partially because she hadn’t known then either. As they sat in silence, the hum of her grandma’s kitchen tasks in the background, part of Clara wanted to blurt out something, anything, to alleviate the obvious tension. She wanted to tell him that she had kept her promise, that she had been careful. Her dad didn’t ask for much from her, but when he did, she usually obeyed.

But she had no obligation to obey, she reminded herself. It was her life and she could choose how to live it. And if he had a problem with that then he —

“Clara?” her dad’s soft voice snapped her back into the room.

She turned and saw that he was now looking at her, with an apologetic expression on his face.

“Yeah, Dad?” she responded, taken aback.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry for how things went on your birthday. I should’ve told you sooner.”

Clara didn’t know what to say back. She hadn’t expected him to apologize so easily, especially since she hadn’t done as he’d asked.

Finally she managed to say, “Thanks, Dad, that means a lot.”

She meant that. Her dad was stubborn and he didn’t like to admit when he was wrong (even when it was clear to everyone else in the room). His apology lifted a small weight she hadn’t realized she had been carrying, and she immediately felt more at ease.

It was then that her grandma finally returned, carefully balancing the three cups of tea in her hands. Clara thanked her as she took the warm ceramic into her palms and smelled the familiar scent wafting up to her nose. Her grandma sat in the recliner opposite of her, and now, tea in hand, was ready to get down to business.

Without Clara even needing to say a word, she launched into what would turn out to be a history spanning multiple generations.

“When I was a girl, from as early as I can remember, my mother was crazy. I don’t mean that figuratively. I guess the better way to say it is that she was mentally ill. But back then, there weren’t as many resources for that kind of thing, and even if there were, I don’t know if my dad would’ve used them.

“My dad was a private man, and a hard worker. He didn’t like to let anyone know that we were struggling at home. So even though it may have been easier for him to send her away, he kept my mom home and locked her away for the most part. We had an aide, Marianne, and she would come every day to take care of my mom.

“Mom was a beautiful woman, she had the prettiest hair and eyes and when she did smile it was the most lovely thing in the world. I wanted more than anything for her to hold me in her arms, and to talk to me like other girls’ mothers spoke to them. But she couldn’t. You could stand right in front of her and she’d look straight past you like you weren’t even there. She rarely spoke, but when she did you couldn’t understand a thing she was saying. In spite of it all, I loved her dearly.

“My dad was a different story. I think deep down he was hurt and sad because the woman he loved had slipped away right in front of him. But on the outside, it was hard for me to believe that he had ever loved her at all. He could hardly look at her, and he didn’t like it when we kids would spend time in her room with her.

“You see, Clara, my mom’s mom was adopted. She had the same abilities you have now, but she didn’t realize it was hereditary. My mom didn’t know that she would have it, too. She got married young, and by the time she turned twenty-one she already had two kids, with a third one on the way: my youngest brother, Max. My older brother and I were only toddlers then, too young to remember what happened next. But within a year or so of her twenty-first birthday, my mother went mad.

“I still don’t know what drove her to it, if she couldn’t take it or if there were just too many ghosts in Merill — even back then it was such a big city. My grandma had always managed it fine, but seeing what happened to her daughter broke her. She blamed herself for not doing more to prepare her for it. Once they realized it was hereditary, my dad and grandma became very overprotective of me.

“My dad called it my mom’s curse, and my whole life he told me that if I wasn’t careful, I’d end up just like her. Eventually, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I ran away when I was seventeen. I’ve always regretted that part. My mom got sick a few years later and I never got to see her again. Part of me wonders if she might have survived if I were there to take care of her. And maybe she could’ve even got better mentally, eventually.

“You see, Clara, the ability you have can only exist in one person at a time, at least as much as I’ve seen. When my mom turned twenty-one, my grandma stopped seeing ghosts, and when your mom turned twenty-one, I stopped seeing them, too. Maybe if my mom had lived long enough to be free from what haunted her, she could’ve come back…

“Anyways, when I left, I was determined not to face the same fate my mother had. I went as far as I could from Merill and ended up in Clarence Beach. That was where I met your grandfather. I wasn’t sure if I would ever get married; I was so afraid of what would happen once I turned twenty-one. But we fell in love. I told him all about my family and my mother and he was just so understanding about it all. We got married and decided that we were all that we needed. Kids weren’t worth the risk.

“But then I turned twenty-one and it was almost like nothing changed. Clarence Beach was so small, so very little happened there. I realized that I could live the life that I had always wanted for myself. Your grandpa and I decided to expand our family and that’s when we had your mom, aunt, and uncles. I saw a ghost or two every now and then when we went on vacation, but I felt safe. I wasn’t afraid of becoming like my mother anymore.

“I wanted to raise your mom differently than I had been raised. I didn’t want her to be afraid of what she would be able to do. I told her about my mom and what happened to her but I also told her that it was possible for her to be safe. She could have a good life in Clarence Beach and not risk losing herself. But she wanted more than the quiet life I imagined for her.

“When she was old enough, she moved away and came to Greenfield. I didn’t like it but Greenfield wasn’t that much bigger than Clarence Beach. When she turned twenty-one, everything was fine. She told me that she saw ghosts occasionally, but often they were just victims of accidents, they weren’t looking to be seen, to be given justice. A few asked her to send messages to their loved ones, and she found ways to do it anonymously.

“I think she liked it that way. She thought of her abilities differently than I did; they were a gift to her. I don’t think she ever could’ve stayed in Clarence Beach like I did. And that was fine, at least for a while. She met your dad, they got married, and before long you came along. She decided the day you were born that she wanted to wait until you were older to tell you about her abilities. She didn’t want you to grow up with that hanging over your head. You guys had a good life and she was happy. And I was happy for her, too. After all the pain I grew up with, seeing her happy felt like the ultimate redemption for our family.

“But the happiness didn’t last. One day, a serial killer moved to Greenfield. His name was George Dyers. He’d been moving all over the country for years, committing murders then escaping to a different state, using different names, anything he could to avoid getting caught.

“The first time your mother saw George Dyers was in the supermarket. One minute the store was nearly empty, the next it was full of ghosts. Your mother had never seen anything like it, I doubt anyone had. It didn’t take her long to figure out what was going on — the ghosts were all too happy to share their stories. She told your father that very day that she was going to be the person who got George Dyers arrested. He was horrified.

“He told me what she said and we both tried to talk her out of it, Dyers was a dangerous person. But she had a plan. She wasn’t going to let a single one of his murders go unnoticed. Every day for two weeks she followed him at a distance and would interview each of the ghosts that swarmed in his wake. She wrote down their names, where they were killed, how they were killed. She became obsessed.

“Once she had it all, she took it straight to the police. We begged her not to bring it herself, but she had already made up her mind. At first, they thought she was crazy. But as the details started to line up, they began to question how she had figured it all out. You were so young then, we shielded it from you as best as we could, but for a few weeks your mother was a suspect along with George Dyers.

“Obviously there was no way that she could have done all of the murders since she was living in Greenfield, but they couldn’t think of any other way she would know all that she did. And she couldn’t give them a solid answer as to how she knew it. She didn’t want to reveal what she could do, but eventually it was either tell the truth or be arrested.

“So she told them that she could see ghosts. She wasn’t sure if they would even believe her — but then they did. They let her go and arrested George Dyers. She didn’t understand why they didn’t question her anymore. But a few weeks later, the consequence of her confession showed up on her doorstep.

“It was a man. He said his last name was Miller and he worked for some very powerful people. He told your mom they’d pay her a lot of money to come work for them. She said no, she didn’t trust him and she wasn’t going to leave you or your dad behind to go with him. But Miller was persistent, he kept visiting, calling, sending letters. For a while, we were worried that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. But eventually he did, and your mom thought she could move past it all.

“She died two months later in the car crash. We were all devastated, you most of all. But pretty soon we realized things weren’t adding up. The investigators told us it was black ice that forced her off of the road, but that didn’t match the weather conditions that night. And one of the tires was badly damaged. They said it happened during the crash, but their explanations just didn’t make sense. We couldn’t prove it, but we knew what had actually happened: Miller had come back for her. If they couldn’t have her, nobody could.

“We agreed that we would honor your mother’s wish to wait until you were older to tell you, especially since we then knew how dangerous knowing the truth could be. I wanted to tell you when you turned eighteen, but your dad kept saying to wait a bit longer. I shouldn’t have listened to him, I’m sorry.”

Clara was in shock. She had sat through her grandma’s whole story without saying a word but her mind was swimming with questions. Who did Miller work for? Did he know the powers were hereditary? How had she never known about George Dyers? Why had they kept this from her for so long?

Finally, she said the only word that could sum up how she was feeling, “Wow.”

Clara’s grandma got up from her recliner and moved to sit next to Clara, laying her arm across Clara’s shoulders.

“I know this must be a lot to take in. I’m sorry we waited so long to tell you. I know this must be hard.”

“Hard?” Clara’s eyes began to water. “I don’t even know what to think about all of this. How could I have gone my whole life not knowing any of this?”

Clara’s dad reached his hand out to grasp Clara’s. There were tears in his eyes, too. “We didn’t want you to have to carry this all. Your mother never said how long she wanted to wait to tell you, and when she died, things got even more complicated.”

Clara’s grandma added, “We still don’t know the full story of who Miller was or what they wanted to use her for. For a long time, we didn’t even feel safe talking about the family abilities in private, let alone telling you.”

“What if they find out about me, too? What if I get caught somehow and they come for me?” Clara sniffled.

“Shh, that’s not going to happen.” Clara’s grandma rubbed her back comfortingly. “We don’t even know if Miller’s people are still around, and even if they were, there’s no way they would know about you. You’re going to be okay.”

“How can you know that?” Clara whimpered. “How can you know that I’m going to be okay?” A few days ago, Clara had felt safe. Now, it seemed like she was one mistake away from having her world come crashing down.

Clara’s grandma pulled her closer and ran her gentle hand down the side of Clara’s head as she sighed, “I know this is all very scary. What you can do has a lot of downsides, but you still have control over how you live your life. This was always going to be your cross to bear, Clara, now you can at least figure out how you wish to bear it.”

“My cross to bear?” Clara asked.

“Yes, it’s a burden that you have to carry with you, but it’s up to you to figure out how. You can bear it with fear, anger, uncertainty, or you can choose to bear it with joy, hope, love.”

“How can I bear it with joy? With hope? Love?”

“You know, Clara, I think that’s a question you are going to have to answer yourself. But not right away, and definitely not tonight. We should all get some rest, we can talk more tomorrow, okay?”

Clara sniffed and wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve. It had gotten late as they talked, and though her mind was still racing with thoughts, she felt exhausted.

“Okay,” she agreed, and gave her grandma a big hug. She then stood and looked to her dad. He rose and she gave him a hug, too. He sniffled as they embraced. Clara was beginning to understand him a bit more than before.

The three of them shuffled off to bed, and the day came to a quiet end.

— Thanks for reading, stay tuned for the next episode! —

Clara is reeling from the events of her birthday and must figure out what to do next.

Continued from Episode 3

It had been three days since Clara called the anonymous police tip line. She hadn’t had much to share with them besides a name, but she had to hope that a name would be enough to get justice for Amber Evans.

Yet three days had passed uneventfully, with no updates about the case from the police department and no news about Amber’s killer, Doug Hershire. In those three days, Clara hadn’t left her apartment. She had barely even left her room, except for food and the bathroom. By now, she was running low on cereal and frozen dinners, but she was terrified by the possibility of going to the store and seeing another ghost.

In the meantime, she herself had become like a ghost to her roommates. She slept through much of the days and was kept awake at night by the hurricane of thoughts which had finally caught up with her.

So many things she thought she knew about herself and about her family were absolutely false. She had a power — the ability to see ghosts — and in seeing them, she could find out who their killer was. Her mom had once had the same ability, and it had gotten her killed.

Killed.

Clara had never used the word “killed” to describe what happened to her mother before. “Killed” seemed to assign blame. She would never have said that black ice on a snowy road “killed” her mother.

But if not black ice then what? Or rather, who? Her dad hadn’t been clear when she talked to him the night of her birthday. All he had said was that her mom got caught up with the wrong people and her death wasn’t a freak accident. But what did that even mean?

Who were these people that her mom had been involved with? Had they intentionally killed her? How could they get away with that? She had seen it with her own eyes, the image of the totaled car was permanently seared into her memory. Had it all been a lie?

Clara knew she couldn’t go on like this. She was behind on all of her homework. Her only distraction from her intruding thoughts was her constant checking of all of the local news sources. But for three days there had been nothing. So she decided it was time for her to do something.

She didn’t know what. She was in no state to plan ahead. But she couldn’t bear another day of waiting for news that didn’t come, or another night of unanswered questions.

In Clara’s mind there were two issues she needed to resolve. She had to make sure that Doug Hershire was caught, and she had to figure out more about what had actually happened to her mom.

She badly wanted to choose the former option. Helping Amber was less personal, with fewer unknowns. However, she had no idea how to go about that, aside from tracking down Doug so she could get more information from Amber. But she had promised her dad that she would be careful. Going after a murderer was nowhere near the realm of careful.

So Clara was left with the latter choice: learning more about her mom’s death. To do that, she would have to talk to her dad and grandma, and something told her that this wasn’t the type of conversation they could have over the phone. Which meant she’d have to brave the outside world and the three hour drive to get home. She could manage that.

Once the decision was made, Clara wasted no time. She texted her dad to let him know she was coming home and quickly packed a bag. She had no idea how long she would be gone, so she just grabbed clothes and shoved them in until the bag was full. By the time she was done her dad had responded.

“Okay. See you soon. Drive safe.”

The message seemed slightly plain considering the seriousness of their last conversation, but it wasn’t like him to be wordy over text.

Telling her dad her plan to go home had been easy, but telling her roommates would be a bit more difficult. Clara threw her bag over her shoulder and walked out to the living room. Sasha and Jenn were both there, sitting on the couch studying. As she walked in they both looked up.

“Hey,” Clara began.

“Hey…” Jenn replied warily, shooting a sidelong glance at Sasha.

“What’s that?” Sasha asked, tilting her head as she looked at Clara’s bag.

“Just some stuff,” Clara responded. “I’m going to go home for a bit.”

At this, Jenn stood. “Is everything okay?”

Clara sensed she’d been wanting to ask that question for a while now. She hadn’t talked to her roommates much during her three days of solitude, but she could feel the tension in the air during each of her brief excursions outside of her room.

She knew her roommates well enough to predict what had happened while she was in hiding: Jenn had told Sasha about Clara’s dad visiting, Sasha had noticed Clara keeping to herself and warned Jenn to give her time, and Jenn had since been waiting, biding her time, and slowly running out of patience.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Clara lied. “I just have to take care of some stuff.”

“What stuff?” Sasha looked concerned.

“Just family stuff, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Clara could see the concern grow in Sasha’s face. Sasha had always given Clara space when it came to her family. She came from a complicated background, too, and knew what it was like to want to leave the past in the past.

But there were limits to how much space she was willing to give to someone she cared about. Clara could tell that Sasha was hurt by the fact that she could be going through so much and choose to share so little.

“I’ll tell you more when I’m back, I promise,” Clara added.

She immediately regretted using the word “promise” instead of something less committal. Her dad had told her not to tell anyone about her abilities and she didn’t want to have to make up a lie to tell Sasha and Jenn. But that was a problem she didn’t have to figure out until she got back.

Clara’s promise to tell them more later didn’t seem to put them at ease, but it was at least enough to get them to stop asking questions. She gave them both parting hugs and then was out of the apartment and on her way.

She had to drive past campus to leave town, and also past the police station which was located just down the road. The bustling school was a strange sight for her to have on her drive home. Usually, she only went home before holiday breaks, when the campus was deserted with most students either already home, holed up in their apartments, or off celebrating the end of the term. This time, she was the only one taking a break, a concept which didn’t thrill her.

As she left the school behind and approached the police station she was met by a sharp contrast. There was very little activity, just a few officers chatting outside by a small cluster of cars. Nothing about the scene suggested that they were any closer to solving Amber’s case.

Clara tried not to think about Amber as she passed by. She felt bad for leaving before making sure that Amber got justice. She knew it would be dangerous to assist the police any more than she already had, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was her responsibility to help. It felt like she was the only person in the world who could do that, and leaving town made her feel like she was abandoning Amber.

But Clara had to take care of herself first and figure out what it meant to have this ability, and what the consequences could be if she used them any more than she already had.

Once she had made her way through town, she got onto the highway, and from there it was smooth sailing. Clara was relieved to finally be out of her room. As the distance between her and the school grew, her problems seemed to grow farther away as well. The drive home always relaxed her, but this particular trip was even more of a relief. The highway weaved through rolling hills and croplands that stretched for miles, with no possibility of ghosts or murderers.

Unfortunately, each mile away from school was also a mile closer to home. Clara had made the snap decision to go home because she knew she needed answers to at least some of her burning questions, but they were all questions that she was afraid to ask and terrified to find out the answers to. What if her dad was right? What if she was in danger?

Part of her thought about turning around, but she knew she couldn’t run from the truth forever. She tried to calm her mind by thinking about her grandma instead, who she would get to see in a few short hours.

Clara’s mom’s mom was one of her favorite people in the world. Clara had spent countless summer vacations visiting her back when her grandfather was still alive and the two of them lived in a small house in a beach town two hours from where Clara’s family lived.

Her grandma had always seemed to be somewhat of a recluse, but when Clara visited, she would make a point of taking her all over town. They would browse the candy shop and get ice cream, then walk down to the beach and build sandcastles for the small hermit crabs to live in. Some of Clara’s best childhood memories were visits to her grandparents’ house.

When Clara’s grandpa died, her grandma originally wanted to stay at her own house. But eventually she and Clara’s dad decided it would be better for her to move in with him. By then, Clara was already away at school, so it was just the two of them living together.

Clara loved being able to see her grandma every time she went home, but she worried about the dynamic between her grandmother and father. They both had a tendency to keep to themselves, and although she knew they loved each other, there always seemed to be some unaddressed tension between them. Clara now wondered if this, too, had to do with her mother’s abilities.

Always more questions, but how many answers will I get? Clara was still pondering this when she pulled up to her dad’s house. Technically, it was her house too, if she ever decided to come back after college. But it didn’t feel like her home. They had moved after her mom died and something about the new house didn’t sit right with Clara. She had happy memories here, but they all felt slightly tainted.

As she turned off her car and stepped out, the front door opened and her dad came out. She imagined that he had been waiting for her to arrive.

“Hey, how was your drive?” he asked cordially.

“It was good. No traffic.”

Clara pulled her bag out of the trunk and slung it over her shoulder, then locked her car and went to give her dad a hug. They stood in this silent embrace for a few moments, then they separated and he invited her inside.

Clara’s dad appeared to be nonchalant, but she could tell he was on edge. When last they spoke she hadn’t told him what she was going to do, only that she couldn’t ignore what Amber had asked of her. He was worried about what had happened and why she had come home, but he didn’t want to risk setting her off again.

He took her bag from her and gestured for her to sit on the living room couch. Clara’s grandma had moved into her old room, so when she visited she stayed in the guestroom. With the short notice she had given, she doubted the guestroom was ready for her; her grandma had a tendency to be a bit messy and while Clara was gone, she used the room as a workshop for her various crafts.

Her dad had disappeared down the hallway and she heard a muffled exclamation from the other side of the house, “She’s here already?! Why didn’t you tell me?!” There was a sound of hurried steps in the hallway then Clara’s grandma appeared.

The moment they locked eyes all of the anxiety she had been feeling the past three days evaporated away. Wide smiles stretched across both of their faces as Clara leapt up from the couch and gave her grandma a big hug.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you!” Clara beamed.

“I’m happy to see you, too,” her grandma replied. “It’s been too long.”

Clara’s grandma pulled away then rested her hands squarely on Clara’s shoulders.

“Now, I think we have some things to talk about, don’t we?”

— Thanks for reading, check out Episode 5 here!—

I am not very good at the concept of moderation.

For me, it can be really hard not to use an all-or-nothing approach for most areas of my life.

I want to eat healthily all of the time. Any unhealthy food can be replaced with something that will better nourish me.

I want to stay as physically fit as possible. If I am taking the time to go for a run then I should push myself to go farther, faster. And I should try to go for another run a few days after. Get into a routine, continue to improve.

I want to always have a positive outlook on life. There is no need to focus on the negative. In fact, focusing on the negative can be counterproductive, it can hold me back.

These are all paths I have gone down, usually without thinking much about them until I begin to feel strained. Because although my initial intentions may have been good, the result was draining to me. These thought patterns left little room for error. If I wasn’t fully meeting these goals, was I failing?

The answer to this is that I was failing. I was failing myself by holding myself to a standard that was unattainable for me, and could actually be harmful.

It is okay to eat unhealthy foods. A bowl of chocolate ice cream may not have much nutritional value, but it won’t cause me to become malnourished. (And quite frankly, any form of chocolate will definitely nourish my soul even if it doesn’t do much for my body.)

It is okay to not exercise every other day, or push yourself to an ever-higher standard. I may never become an Olympic-caliber athlete, but I will keep my heart, lungs, and limbs healthy.

It is okay to reflect on negative feelings and events. It may slow me down or distract me from other things, but it is healthy to process my emotions, and doing so can help me grow in other ways.

I am not very good at the concept of moderation.

But I am trying to be better.

Because I know that life is better when I give myself room to breathe, to slow down, to take care of all areas of my needs, and to be “imperfect” in ways that give me valuable rest.

Why do I say most things in moderation instead of all things?

Because I know that there are some things I don’t need, and some boundaries that I should keep for myself.

I never want to hate in moderation, because love is always better, even if it’s imperfect.

I never want to compare myself to others in moderation, because I know myself and I know that I’m at my best when I can appreciate others for who they are without viewing myself as less.

And I never want to eat mushrooms in moderation, because my late father once told me that he thought they could take over the world, and part of me still believes him.

Clara’s birthday is almost over, but there’s still one more surprise left for her.

Continued from Episode 2

Clara’s eyes met those of the man watching them from across the street. It was hard to see his features in the dark, but his car was unmistakable.

“It’s fine,” she sighed to Jenn. “That’s my dad. You go inside, I’ll be in soon.”

Jenn looked confused, but luckily she saved whatever questions she had for later. She let go of Clara’s arm and hurried off towards the apartment. Clara was confused too. Her dad hadn’t been to her apartment since he helped her move in. And it wasn’t like him to drive three hours to see her without a good reason.

“Hey…” Clara began as she walked across the street to meet him. “Is everything okay? What are you doing here?”

“Hey Clara, happy birthday,” he replied with a weak smile. “Do you have a minute? There’s something I really need to talk to you about. I -uh, I had hoped you’d be able to come home for this but… yeah, here I am.” He opened the passenger door of the car as he spoke and gestured for her to get in.

“Uh, sure,” Clara replied after a moment, then got into the car and sat facing forward, her hands folded in her lap. Well I guess I know why he wanted me to come home, she thought as he closed the door and walked over to the driver’s side to get in. Why would he use my birthday as an excuse to talk to me about this, whatever it is?

What’s so important that he felt the need to use my birthday as an excuse to talk to me? Part of her felt hurt as she realized that he probably hadn’t even cared about celebrating her birthday with her, but why did she care if she didn’t even want to celebrate her birthday herself? She shook her head gently at the thought.

Clara’s dad closed the driver’s side door with unusual care, as if he were afraid to break it, then sat, also facing forward, and was silent for a minute.

“Did you have a good birthday?” he finally asked.

“Uh yeah, pretty good,” Clara looked down at her hands and examined her palms. There was no use telling him about her strange experience earlier that night. “So, uh, what did you want to talk to me about?”

Her dad exhaled deeply and brought his hand to his forehead. “Look, Clara, I know that you and I haven’t always… well things have been really tough since we lost your mom and I don’t always… you know... uh, handle things as well as she would. You know she was incredible, your mom, a remarkable woman.” His expression brightened a bit as he spoke about Clara’s mom and she smiled slightly.

He sighed then continued. “Look, there are things that were always really your mom’s job to explain to you, and now with her gone, I know she’d want me to explain them and… well the thing is, I probably should’ve explained these things years ago, but it’s just not really the kind of conversation I know how to have with you. And then you moved away for school and we just… you know? But I can’t put it off any longer now.” He said the last phrase firmly, as if he needed to remind himself.

Clara’s eyes had widened in alarm as he spoke. Things mom should’ve explained to me? Not the kind of conversation he knows how to have? Oh no does he mean the TALK? Please tell me he doesn’t think his twenty-one-year-old daughter needs the talk!

“Clara, things are going to change for you now.”

“Woah woah woah,” Clara interrupted, “Dad, I appreciate the effort but I’m pretty sure I went through the changes you’re talking about a looong time ago. The ship has sailed, we really don’t need to have this conversation.”

Now his eyes widened as he realized how she had interpreted his words. “Oh… oh! No no, not that conversation, Clara. We don’t have to talk about that.”

Clara was relieved but confused. “Then… what’s this all about? What changes am I going through?”

Her dad exhaled one more time, trying to gather his resolve fully to avoid any further miscommunications. The best he could do was quickly explain, “Clara your mom had... well, abilities. Let’s call them abilities. And now since you’re her daughter then you’ll also have these abilities. Because yeah, it’s uh, a family type of thing. That’s what it is, a family thing! And so you’re twenty-one now and that’s the age that you get these abilities, so yeah… um,” he trailed off, appearing unsure of how to continue, and his mouth hung open as if he knew that once he closed it he wouldn’t have the will to keep speaking.

By now Clara’s mouth was open too, hers in disbelief. “Sorry, abilities? What? Dad, what are you talking about? I don’t remember Mom having special abilities.”

“Well that’s because she never used them until...”

“Until?”

“Until she did. And then she got caught up with the wrong people and...” he sighed. “Clara, your mom didn’t die in a freak accident.”

“What? What do you mean...?” Clara froze. Not a freak accident? Impossible. She had been to the crash site. She had seen her mom’s mangled car. Only a monster would have done that to her mother on purpose. She decided she had heard enough. “I have to go,” she murmured, turning to grab the door handle. But her dad grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her towards him.

“It’s okay, Clara,” he looked straight at her even as she tried to turn away to hide the tears beginning to form, “that’s not going to happen to you. You can learn from her mistakes. You don’t have to let this thing rule over you.” He said the word “thing” with what seemed to be disgust and shook his head. “You can’t change what you can do but you can choose not to use it like she did.”

“What is it, Dad?” Clara’s voice was barely a whisper. She was horrified by the idea that the thing that had gotten her mother taken from her was an ability which she was now apparently going to get.

Her dad wrapped his arms around her stiffly and pulled her in close, resting his chin on her head. She imagined that it was easier for him to say what he said next without her looking at him. “I never fully understood it. She didn’t really like to talk about it,” he said quietly. “But I’ve talked to your grandma, about it, because she had it too, and uh...” He exhaled gently then pulled away so he could look directly at her.

“Ghosts,” he said singularly. “She could see ghosts. But only ones whose lives had been taken, and only when she was around the people who had taken those lives.”

If any other person had said those words to her she may not have believed them. She might have just written it all off as a joke, including the appearance of Amber Evans. But her dad wouldn’t make that kind of a joke, and he explained it so matter-of-factly that there was no room for misunderstanding.

Clara was speechless for a moment, and when she finally opened her mouth, all that came out was a laugh, small at first but then it grew bigger and began to morph into sobbing. Tears streamed down her face as she rocked back and forth in the seat of the sedan. Her dad couldn’t have known how she’d react to this news, but he definitely was not prepared for this particular situation.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he tried to reassure her, wrapping his arms around her once more. “If you play this right, you might not even ever have to see one. You can come home and we can figure something out. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I’ve just been so afraid.”

“It’s too late,” Clara sniffled.

“No it’s not too late, of course it’s not too late,” his arms tightened. “I’m so sorry, Clara. I’m so sorry I haven’t been there for you the way I should have, but I’m here now. I’m not going to lose you, too.”

“No but Dad, it’s too late, I’ve already seen a ghost.” Clara’s doubts about her earlier encounter were completely gone. Amber had been real, the whole thing had been real.

Her dad jerked himself away in surprise. “A ghost? Where?!” Clara was thrown off by the sudden shift in his demeanor. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him like this. His soft voice had taken on a harsher tone and his normally muted expression had contorted into a combination of anger, fear, and urgency.

“At this party earlier I — ”

“How’d you know it was a ghost?” he interrupted.

“I recognized her — ”

“Her? Was it a girl from your classes? Are you sure she wasn’t just a normal girl?”

“Dad!”

“Sorry,” he apologized. “Tell me.” He shut his mouth firmly and furrowed his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.

“It was this girl, Amber,” Clara pictured Amber’s haunting brown eyes as she spoke. “I knew she was dead because it’s been all over the news. I was just at her memorial earlier today. At first I thought I must have imagined seeing her but then she came and talked to me — ”

“Wait what? You talked to her? Clara, why would you do that?” His newfound tone had resurfaced.

“What do you mean why would I do that? It’s not like I wanted to, she just realized I could see her and she needed my help!” Clara was starting to get angry. It wasn’t her fault that Amber had approached her. Maybe if he had warned her sooner she could have been prepared for the situation.

“Help? What help? Clara you can’t get involved with these things it’ll only put you in danger — ”

“These things? She’s not a thing, she’s a person. And she just wanted me to help the police find the guy who killed her…” Clara trailed off as she remembered Amber’s request. She had to tell the police what she knew.

“Clara, listen,” her dad grabbed her hand gently. “You can’t tell anyone what you saw or what you know.” Clara opened her mouth to protest but he squeezed her hand tightly and quickly continued, “I get it, you can relate with her, she was a college student just like you. But now it’s too late for her. If you tell anyone about this you’ll only be putting yourself in danger. Please, Clara, just let the police do their job and keep this all to yourself, I can’t lose you, too.” By now his grip on her was like a vise.

Clara’s mind was a hurricane. She hadn’t even had time to process her new abilities and now he was asking her to pretend they didn’t exist at all? Swirling through her head was the new knowledge that her mom, too, had these abilities. Not only that, but her mom’s abilities had somehow gotten her killed? In the midst of this chaos was a single certainty in the hurricane’s eye: I have to help Amber.

She pulled her hand slowly away from her dad and looked down at her feet. She could feel his eyes boring into the side of her head. “I’m sorry, Dad,” she mumbled, “but I can’t just ignore it.” She reached for the door handle before he could protest and swiftly rose from the seat.

Before leaving she leaned down to look at him one last time. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful, I promise. And I’ll think about everything you said. I just need time.” He didn’t say a word, but nodded with a frown on his face. He could tell her mind was made up.

She turned and walked back across the street to the apartment complex and up the stairs to the second floor. She knew he was still watching her but she didn’t look back. She didn’t hesitate at all as she went into her apartment and walked straight to her room, closing the door behind her.

She didn’t bother turning on the lights, but simply went and sat in the corner of the room next to her closet. She pulled her knees to her chest and sat very still. The hurricane was pulling at her again. So she picked up her phone and looked up the number for the anonymous police tip line. Her fingers trembled as she dialed it and she hesitated before pressing the call button.

Once you call there’s no going back. What if your dad is right? For all you know, they could solve the case without you. But Clara knew she couldn’t just keep it to herself. Amber needed her help. No one would ever know it was her that called it in.

She pressed call and lifted the phone to her ear as it began to ring on the other end.

— Thanks for reading, check out Episode 4 here!—

Clara thinks she can avoid unwanted birthday surprises, but an unexpected encounter will prove her wrong.

Continued from Episode 1

The rest of the afternoon following the memorial was solemn. Once it had ended, all three of the girls headed back to the apartment and went to their individual rooms to do work, watch television, or scroll through their various social media feeds. Their moods gradually improved as the evening approached, and by the time they all emerged to have dinner their spirits had lifted in anticipation of Jeremy’s party.

As they ate and then got ready, Jenn pried and teased Sasha about Jeremy, the boy she had been talking to for a few weeks. Sasha didn’t offer much information about him in response, and distracted Jenn by mentioning that Jeremy had some pretty cute friends that would probably be there that night. By the time that they left to go to Jeremy’s, Jenn had already imagined (out loud, of course) seven different scenarios where she could get together with Jeremy’s friends, nearly all of which eventually led to her and Sasha going on double dates. Clara anticipated she’d spend most of the evening as Jenn’s wing-woman which she didn’t mind one bit. Jenn could get on Clara’s nerves sometimes with how much she talked, but at a party she was really in her element.

Sasha was right about Jeremy’s cute friends. Jenn smiled slyly at Clara as they walked in. They didn’t have many mutual friends with Jeremy but Clara noticed a few people from her classes were also there. They’d been there less than a minute before Jeremy welcomed them with shots, clearly aiming to play the part of a gentleman (in his own way at least) to Sasha’s roommates. They took the shot and Sasha muttered to Clara, “And there’s your birthday drink.”

“Phew, glad to have the birthday part over, now where are the rest?” Clara whispered back with a grin.

Jeremy pulled Sasha away to meet some of his friends, and Clara and Jenn set off to check out the rest of the party. Jeremy wasn’t in a frat, but it seemed like a lot of his guests were. Clara remembered Sasha mentioning that a few of his roommates were in a frat but she couldn’t remember which one. They walked out to the backyard and saw that there were more people there, and a few different games were running. They found some beers and then talked to a friend they had run into.

Before long, Sasha and Jeremy returned and he eagerly invited them all to go play a drinking game. It was fast-paced and Clara could hardly remember all of the different rules but she still had a great time. Jeremy was nice, she decided. She liked him for Sasha and she gave Sasha a meaningful look and approving nod as they made eye contact across the table.

A while passed as they all played, and in the excitement of the game, Clara lost track of how much she had drunk and realized suddenly that she really had to pee. She told Jenn she was going to find the bathroom then headed back towards the house. More people had gotten there after them and it was pretty packed inside. The combined noise of the music and voices was overpowering and Clara could hardly focus on any of the faces of the people she was passing by in the dimly lit, crowded rooms. But then a face across the room caught her attention.

It took her a moment to realize what about the face had caught her eye. It was a girl, and she seemed really sad. She surveyed the party around her as if she wasn’t a part of it, like she didn’t want to be there at all. Clara could relate; she’d been dragged to her fair share of parties that she wasn’t up for. But she hoped that she at least never showed her reluctance as openly as this girl.

But there was something else about her, some thought in Clara’s mind that was resting just below the surface, just close enough to frustrate her. It wasn’t until the girl’s scanning eyes met hers that she realized what the thought was. She knew this girl, she knew those eyes. A deep brown, with the warmth dulled but still there somewhere beneath the sadness. Amber Evans?

Oh no. I am drunk. I am very drunk. Clara’s eyes widened and so did Amber’s. She’s not there, she can’t be there. For a moment, Clara stood transfixed in the gaze of the girl who couldn’t possibly be Amber. She couldn’t bring herself to look away. Something about the way not-Amber was looking at her held her attention tightly. Why wasn’t she looking away either?

Clara couldn’t tell if it was a few seconds or a full minute before she managed to snap herself out of it and scurry towards the bathroom. She was very lucky in that no one was waiting in line to use it. She went to the sink and splashed water on her face, her urge to pee forgotten. “Hoooooo,” she exhaled, “Okay, Clara, you’re cut off you are definitely cut off.” A shiver travelled down her spine. She laughed, “Of course today would be the day that you start hallucinating. How could it possibly have been any other day?”

“Can you see me?!” The voice behind Clara made her jump. She whipped around and was instantly filled with dread. There she was. Was this real? Her long hair was tangled and matted. The dress she wore, likely once stylish, was torn and dirty. And her eyes, those deep brown orbs, were boring straight into Clara’s soul. Amber Evans. In the flesh, or at least in Clara’s mind.

Clara stood petrified, unsure of what to do. Should she scream for help? Was this just some strange drunken delusion? Had going to the memorial triggered some weird repressed trauma?

“You can see me, can’t you?” Amber pressed intensely, then seeming to realize Clara’s fear added quickly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” She lifted her hands up in a slight motion of surrender and took a small step back.

“…Amber?” Clara managed. This couldn’t really be Amber, it was impossible. But being face to face she couldn’t deny the resemblance. Did Amber have a sister? She didn’t remember seeing one at the memorial.

“You know who I am?” Amber lifted her hands to reach towards Clara but quickly pulled them back down to her sides as if she were afraid of scaring her away. “I’m sorry that I scared you, it’s just that no one else has been able to see me.”

Clara opened her mouth then closed it again and swallowed, “H-how is this possible? Aren’t you…?”

“Dead?” Amber finished when Clara’s voice gave out. She paused and turned her eyes downward with a look of despair then said in a low voice that was barely audible, “Uh yeah, I’m pretty sure that I am. Or at least mostly?” Amber paused with a look of confusion before meeting Clara’s gaze, “I don’t know, I guess I never thought much about what happened when you die. But I definitely wasn’t expecting this.”

“What do you mean, this? What exactly are you? Are you..” Clara lifted her hand slightly, then pulled it back, a bit too afraid to find out the answer.

“You can’t touch me,” Amber answered, “I guess the best way to describe me is a ghost.”

“A ghost?” Clara echoed. “Haunting a college party? Why?”

“I’m not haunting the party specifically,” Amber sighed, “Actually being here isn’t my choice at all.” Her eyes widened as if she had just made an important realization. “Wait! If you can see me that means you can help me!”

“Help you? How?” By now Clara felt sure that this couldn’t possibly be real. A ghost? No way. Had she passed out in the bathroom? Maybe she was still taking her afternoon nap, safely asleep in her room. Perhaps this was the part of the dream where she had to do some weird occult ritual to bring Amber back to life.

“I’m here because the guy who killed me is here. He is the only one I’m haunting and it’s not because I want to!” Amber stomped her foot as she spoke but it didn’t make a sound. “Ever since the moment I died I’ve been stuck with him and there’s nothing I can do about it and — ” Amber cut her sentence off with a gasp. “Oh no,” she groaned.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Clara felt relieved that Amber didn’t seem to want her to do anything strange, but was disturbed by the fact there might be a murderer somewhere in the crowded house just outside of the bathroom door.

“He’s leaving,” Amber groaned, beginning to slide backwards, “I can’t go too far from him or I’m just pulled back. Please, you have to help me.”

“How?!” Clara started to reach towards her then remembered that she couldn’t grab her to pull her back. Even if she could she doubted she’d be strong enough to overpower the invisible force dragging Amber backwards.

“You have to help the police find the guy who did this to me. Go to the cops. Tell them — ugh,” Amber slid back a few more inches and doubled over in pain. “His name,” she breathed, “is Doug Hershire. He’s a student here, too.” She met Clara’s gaze one last time and pleaded, “Please tell them.” Then she was flung backwards through the wall, which she easily glided through.

“Amber?!” Clara flung open the bathroom door in a panic and pushed through the crowd to the front door. But by the time she got there and looked out, there was no sign of Amber or her killer. It was just a normal quiet night, and as she caught her breath, the sounds of the party drifted back into her attention.

Clara’s head spun. Was that real? It felt real. It felt really real. But how is that possible? Ghosts aren’t real. What if there’s not even a Doug Hershire here? And why would I be the only one who could see her? None of this makes sense. I’m drunk. I have to get out of here.

Clara stumbled out to the backyard to find Sasha, Jeremy, and Jenn standing right where she left them, laughing and talking.

“Yikes,” Jenn laughed, “Rough bathroom trip? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Clara considered telling Jenn that yes, she had seen a ghost, and she was kind of freaking out about it, but she quickly decided against sharing that particular bit of information. Instead, she simply said, “I don’t feel so good, I think I should head home.”

“Okay…” Jenn replied slowly, looking concerned, “I’ll come with you.” She turned to Sasha, “Are you going to be alright getting home?”

Jeremy, whose arm was wrapped around Sasha’s shoulders, responded for her, “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

Jenn smiled politely at his offer but didn’t move a muscle until Sasha had given her a small nod. Then she grabbed Clara’s hand and pulled her back towards the house as they all said goodbye.

The walk back to their apartment felt shorter than the walk to the party, but the whole time Clara was on edge, looking off into the night. She shivered anytime they walked through a dark area where the street lights were out. Jenn was telling her all about how Jeremy had been just about to introduce her to one of his cute friends before they left.

Clara was hardly listening but she still felt comforted by the sound of Jenn’s voice. She imagined it protruding out into the night, pushing back any darkness that was coming their way. In the clear night air Clara started to feel more calm. You just had too much to drink it’s all going to be okay. But a small voice inside of her asked What if it was real? What about helping Amber?

Her thought was interrupted by Jenn’s rough grip on her arm, bringing her to a halt on the sidewalk just outside of their apartment complex. “Hey,” she whispered, “is it just me or is that guy staring at us?”

Clara looked up and sure enough there was a dark figure watching them, parked across the street. But before she could join Jenn in her mild panic, she realized she recognized the silver Honda Accord the man was leaning against.

— Thanks for reading, check out Episode 3 here!—

Meet Clara. Today she’s 21. She wants it to be a day like any other, but it might just be the day her life changes forever.

When Clara woke up on the morning of her twenty-first birthday, nothing about it felt special. Not a single thing. She turned off her usual phone alarm, glanced around her same-as-ever room, then sat up in her oh-so-familiar bed. Maybe, she thought, just maybe… today will be alright.

Clara had been dreading this day for weeks, and then inevitably hating herself for it. She would remind herself it was just a day like any other, it only had as much power as she chose to give it. But the dread would always creep back, nestling once more into the back of her mind where she would carry it throughout the day.

As she got out of bed, the day finally here, she realized with dissatisfaction that the dread was still there. Can’t be that surprised, there’s still plenty of time for today to go wrong. She walked to the door of her room and paused for a moment, quietly listening. She could tell one of her roommates was in the kitchen making breakfast. Probably Sasha, Jenn rarely woke up earlier than she had to and her first class wasn’t until noon. Clara opened the door slowly, then silently slid out and down the hallway of the apartment to the bathroom.

She hadn’t told either of her roommates about her birthday, so she wasn’t worried about them being all over her, but she still wasn’t quite ready to talk to anyone this morning. Her trip to the bathroom helped wake her up a bit more, and after pulling on her favorite pair of jeans and a comfy hoodie she felt prepared for basic human interaction. But the scene awaiting her in the kitchen was a few steps above basic. Jenn stood at the stove, minding a pan of scrambled eggs for a moment then shifting over to flip a pancake on the other burner. Judging by the dark brown hue of the pancake she was just a little bit overwhelmed by her mild multitasking. But that didn’t stop her from whirling around as Clara walked in to enthusiastically declare, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Clara was so taken aback that it took her a few seconds to even manage to say, “Oh, uh thanks. How did you — ?”

“How did I know today was your birthday?” Jenn asked quickly. “Hmm.. how about I phrase my answer as another question. Why did I have to Facebook stalk one of my best friends, check all of her photos and tagged photos — finding nothing useful, by the way — then check all of her dad’s photos and tagged photos, just to find a single picture posted ten years ago by her aunt wishing her a happy birthday — in order to know today was your birthday?” Jenn took a deep breath after saying the last word.

“The simple answer to that is that you could’ve not done all of that crazy stuff and just asked her like a normal person,” Sasha’s sleepy voice replied as she walked into the kitchen, probably woken up by Jenn’s loud speech and the subtle burning smell filling the apartment from her cooking.

“Well look who’s up now, thanks for helping with breakfast,” Jenn laughed.

“Sorry,” yawned Sasha, “I was up late doing homework. Happy birthday, Clara.” She shuffled over to Clara and gave her a friendly hug.

“Thanks,” Clara replied, “Jenn you really didn’t have to go to the trouble of getting up early to make me breakfast. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate it, I do! It’s just that I don’t really do much to celebrate my birthday, that’s why I didn’t bother telling you. It’s just another day to me, you know?”

Jenn opened her mouth then closed it and pursed her lips, clearly struggling to process what Clara had said. Jenn loved celebrations of any kind, especially birthdays. Clara got away with keeping hers private last year when they didn’t live together, but now that they did it really wasn’t surprising that she had found it out, although her level of commitment was still impressive. Of course, Aunt Judy would be the one to give her away.

Sasha spoke before Jenn could gather her thoughts, “Hey well if that’s what you want that’s totally cool. Just another day. It is your day after all.” She looked to Jenn as she said the last words.

“Thanks for understanding,” Clara smiled, looking back and forth between the two girls then over to the stove, “So.. how about we eat? It smells delicious, Jenn.”

“Uh yeah, let’s eat!” Jenn snapped out of her confused moment and turned back to the stove. She brought the eggs and pancakes to the table. Clara could tell that she wasn’t ready to drop the birthday conversation. She turned her interest immediately to the food, hoping to at least postpone the inevitable prying. The pancakes were all a little overcooked, but still alright, and the eggs had actually come out great.

“So,” Jenn began almost right away, wasting no time, “If you’re not big on celebrating, why are you going home tonight? I figured since you barely ever go back then this time must be because it’s your birthday. Do you only celebrate with family or..?” She had been poking at her eggs as she spoke but then fixed her eyes squarely on Clara as her question trailed off.

“Actually, I decided I’m not going home after all,” Clara avoided Jenn’s gaze, “My dad really wants me to, but, I’m just… not up for it I guess. I’d rather just stay here and it’s not like he’s ever cared much about my birthday anyways. My family just isn’t big on them, not since we lost my mom at least.”

“Oh,” Jenn looked down, frowning. Clara knew Jenn well enough to know her frown was partially empathy and partially from disappointment that she hadn’t known sooner or she would’ve planned more birthday activities.

Sasha, who had been quietly eating as she waited for her chance to diffuse the tension between her roommates, took advantage of the moment of silence to optimistically chime in, “Well if you’re staying then you should definitely come to Jeremy’s party tonight. Every twenty-one-year-old should at least celebrate their birthday with a drink.”

“Yeah you can come to the party!” Jenn’s eyes lit up as she recovered from her previous disappointment. “And maybe this afternoon we can all go out for drinks! O’Flanagan’s has a great birthday special!”

Clara’s eyebrows went up but she was quickly saved again by Sasha, who countered, “Actually, I was kinda planning on going to the memorial today. They’re having it in the quad.”

The excitement left Jenn’s eyes and the expressions of all three girls became somber. The memorial was for a girl named Amber Evans. She had disappeared a few weeks ago, and then last week her body turned up in a lake ten miles away from campus. Her death had been ruled a homicide, and the police still didn’t seem to have many leads. In their comparatively small college town crimes like that were rare, so rare that it was hard to believe that it had even happened.

“Mind if I come to the memorial with you?” Clara asked.

“Yeah me too,” Jenn added, so distracted by the change of conversation that she didn’t even seem bothered by the idea of Clara spending part of her birthday at a memorial for a murder victim.

“Of course,” Sasha answered, “We can meet by the library after Jenn’s sociology class.”

The three of them ate the rest of their meals in silence, then went their separate ways for the morning. Sasha and Clara both had 9 am classes, so they took the bus together to campus.

The rest of Clara’s morning was blissfully ordinary. As usual, she had a great time in her marketing class. As expected, her calculus class was just a bit too fast-paced for her to write everything down, but she could listen to the lecture again later to get what she missed. And as a tidy end to her Friday classes, she got back her midterm in her economics class, with a score slightly — and satisfyingly — higher than she had expected. She had an hour to kill before meeting up with her roommates, so she stopped by the coffee kiosk outside of the library and got herself a mocha to sip on as she waited and worked on a bit of homework.

It was a nice day, spring was just beginning to manifest, so she sat outside to work. The soft sound of leaves rustling in the breeze mixed nicely with the hum of the campus. Students hurried by, a handful riding bikes or skateboards. A leaf blower roared to life in the distance, far away enough that it was only a dull tone to Clara. This was the birthday she had wanted.

Clara remembered when she was small, before her mother died, that each of her birthdays was a momentous occasion. They would have French toast for breakfast, and then if Clara didn’t have school that day they would go somewhere special, to see the snakes at the zoo or to the carousel in the park across town. Then in the evening they’d have a special birthday dinner followed by chocolate cake, Clara’s all-time favorite. The day was never about gifts as much as it was about spending time together, and she had loved it.

When they lost her mother, things changed. It just wasn’t the same. Her dad had tried at first to keep up the birthday tradition: French toast and a special trip and chocolate cake, but even when he tried he seemed to do so begrudgingly, as if bringing up the memories of her mother was too much for him. After a few years, they seemed to reach an unspoken agreement to just drop the act altogether. Clara didn’t mind, she didn’t need another day to be reminded of the pain of her loss. When she moved away for school it became even easier to pretend that her birthday was just like any other day. Easier to push down the memories and get on with her life.

And then came this year, the big two-one. Her dad had messaged her weeks in advance suggesting that she visit home for her birthday. She had been surprised, to say the least. She hardly ever went back; she and her dad just weren’t that close. It wasn’t that they didn’t love each other, they just never seemed to have much to talk about. In Clara’s mind, moving away had allowed them to have their ideal amount of interaction: brief holiday visits, monthly calls, the occasional text exchange, and supportive likes on social media posts.

When he asked her to come home, she wasn’t thrilled. But she didn’t have a good reason not to, since she didn’t have birthday plans of her own. And she knew going back meant she’d probably get to see her grandma too, her mom’s mom who had recently moved in with her dad. So she’d said yes.

But as the day got closer, the thought of the long drive and awkward family birthday celebration seemed more and more unpleasant. So she had changed her mind and texted her dad last week saying it just wasn’t going to work for her. She’d assumed he’d understand. Despite all of the apparent weaknesses in their relationship their one strength had always been being on the same page about their level of interaction.

But he’d texted her multiple times in the past week trying to change her mind, and had even gone so far as to call, although by then Clara was a bit irked and let it go to voicemail. She wasn’t really happy about the whole situation, but she mostly turned her frustrations toward the fact that he even wanted her to come back in the first place. What was so special about this birthday that they just had to be together?

Clara didn’t get much work done in her spare hour but since she wasn’t going home anymore she had the whole weekend free to make up for it. She found Sasha in front of the library and they chatted for a few minutes about their classes until Jenn joined them and told them all about the documentary she had watched today in sociology class as they headed over to the memorial. Clara was beginning to wonder if Jenn’s description would be longer than the documentary itself when they reached the edge of the quad.

They could see a crowd of people beginning to gather on the southwest end so they walked over to join them. A small stage had been set up and was adorned with flowers and pictures of Amber Evans. Amber was beautiful. Before today Clara had only seen a single picture of her, the same picture used in all of the news segments and articles. But here there were dozens of photos with family and friends. She had long dark hair and warm brown eyes. And her smile in each of the pictures looked natural, not forced like Clara’s always seemed to end up being in photos. Clara wondered what she had been like. Maybe in a different world they could have had a class together at some point.

The memorial began soon after their arrival, with statements from campus and community leaders, followed by a stream of family and friends who told stories of Amber’s kindness, her volunteer work with local children, and her fluffy cat that she loved dearly. Finally, a woman walked up to the podium to close the memorial. She too had dark hair and deep brown eyes. Her long nose and plump lips were like Amber’s too, and Clara briefly scanned the array of pictures, quickly spotting the woman in many. This must be Amber’s mom.

Mrs. Evans cleared her throat, then began to speak. As she thanked everyone for coming, Clara noticed a dullness in her eyes. She looked tired. Clara didn’t blame her. She couldn’t imagine how draining it must be to not even know what happened to Amber, or who had done it. When her mom died it had been hard, but at least there was no mystery to it. They all bowed their heads for a short final prayer, and once the prayer ended, Amber’s mom gave one last request,

“Please, if anyone has any information about who did this to my daughter, any information at all, please go to the police. Help us get justice for my little girl.”

— Thanks for reading, check out Episode 2 here!—