Zarah paused ever so slightly, then nodded. “Sure, but only for a few minutes.”
We followed her inside, Erin and Zarah mindlessly chatting as we weaved through the hall and into the elevator. I had yet to say a word. Zarah had yet to notice.
She opened her front door, throwing her keys on the side table as we followed her in. “Have a seat.” She motioned to the kitchen counter with the pair of tall plastic chairs that looked as uncomfortable as I felt.
I sat, placing my cell on the counter. Erin took the seat to my right, and we watched Zarah fuss around her kitchen, grabbing enough stuff to make a salad. “How is everything going with the funeral? I know it’s not for a few weeks.”
Zarah looked at me, but Erin answered. “As good as can be expected. It’s invitation only so we’re getting the guest list together. Do you know Kevin House?”
Zarah paused, but more like she was trying to remember who he was. “No. But I can ask around. They go to school together?”
I just shook my head as Erin hopped back in. “Yes…” She trailed off when she saw me. “Kinda. Her professor.”
Zarah was too smart not to notice the discrepancy. “What’s going on?”
Erin was about to open her mouth. I didn’t let her. “Desiree DMed you a video right before she died. We know you saw it.”
“Twice,” Erin said.
“Okay…” Zarah said but didn’t stop moving.
“What happened the night of her DUI?” I needed to know.
And that’s what finally stopped her. She put the bowl she was holding down and gripped her counter so hard blood rushed to her perfectly manicured thumb. “It was my fault.”
Erin threw me a look. I told you so.
This was it.
Zarah had done it.
Unlike with Erin, my first inclination wasn’t to fight. Instead, I sat stock-still, my pounding heart the only thing moving. My brain willed my body to just get up and get out of there. It was the only thought my mind could form.
Yet I couldn’t go. Not until I heard her say the words. Admit what she’d done.
“We were supposed to go together, but I was running late, so she went without me even though I told her to wait,” Zarah said. “I didn’t know why. It was just some lip-kit launch. When I got there, we were both mad at each other. I was ready to ignore her, pretend to have a good time. The place had two floors, and she spent most of the time upstairs, so I barely saw her. Guess the bartender was cute or something. He thought she was too. He was making her drinks strong. By the time she stumbled downstairs, she was even drunker than normal. Still mad, though. She didn’t even say bye. I didn’t know she’d left until Kara got me. Said Desiree was causing a scene outside like we were still taping the show. So I went out. She was a mess. Crying. Blubbering. And I just wanted her to leave. But she didn’t. So I went back inside. Even though I knew she was so upset.” She stopped talking.
“But you came back and…” I trailed off.
Zarah shook her head. “No, of course not. I let her stay out there, make a scene.”
“So how was her accident your fault?” Erin sounded annoyed. I was just confused.
“Because I let her leave.” Zarah would look only at me. “She was gone when I finally went back outside, like, an hour later. Like I said. My fault. Lena, I’m so sorry.”
Maybe she was, but I could tell she wanted me to absolve her. My sister was dead, and here was Zarah, wanting us to comfort her for being a shitty friend. And though I understood, I didn’t have it in me.
“And the video?” Erin said. I’d forgotten she was there. “Why would she DM you a video right before she died? A video you didn’t say anything about.”
“I did.” Zarah looked at me. “I let the cops see it. They just said it showed she was clearly intoxicated. Desiree was a mess. Ranting and raving. I’m sure she only sent it to me because she and Erin were fighting that night. She needed someone to complain to. Said it wasn’t my fault. It was his fault. He was supposed to take care of her. That she’d protected him. And he’d lied to her. I knew things were bad between them but not that bad.”
“Who?” I said.
Zarah looked at me as if I already knew. “Mr. Pierce.”
“Mel?” I didn’t get what Zarah meant. “Because he cut her off?”
Zarah shook her head. “Because she saw him the night of her accident.”
Mel in New York? No. He and Veronika had been in Maryland for his alma mater’s graduation. He never missed it. “You must’ve heard her wrong,” I said.
“No.” She sounded confident. “That was why she was so upset. She wanted me to know she blamed him.”
I stood up. “I have to go.”
Twenty-Five
Gram and Aunt E had dropped Mel off at Morgan State less than a month after he graduated high school—eager to get him out of the Bronx. He was the first to go to college, but he didn’t graduate. He stayed just long enough to pledge Omega Psi Phi and collect enough scholarship money to start his label with Free. Aunt E said Gram hadn’t spoken to him for two straight weeks when he’d come back sans degree after junior year. Morgan offered him an honorary doctorate years later, but Gram was not impressed. It was why she’d been so overjoyed when I graduated from Penn—getting there early enough to nab a good seat. Mel hadn’t come to that graduation either.
Despite the aborted education, Mel still considered himself a Morgan man—going back to Baltimore twice a year for Homecoming and graduation, often bringing along artists to perform at both events. They weren’t nearly as upset about his dropout status as Gram was.
He hadn’t missed a trip in twenty-five-plus years, which was why I was so confused how he could be in two places at once—seeing Desiree in New York and holding court in Maryland.
Zarah was as happy to show us out as we were to leave. Erin asked a few more questions, but Zarah didn’t know anything else. Like why Mel had been in town. Or where Desiree had seen him.
When we got outside, it felt like the temperature had gone up at least 50 degrees.
“You believe her?” Erin said as I requested an Uber.
“I believe she believes herself. That Desiree saw Mel. But Desiree was so drunk that night. Maybe she was confused.”
“Or maybe he really was there. You should ask him.” When I didn’t respond right away, she spoke again. “You gonna be okay?”
“Yep. Gonna go home. Take some melatonin. Figure crap out tomorrow.”
I did just that. Went straight to Highbridge. Erin didn’t come with me, and I didn’t bother to ask where she was going to stay.
I hadn’t made my bed, so it didn’t take long to get back in, ignoring the clothes still piled high on the left side. The melatonin didn’t help, though, even when I doubled the dose. So I got out my laptop.
I started with The Baltimore Sun. Their archives page had gone with form over function, a simple gray-and-blue interface highlighting screenshots of actual newspapers from years past. I started my search too broad—just Mel’s full name. Over two thousand hits. So I narrowed it down. “Mel Pierce Morgan State Graduation 2017.” Much better results, ones they made you pay to see. They wanted $7.95 a month for full access. Luckily, they also offered a free seven-day subscription. I started my free trial and found myself staring at a front-page photo of Mel, wearing a blue suit and orange tie and smiling next to the college’s president. The paper had done an entire two-page graduation spread. Mel was in almost every photo.