On the third day, Taured came to see her. He was dressed in his nice clothes: black pants and a blue oxford rolled to the elbows. In his hands was a tray with what she assumed was breakfast. He set it down on the little table where Summer sometimes did her homework and turned toward her with a brilliant smile.
“Good morning, Summertime. I’ve come to keep you company.”
Her stomach clenched.
“I’ve made you breakfast. Will you eat?”
He motioned to the table and Summer froze. She had eaten very little, mostly drinking juice and eating pieces of bread rolled between her fingers into little balls. She’d pretended they were communion and she was eating her mother’s body and drinking her blood in remembrance. On the table was a plate, piled high with steaming yellow eggs and thick pieces of bacon. Her mouth was wet and her stomach groaned miserably. But then, out of her rolling stomach came a memory: another table covered in food…Taured leading her into his office…his smile as he closed the door. The vision ended as soon as it came, skirting something significant she couldn’t recall. When had that happened? Lifting her hands to her head, she cradled her own face. She was outside of herself, a coating on her own body like sweat.
She was hungry, but she did not want to eat. Eating would be disrespectful to her mother, who would never eat again. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, keeping her eyes low, and walked over to the table. She sat, smashing her toes into the rug and staring down at her hands.
“Eat,” Taured commanded. Still, she hesitated. He picked up the fork and placed it in her hand. Summer gripped the metal and scooped egg into her mouth. She chewed, staring straight ahead. The egg dropped into her stomach with a plop, she could feel it—all the while Taured watched.
“I know you’re in deep pain, Summer. We are all grieving Lorraine. She was a very important member of our community and we loved her very much.”
The eggs threatened to come back up. She held the back of her hand to her mouth and breathed in the scent of her own skin, closing her eyes. She didn’t want to listen to him talk about her mother. The fork clattered to the plate when she dropped it. Her hands moved to her eyes, palms open to cover them—a childish gesture, but what felt like the right one. A moment later, she heard the sound of a chair being moved. She dropped her hands to see him across from her. His knee brushed hers and she yanked it away, squeezing her thighs together.
“Your mother was not well these last months.”
“She was fine. She was the same as always.”
She saw a flash of annoyance in his eyes at being interrupted. “Parents shield their children from the ugly truths to preserve their innocence, Summer. You were not privy to all of the things your mother was moving through emotionally.” That was true, though it hadn’t been her fault, because Taured kept her mother away on his mission trips, and they barely had time to communicate when she was at the compound.
“And you were?”
“Well, yes, I’m her mentor and spiritual leader, and she confided in me when she was having a hard time.”
Summer shook her head; she didn’t believe a word he was saying. He went on speaking, anyway.
“She never got over your father. You know that. She lost her will to live.” His voice was low, like he was telling her a secret, but it wasn’t true—her mother had been fine. At the airport, she’s seen the signs of her old mother again, and then…
“What did you do to her in there?”
Her balled fist hit the table, rattling the orange juice in its glass. She registered the look of surprise on his face, but this time there was no remnant of fear on hers; he had killed her mother, and she was angry. He didn’t answer.
“I’m going to go to the police and tell them you killed her!”
His face changed, grew angrier with each word she said, but she didn’t stop. “You put her in that room and she died!”
The slap came like a whip, striking fast enough to bob her head and leaving a terrible sting.
She touched her cheek with her palm, trying to draw out the pain, staring at Taured not in shock but in anger.
“You can’t call the police, Summer, you can’t do anything. You belong here, to me. Especially now that your mother is dead. Where would you go? Do you know that her father molested her? That’s why she didn’t want to take you back. She knew that you were safe here.”
“She would have told me—” But she knew her mother hadn’t liked to talk about her parents. Had it been for the reason Taured said? No. It was another of Taured’s lies.