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Hannah knew nothing about her mother's disappearance that summer. Because after she was born, her family never mentioned this matter. Even if they did, it would not help. So, after Lydia disappeared, Hannah was very angry and confused, thinking that Lydia had abandoned them, and this realization only deepened her anger and confusion. "How could you," she thought, "leave your family knowing how it feels to be abandoned?" Now, knowing her sister had sunk to the bottom of the lake, all she could think of was: "How could this happen?" And: " What does that feel like?”
Tonight, she was going to find out. Her luminous watch said it was two o'clock in the morning, and she had been lying patiently, watching the numbers on the dial beat. Today, June 1st, is her last day of school. Tomorrow, Ness is supposed to put on his blue robe and mortarboard and receive his diploma. But they wouldn't be attending Nath's graduation; they hadn't been to school since that incident—she suppressed the thought.
She tiptoed down the six creaking stairs to the front hall, and circled to the door like a cat, not daring to step on the rose carpet at the door because the floor beneath would make a sound. Although Marilyn, James, and Nath were not asleep upstairs, they had no idea: Hannah knew how to control her limbs to stay quiet. In the darkness, her fingers pulled open the latch, grabbed the safety chain, and quietly untied it. This was a new addition to the house. Before the funeral, there were no safety chains.
She had been practicing for three weeks. When her mother wasn't paying attention, she would grab the door lock and play with it. Hannah slowly slipped out the door and stepped barefoot on the lawn where Lydia had been on the last night of her life. The moon hung behind the treetops, and the yard, walkway, and neighbor's house slowly disappeared into blurry black shadows. That's all her sister saw that night. Mrs. Allen's windowpanes reflected the moonlight, and the streetlights dimmed dimly at the corner where the road around the lake began.
Hannah paused at the edge of the lawn, toes on the pavement, heels still in the grass, thinking of the thin figure that had disappeared into the darkness that night—she didn't look scared. So, Hannah, like her, walked directly in the middle of the road. If the street was crowded enough, people would definitely draw a yellow line in the middle. The dim outlines of curtains showed behind the dim windows, and there were no lights in the side street except for Mrs. Allen's front door light, which she always left on during the day. When Hannah was younger, she used to think that adults stayed up late every night and didn't go to bed until two or three o'clock. Now she knows that this speculation is not true.
She stopped at the corner again. The road was dark in both directions and there were no cars. Her eyes had now adapted to the darkness, and she quickly crossed the road and came to the grass-covered shore of the lake, but her eyes could not see the surface of the lake. Only the sloping terrain beneath her feet showed that she was close to the lake. She passed several birch trees that stretched their stiff arms over their heads in a gesture of surrender. Then, suddenly, her toes hit the water. At this moment, she heard a plane flying overhead, and the lake water lapped at her ankles, as softly as a tongue licking her lips. If you look very carefully, you can see the dim shimmer on the water, like a silver veil. Other than that, she wouldn't know it was water.
“A beautiful place,” the real estate agent told James and Marilyn when they first moved to Midwood. Hannah had heard this story many times. "It only takes five minutes to walk to the lake shore, and it also only takes five minutes to go to the grocery store. Think about it, the lake is basically at your doorstep." He glanced at Marilyn's round belly, "Throughout the summer, you and Children can swim in it, as if they have their own private beach." James was yearning for it and readily agreed. Hannah had always loved the lake, but now it was a completely different place.
Years of use have made the surface of the pier very smooth, and the moonlight has cast a silvery glow on it. There is a light on a wooden piling at one end of the pier, which casts a circle of light on the water. She was going to the ship, like Lydia. She would paddle to the middle of the lake, where her sister ended her life. She wanted to stare into the depths of the lake. Maybe if she tried this, she would be able to understand everything.
But the boat disappeared. The city's response was slow, but people moved it anyway.
Hannah sat on her heels and imagined her sister kneeling down to untie the rope and push the boat away from the shore, so far away that she couldn't see the dark water around the boat. Finally, she lay on the dock, swaying slightly and looking at the night sky above her. That night, the distance between this night and her sister must have been so close.
If it were a past summer, the lake would have been as lovely as ever. Nath and Lydia would put on their bathing suits and spread towels on the grass, and Lydia, smeared with baby oil, would lie on them and bask in the sun. If Hannah was very lucky, Lydia would let her put some oil on her arms and help her retie her bikini straps while Lydia tanned her back. Ness would fire "cannonballs" from the dock, creating a spray of water that would hit their skin with pearly droplets. On the clearest days, even though such opportunities are very, very rare, their parents come. Dad would practice breaststroke and Australian crawl in the lake, and if he was in a good mood, teach Hannah how to swim, steadying her body as she kicked. Their mother, who wore a giant sun hat, would look up from the New Yorker when Hannah returned to the towel, leaving Hannah to lean quietly on her shoulder and read the comics in the magazine. . These scenes only happen near the lake.
They wouldn't come to the lake this summer, and never would - she knew that without asking. Although the university has found someone to fill James' place for the semester, her father has been in the office every day for the past three weeks. Her mother stayed in Lydia's room for hours, staring at everything but touching nothing. Nath paced the house like a caged animal, opening cupboards and slamming them shut, picking up books one after another and throwing them to the floor. Hannah said nothing about this. Although no one set the rules deliberately, she already knew that the new rules in the house were: don't mention Lydia, don't mention the lake, don't ask questions.
She lay still for a long time, imagining her sister lying at the bottom of the lake. My sister would face up as she did, studying what was beneath the surface. Her arms were stretched out like this, as if she were embracing the whole world. She would keep listening, waiting for them to come to her. We don't know, Hannah thought, that we should come.
It seemed like this method didn't work, she still couldn't figure it out.
Back home, Hannah tiptoed into Lydia's room and closed the door. She lifted up the bedside skirt, pulled out a slender velvet box from under the bed, then used Lidya's blanket to set up a tent, hid inside, opened the box, and took out a silver pendant, which was given to Lidya by her father. It was a birthday present from Ya, but she stuffed it under the bed, and the velvet box gradually gathered dust.
The necklace connected to the pendant has fallen off, but Hannah promised Lydia that she would not put it back on the pendant. She always kept her promises to the people she loved, even if they were no longer in the world. She fingered the delicate chain as if it were a rosary. The bed smelled just like it did when her sister was asleep, a warm, musky scent—like that of wild animals—that only came out when she was asleep. She could almost feel the indentation Lydia's body made into the mattress, as if it was hugging her. In the morning, the sun shone in through the window. She made her bed, put the pendant back in its place, and returned to her room. She understood without thinking that she would try again tonight, and tomorrow night, and tomorrow night. She opened her eyes, pushed the blanket aside, and walked carefully over the scattered shoes and clothes to the door.
At breakfast time, Nass came downstairs and heard his parents arguing about something, so he stood in the aisle outside the kitchen. "You left the door unlocked all night," his mother said, "and you didn't even care."
"It's not unlocked, the latch is still on." His father said anxiously. Nath knew that this conversation had been going on for some time.
"Others may come in, so I chose that chain for a reason." Nath walked in cautiously, but his parents—Marilyn lying on the edge of the pool, James huddled in a chair—didn't look up. Across the table, Hannah squirmed uncomfortably over her toast and milk. I'm sorry, she thought earnestly, I forgot the chain, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Her parents did not notice her abnormality. In fact, they turned a blind eye to her.
After a long silence, James spoke up: "Do you really think adding a chain to the door will change everything?"
Marilyn slammed the teacup in her hand onto the counter. "She won't go out alone, I know she won't. Sneak out in the middle of the night? My Lydia? Absolutely impossible." She clutched the porcelain teacup tightly with both hands, "Someone took her out, probably madman."
James sighed, a sigh that came from deep in his heart and was trembling, as if he was trying desperately to get rid of the huge weight that oppressed him. Marilyn had been saying this for the past three weeks. He woke as soon as the sun came up the morning after the funeral, and he seemed to see it all vividly—the smooth coffin, Louisa's skin rubbing against his, her soft moans as he climbed on top of her—and he suddenly felt He was dirty, as if his body was covered with thick mud. He turned up the temperature of the shower. The water was so hot that he couldn't stand still under the shower head, so he had to keep turning in circles, like a piece of meat under a spray gun, cooking one side and then flipping it to the other. But this will not help. After leaving the bathroom, a faint scratching sound led him downstairs, where he found Marilyn putting the chain back on the front door.
He really wanted to express the opinion that had come to his mind these days: Lydia's incident could not be avoided by locking the door and intimidating her. Then the look on Marilyn's face stopped him, sadness, fear, and anger, as if he was not to blame. At that moment, she looked like someone else, a stranger. He had no choice but to harden his mind, adjust his collar, and fasten the buttons around his neck. "Okay," he said, "I'm in school, summer class." When he leaned in to kiss her, Marilyn flinched back, as if he'd burned her. The newspaper boy dropped a newspaper on the porch. Today's news was "City Resident Buries Daughter."
The autopsy report is still locked in his desk drawer. One of two Eastern students who attended Midwood High School—the other being her brother, Nathan—Lee was very visible in the school, yet few people seemed to know her. From that day on, more articles appeared in the newspapers. In small places, any death is a hot topic, and the loss of a young girl is a gold mine for journalism. Police are still looking for clues in the girl's death. There is a possibility of suicide. investigators said. Whenever he saw such reports, he would quickly roll up the newspaper to prevent Marilyn and the children from seeing it, as if it were rotten garbage. Only in the safe environment of an office would he open the newspaper and read it carefully. After reading it, he would place it on the rising pile of newspapers in the drawer and lock it.
He lowered his head and said, "I don't think that's true."
Marilyn said angrily: "What do you mean?"
Before James could answer, the doorbell rang. It's the police. The two officers walked into the kitchen, and both Nath and Hannah breathed a sigh of relief that their parents could finally stop arguing.
"We're just here to tell you about new developments," said the older police officer—Officer Fisk, whom Ness recognized. Fisk took out a notebook from his pocket and pushed up his glasses with a stubby finger. "All colleagues are sorry for what happened to you. We want to find out what happened."
"Of course, officer," James whispered.
"We talked to the people on the list you provided." Officer Fisk flipped through his notebook. "Karen Adler, Pam Sanders, Shelly Brierley—they all said they were with Liddy. Not familiar."
Hannah saw her father's face suddenly turn red, like a rash breaking out.
"We have talked with some of Lydia's classmates and teachers. According to our observation, she does not have many friends." Officer Fisk raised his head, "Do you think Lydia is a lonely child?"
"Alone?" James glanced at his wife, and then—for the first time this morning—at his son. She was one of two Eastern students who attended Midwood High School—the other being her brother, Nathan—and Lee was a very visible presence at the school. He knew what it felt like: those pale faces staring silently at him. He wanted to tell himself that Lydia was different from him, that she had friends, that she was just an ordinary member of the crowd. "Alone," he repeated slowly, "she does spend a lot of time alone."
"She's very busy," Marilyn interrupted. "She works very hard in the class. She has a lot of homework to do and a lot to learn." She looked at the two police officers eagerly, as if she was afraid they wouldn't believe her. "She Very smart."
"Has she seemed to be in a bad mood in recent weeks?" the young officer asked. "Has she ever shown signs of wanting to harm herself? Or..."
Marilyn spoke before he could finish. "Lydia is very happy, she loves school, she has a great future, and she will never run into that boat by herself." Her hands began to shake, and she grabbed the tea cup tightly, trying to hold it steady - Han Na felt like she was about to crush the cup into pieces, "Why don't you go find out who took her away?"
"There's no evidence that there was anyone else on the boat besides her," said Sergeant Fisk. "There was no evidence that there was anyone on the dock."
"How do you know?" Marilyn insisted, "My Lydia will never run to the boat alone." The tea in her hand spilled on the counter, "These days, who knows if There are criminals waiting to kidnap her halfway."
"Marilyn," James said.
"Read the newspapers. Mental illness is everywhere these days. They kidnap, shoot, rape and do everything. Why don't the police catch them?"
"Marilyn." James raised his voice.
"We're not missing a beat," Officer Fisk said gently.
"We know," James said, "You will do your best, thank you." He looked at Marilyn, "Other than that, we have no other requirements." Marilyn opened her mouth to say something, but didn't.
The two policemen looked at each other, and the younger one said, "If we can, we'd like to ask Ness a few more questions, alone."
All five faces turned to Nath, and he felt his cheeks burning. "I?"
"Just doing some follow-up research," Fisk said, putting his hand on Nath's shoulder. "Maybe we can talk on the porch."