The Girl Before (36 page)

“It's medicinal,” Mama explains, handing me the mug. “Recommended by the doctor.”

I take a sip, and the liquid tastes like honey and cinnamon, sweet and spicy. Much better than the morning sickness tea Mama has been giving me. I won't be needing that anymore. I sit in one of the chairs in the corner of the room, unwilling to crawl back into bed yet. Mama takes the second chair. She watches me carefully.

“I'll be fine.”

“I know.” Mama takes a breath. “It's not right, you losing your babies.”

Shocked, I can only stare at her. I expected more of a “buck up” statement. Even after all these years, Mama can surprise me. “Thank you for saying that.”

She studies me again. Her expression changes, as if she has made a decision. “I told you once about Glen's sisters.” It is not a question. She assumes I remember, and of course I do. It is the sort of information that I dared not ask about, but that I stored away to examine every once in a while, to try to find my own meaning or explanation. I nod.

“You never asked me what happened to them,” she continues.

“No,” I say. “It wouldn't have been proper.”

“Smart girl,” Mama says. Another compliment. Sort of. She is on a roll tonight. “It's time you knew.” She closes her eyes, as if it will be easier to tell me her story if she can't see me. “I always wanted girls,” Mama says. “And when I married Papa, I got more girls than I had ever dreamed. Papa G, he wanted boys. Strong boys to help with the business, to take over when he couldn't handle the load anymore. So when I got pregnant, he was over-the-moon excited.

“Back then, you didn't find out ahead of time if you were having a boy or a girl. At least most people didn't, and we didn't have the means anyway. So after eighteen hours of hard labor, we learned that I'd been growing a girl for almost ten months. Papa walked out without a word.”

Mama looks so sad. I feel for her, though I can imagine Papa doing just that. Glen would have stayed by my side, but Papa and Mama's relationship was very different. I do not interrupt. I need to hear what happened next, and Mama might change her mind. Her face is tight and her knuckles white where they grip the arms of her chair.

“The next morning, Papa G came in with a fellow he knew from another side of the business. This is the guy Papa went to when one of his other girls got into trouble. They had already come to a deal, and in minutes, my darling baby was out of my arms and out the door with the man. I was promised she would have a good home, a loving family.” Mama laughs bitterly. “As if she were a dog they needed to get rid of. My husband, Glen's father, sold my babies. All three healthy little girls. I don't even know what happened to them, though Papa said they went to nice families who could give them what we couldn't.” A humorless laugh escapes her lips. “It's ironic, if you think about it.”

I don't know how to process what I've just learned, so I reach over and place a hand over hers. She flips her hand to grip mine. “Clara, Glen was my last chance, and I told you why he is so important to me. It kills me to see him hurting. I know that you're hurting, too. I know what it feels like. The empty womb, the empty arms. But if you can be there for him, you'll both get through this. The men pretend they are the strong ones, that they protect us.” Mama smiles. “But we are the ones holding them up, keeping them afloat. We are their anchors.

“I had my doubts about you, Clara, but I can tell that you are the one who can be Glen's anchor. It took me a while to get here, but seeing you weather these storms, seeing you lose three babies and get up and move forward . . . it's proven that you will stand by Glen through
anything. Remember that: As long as you hold each other up, you will make it through anything.”

I flush the toilet after losing my lunch yet again. I can no longer blame Nut. His contribution to my stomach issues has long since passed. No. Today there is another reason.

Today I see Glen. It has been many weeks since our last visit. So much has changed. I am no longer the girl he knew. And I am more terrified of this visit than I was of starting therapy, or going to the support group, or even meeting my family. I walk to the sink to wash out my mouth, rubbing my rounded abdomen in the way that has become unconscious habit.

Without thinking about it, I begin to pace. I don't know what Glen will think of the changes in me, and it bothers me that I still care. I worry that I will be susceptible to his charm, as I always have been. That he still holds power over me, despite the revelations of the past few weeks. That I will take back everything I have done.

But I cannot take back all of it. The documents in the safe are proof enough to nail Glen for countless transgressions. I know now what it is called. Human trafficking. Buying and selling and trading humans. And I helped. I do not yet know what my punishment will be.

Jay walks into the room, interrupting my rapidly declining thoughts. He raises an eyebrow. I must look frightful. “Ready?”

I nod, not trusting my voice. I must save it for Glen. We set off down the hall. I do not really need him to lead anymore. I know the way by heart. Into the van and through busy streets to the prison. As
we enter the building, I trail Jay, my feet feeling heavier the closer we get to the room where Glen waits. Connor is outside the door.

“We'll be right in there, Clara,” he says, pointing to a door adjacent to the one I will enter. “We're watching and listening to the whole thing. As soon as you need to get out of there, just say so. You can have as much time as you need.”

Smiling, I squeeze his arm. I remember his time limits from before. I would have abused them then. I would have stayed until someone pried me away. This time, I will not have that problem. But just in case, I know that he will be there. “Thank you.”

Taking a deep breath, I nod at the guard, who unlocks the door and opens it for me. Glen is the only one in the sparse room. He looks strong, healthy, but his face is drawn, with more lines than I remember. He jumps up as I enter the room, rushing around the table to embrace me. I stiffen in his grasp and pat him on the back before stepping away from the circle of his arms.

“Clara?” His voice is laced with confusion. This is not the reunion he expected.

“Let's sit down, Glen,” I say, and I am surprised at the strength in my voice. I move to the table. Glen remains where he is for a moment, and then follows, sitting beside me. I scoot my chair a little farther away from his so I can look at him fully. He leans forward and grips my hands, and I do not pull free.

“How are you, Clara?” One of his hands moves to my stomach. “How is our baby?”

“We're both good, Glen.” I am not sure how this conversation will go. I will let him lead for now. “How are you?”

“How do I look, Clara?” Glen's eyes flash. “I am in hell.” He runs a hand through his hair, still maintaining his grip on my hand with the other. “And they arrested Mama. Found all sorts of stuff in her house.
She should have gotten rid of all of Papa's records as soon as he died.” He sighs and looks at me. “It's not looking good, Clare.”

“I know.” Connor has kept me updated. Mama put up a fight when they went to arrest her and search the house, but she is in custody now, being held at the same prison I visited. I hope she is eating the food and playing nice with the others.

Glen looks at me. “You know?” He is curious, but not suspicious yet. I glance at the mirror, where I know Connor and the guards are monitoring our conversation. Glen's face hardens. “How do you know, Clara?”

I look him straight in the eye as I say, “Because I helped get the information.”

He recoils, dropping my hand as if it has burned him. “What the hell are you talking about?” He stands and begins to pace.

“I told them what they needed to know,” I say, my voice even, calm. “And then I wore a wire when Mama came to visit.”

Without warning, Glen flies at me, grabbing my shoulders. The door crashes open and guards pour into the room, pulling him off of me. Connor is close behind them and comes over to me, helping me to my feet. I wave them all off. “It's fine. Let him go.” The guards comply, but stay close, and Connor does not leave my side. Glen looks between the two of us.

A brittle smile cracks his face. “I see. You're fucking him, aren't you? A little bed action and a little information? How could you betray me like that, Clara?”

To Connor's credit, his only reaction is the muscle jumping in his jaw. He lets me run the show.

“No, Glen. I'm not sleeping with Connor.”

“Right.” Glen's body is tense, ready to spring, and I'm glad that the guards remain in the room with us now. I had hoped to do this without a visible audience, but instead I tune them out and focus on Glen.

“You lied to me, Glen. My whole life, you lied.”

He crosses his arms, staring me down, refusing to speak.

“All those girls were told the same lie. Their parents didn't want them. They didn't have a home. They were alone in the world, and you could give them a place to call home, a family that loved them.” I laugh, but there's no joy in the sound. “But it was all for money, wasn't it? And prestige in your sick little community.”

“You don't understand, Clara.”

“I understand, Glen. You lied to me, pretended to love me, and screwed other girls while I waited at home, while I did everything you asked. EVERYTHING.” I shout the last word, my calm façade crumbling beneath the weight of my emotion. I take a step forward, ignoring the small sound Connor makes. “I wanted to give you the world. I wanted to give you a family. But instead, you let your mother poison me, kill my babies, keep me feeling inferior in every possible way.”

Glen's reaction is immediate. His entire body wilts. “My mother did what?”

And I realize that he didn't know. He has no reason to lie at this point.

“The tea she always gave me . . .”

Realization dawns on his face as he puts the pieces together. “She's the reason . . .”

I nod and watch as tears fill his eyes. I gaze into his shattered expression, and my heart breaks. It breaks for the life we could have had, if we were both different people. For the life I thought we had. For the babies I will never meet. For the last bit of innocence that was lying hidden within Glen, now eradicated by news of his parents' treachery.

“I am going to continue to cooperate with them, Glen,” I say as I begin to walk toward the door. “You are no longer anything to me.” The words stab me as surely as they must stab him, and I pray that
someday they will be true. “I wish for you a long life of captivity, just as you made happen for all those children.”

A strangled cry comes from behind me when I am almost to the door. “Clara.” I have never heard Glen make a sound like that, and I turn around. Behind me sits a broken man, his power over me gone. “I always loved you, Clara,” he says, his voice barely loud enough to carry to me.

My smile is gentle. “Maybe you loved Clara,” I agree. “But Clara no longer exists. Good-bye, Glen.”

Head held high, I exit the room to the sound of Glen's sobs. Once the door closes behind me, I sink to the floor of the hallway, heedless of whatever dirt and grime I might be resting in. My head cradled in my hands, I break.

Connor lets me cry for a few minutes, then helps me to my feet. Jay is on the other side. As I stand, I feel a weight falling from my shoulders. My heart is shattered, but my soul, which has been dark and twisted for so long, is starting the long process toward healing.

Kelly is perfect. Her short bob is brushed to shining, and her simple jeans and T-shirt are exactly to the specifications of her client. She is my first daughter to go out into the world, and she will be taking care of children herself. She is sixteen, but looks older, at least eighteen or nineteen. Old enough to be a nanny traveling with a family.

Only her face does not match the image I am trying to portray. Tears stream down her cheeks. “I don't want to go, Clara,” she whimpers. “Please, let me stay and help you.”

“Don't be silly,” I say, brushing imaginary lint off her shoulders.
“You get to go and travel the world. Mr. Green and his family do business in Europe and Asia and South America . . . and you will get to take care of his two children. They are adorable.” I realize I am rambling, nervous in my own right that she will not perform. Glen will not be happy. Though Papa made the initial contact, he's sitting this part out, since the training has been primarily a joint effort between Glen and myself. He will be waiting to hear how things go. And to give his judgment.

“But . . . have you seen him?” Kelly asks, her voice trembling. “He's old, and I know what you said about—”

“Hush,” I say, sharper than I intend. I gentle my tone. “He is your life now, Kelly. Simple as that. Don't forget it, and you won't have a problem.”

Kelly continues to sob quietly, shoulders shaking. I am grateful that the client requested no eye makeup. It would be a disaster by now. I hand her a tissue. “Calm down, Kelly. He'll be here soon.”

Glen taps on the door and walks in. “What's going on?” He does not look pleased to find such a mess of a girl waiting for him.

“Just some nerves,” I say, standing in front of Kelly, shielding her from his view. “She'll be fine.”

“Mr. Green just called from the front of the building. He's on his way up.”

Kelly begins to sob louder, covering her face with her hands. Glen pushes me aside and walks up to stand directly in front of her. “Kelly.” She lowers her hands and looks up at him. Without warning, he slaps her across the face with his open hand. “Snap the fuck out of it,” he says. His voice is low, but menacing. “Your client will be here soon. If you don't perform as promised, you'll end up at one of our other . . . establishments.”