Dead To You

25. this dark, dark time

Once the song had ended, a man who addressed himself as the family's minister spoke to the crowd as he stood next to Preston-Rosenblooms, Victoria still gripping onto a numbed Noel with his father's arms around both of them like the perfect bereaved family unit. "Tonight, we gather together as a community to share a moment of silence in hopes that Bridgette might be found safely and returned to her family," the minister declared in a booming voice. "In it's times like these that humanity rallies together and puts aside our differences, because Bridgette is a member of our community and what happens to one of us, happens to all of us."

I tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle my nose from wrinkling. My tolerance for the we're all in this together crap was beginning to wear thin after the past week. "I'm pretty sure we all know where we are," I whispered to my mother, because, no, this didn't happen to all of us and it almost felt a little insulting to insinuate that it did. We all had homes and warm beds to go home to, after all.

If Mom agreed with me, though, she didn't include it in her warning, "Shh."

"And, if anyone has any information that might help lead to Bridgette's safe return, then we strongly urge you to contact the Fairview Police Department. A five-thousand-dollar reward will be given to anyone who shares information with the authorities that brings Bridgette home. This could be anything. All tips are appreciated, even if you think it's not much, it won't help. You never know. It could just be the thing that reunites this family."

My tip, evidently, hadn't reunited them. I had finally received a call back from the police department about the tip I had called in at the beginning of the week, but it was relatively brief after I managed to convince them that no, Bridgette wasn't injured when I nearly hit her with my mom's car. I told them what time it approximately was when I last talked to her, that we had gotten into a bit of an argument, and that I saw her heading back in the direction where the party had been before it started raining. After that, the detective I spoke with thanked me for my time, said he would let me know if he had any follow-up questions, and then ended the six-minute-long phone call. That was yesterday and, clearly, it wasn't much and didn't help because Bridgette was still missing.

Just before the vigil ended with the moment of silence, the minister announced that Victoria Rosenbloom wanted to share a few words with Bridgette's closest friends and family. I watched as Victoria took a step forward, one arm still grasped tightly onto Noel who was slow to move his feet in response, and she brought her other hand to her chest, spreading her palm flat against the words HAVE YOU SEEN ME? over her shirt.

Her face was scrunched and her voice was breathy as she said, "On behalf of our family, I want just to thank you all for the love and support you've given us this past week. This has been...the most unimaginable thing for a mother to go through. And you all have been giving me the strength I need to keep going on for Bridgette, to bring our baby home. Seeing you all here tonight, the first responders and the search parties you guys have organized, the meals you've brought and the flowers—I can feel how much you all loved Bridgette and it brings me such joy and comfort in this dark, dark time for our family."

I furrowed my brow at the emotions in her voice that turned her words flimsy, the shininess in her eyes that she kept dragging her thumb underneath, but it didn't seem like her eyes were brimming over with actual tears. And I was usually an empathetic crier, but I didn't feel overcome with emotion listening to her speech. I glanced around to see if anyone else felt like that, but I saw tears glittering in eyes all around me in the twinkling candlelight, even my own mother swallowed thickly and reached for my hand, threading her fingers through mine and letting out a shaky breath that nearly blew out her candle.

I was about to see if at least Noel thought so or if maybe the sleep deprivation and stress had finally deadened the connection between my mind and my tear ducts, when I spotted Jun behind me. She was with her parents too, the candle in her hand trembling as she cried silently, one of her little sisters standing next to her with her arms around her waist. Her hair was tucked behind her ears, wearing one of the t-shirts with Bridgette's picture, and her face was blotchy and puffy as she sniffled, breathing out through her mouth. She knew Bridgette even longer than I had. I realized, as the moment of silence began, that the connection hadn't been deadened after all and looked away.