ATLANTA GEORGIA
7th March, 2022

EMILIA

Piedmont Park was especially lush this time of year, sporting an endless fiesta of green with the occasional splash of colour from the flower patches. It was surprisingly crowded for a Friday afternoon. It seems the kids these days had abandoned school. Not that she was anyone to talk. She was homeschooling Billy. Emilia knew she would spend most of her days at the principal’s office if she took Billy to regular school. That boy was talented at creating scenes.

Briefly, Emilia watched the children run in maddening circles around bored parents, squealing in a mix of excitement and horror. If Emilia didn’t like children, this place would be a nightmare.

Emilia spotted Lotus sitting on a scratched wooden bench near a duck pond, a drawing book open on her lap, staring into space as a boy —presumably Landon— flew a paper plane behind her. She got out of the car to meet her, and Billy grabbed hold of her hand and began to pull her back. What now?

“No!” Billy screamed, pouting his lips.

“No, what?”

“Let’s go! I don’t want to be here!"

A vein throbbed in Emilia’s temple. There was a headache in her future. She wondered how his mother had handled him for six whole years. No wonder she’d wanted a break. “Seriously? You are the one who insisted that we come here so that you could play with Landon. Remember?”

“I changed my mind!” Billy pulled her hand harder.

“Kill me now,” Emilia muttered. She yanked her hand free from Billy’s grip. He opened his mouth to wail, and Emilia raised her index finger. “Elijah Bill Hunter don’t make a mistake of throwing another tantrum here! I have had enough of your shenanigans for one half of the day. If you don’t want to come, suit yourself. I’m going to go and sit with Lotus, and I’m only leaving when I feel like it.” She walked towards Lotus, knowing that Billy would have no choice but to follow. He couldn’t drive and he didn't know the way home. Billy followed, stomping his feet angrily.

Sitting on the scratched wooden bench next to Lotus, Emilia nudged Lotus with her shoulder. “Hey.”

Lotus turned, blinking as if waking up from a very, very deep sleep. “Oh, you came.”

Emilia pointed at Billy with her chin. “I came at his insistance, and now he is pretending like he was against this whole idea from the start. That boy is more efficient at lowering your lifespan than a pack of cigarettes. “

Lotus closed the drawing book, placed it on the bench, and went to Billy. Billy didn’t run for the hills the way he did when other people approached him, and Emilia felt jealous. Lotus was such a natural with kids. Her, on the other hand. . .

Emilia did not know what Lotus told Billy, but it seemed to work because Billy soon joined Landon in playing with the paper plane and feeding the ducks.

“You are such a natural with kids.” Emilia commented when Lotus sat down.

Lotus gave a little laugh, tucking one honey brown braid behind her ear. “Well, I guess it’s just luck. Some people are lucky at gardening, others at sports. I guess I’m lucky with children.”

“Are you an artist?” Emilia pointed at the drawing book.

“Not exactly. I’m a fashion designer. I design clothes —women’s clothes most especially. I’m currently designing with the Ralph Lauren Corporation. I’m thinking of branching out, though. Starting my own fashion brand. How does The Lotus sound? The logo could be a Lotus. Or is that too narcissistic?"

“It’s not narcissistic. It’s original. Your fashion brand deserves to be named after you. After all, you are the designer. And besides, all the best fashion brands are a little narcissistic. I can name a couple; Calvin Klein, Louis Vuitton, Marks & Spencer. All those are named after people, right?”

Lotus grinned. “I guess so.”

“You come here every day?” Emilia couldn’t imagine coming here every day to be driven mad by the noise of too many squealing children. She already had Billy. Billy was equivalent to too many squealing children.

“I do. But for selfish reasons. I come here to design. I find my inspiration here. My best designs have been birthed here in front of this duck pond. A lot of people know that this is my bench. I have all but scratched my name into the wood with a sharpie.”

“Can I see them? Your designs?”

Lotus opened the first page of her drawing book, and Emilia was in awe of what she was seeing. It was a short royal blue off-shoulder feather dress that looked like something Tinkerbell would wear. It was feathery, but not too feathery, that it looked outrageous. It wasn’t Emilia’s style, but she could see one of the Kardashians paying two hundred thousand dollars for it.

“This is the first of my spring designs. The rest are not complete yet.” Lotus said, looking sheepish.

“Wow. Like, wow. And don’t take this ‘wow’ lightly. I envy everyone who has the Art gene in them. I can’t even draw stick people well. Even Billy draws better than me.”

Lotus threw her head back and laughed. “You sell yourself short, Emilia. Everyone has something they can do.”

“I am a speech pathologist. I like to believe I’m good at that.” Emilia said.

“Wow,” Lotus said, “And don’t take this ‘wow’ lightly. I envy everyone who has the brain to  study and diagnose speech and language disorders.”

Emilia smiled. “Touché.”

For the next hour, Emilia watched Lotus draw while Landon and Billy played with the ducks. Billy was actually smiling and laughing. Emilia did not know when she’d last heard him laugh. Emilia was happy, too. Believe it or not, Lotus was the first real friend she’d made since moving to Atlanta over a year ago. Her paranoia made it difficult to trust people. But Lotus seemed alright. Alright enough, not to be a serial killer.

Halfway through shading a pair of pink flower themed sweatpants ( Lotus really loved Flowers), Lotus turned and said, “Can I tell you something? Did you know that Piedmont Park was where the first edition of the Atlanta Film Festival was held?”

The topic change caught Emilia off guard. But she recovered quickly. Then it hit her. “Wait, so Samantha Carmichael disappeared from here?” The thought of it made her sick.

Lotus sucked on her pencil. “Yes. Do you want to know something else? Samantha Carmichael had a boyfriend.”

“Those are some pretty dangerous assertions, Lotus. Where did you get this information? It’s not on the news. No boyfriend was ever questioned by the police as far as I know.”

“I’m kinda obsessed with the Samantha case. It may be one of the main reasons why I keep coming here. I want to feel connected to her, to find out how she felt all those years ago. Also, I dated a cop once. He got me the information. Ask a man anything before sex and he will get it for you quicker than you can blink.”

Emilia chuckled, then turned to the children. A duck was chasing Billy, and Landon was dying of laughter. She smiled. “It’s hot out. Let me go get them some drinks. Anything in particular that I should bring for you or Landon?”

“I guess you could get us juice: Passion for me. And mango for Landon.”

Emilia’s jaw was on the floor. “Landon takes fruit juice without screaming your ear drum off first? Because it seems to me that Billy only considers ice cream a beverage worth consuming.”

Lotus chuckled. “Bring mango juice for Billy. He will take it if he sees Landon taking it or so help me God, I will whoop that spoiled boy six ways to Sunday.”

Emilia laughed and headed for the place where she’d seen the juice dispensers. She would have mango juice, too. Fingers crossed that Billy would actually take the juice and not pour it all over Emilia in protest. The only time Billy took something healthy was when he was bribed or when her husband gave it to him: Billy had a serious man-crush on Archer.

The guy who was manning the juice dispenser was also manning an ice cream machine. Emilia counted herself lucky that she’d not brought Billy along, otherwise there would be hell to pay if she picked the juice over the ice cream.

The juice was placed in one of those black trays that held four cups. Emilia paid twelve dollars for the juice. Twelve freaking dollars. Was she buying liquid gold? She had just turned to leave when she bumped —no, slammed— into someone. The juice went flying, spilling all over the ground, and she would have joined the juice on the ground if a pair of hands had not come around her waist to hold her in place.

Emilia stared into a pair of dark, cute doe eyes,  the longest lashes she’d ever since on a man, an aquiline nose, and enticing red lips.

Tyler. Again.

She thought she’d lost him. At some point in her panic to reach Piedmont Park, Tyler’s car had disappeared, and she’d convinced herself that she’d been overreacting, that she’d been overthinking things. Staring at him now,  his hands on her waist (very near her ass), his eyes filled with (fake) concern, Emilia couldn’t help but think that Tyler was engineering these meetings. She extricated herself from his arms and slid her purse higher on her shoulder. The juice was unsalvageable. She had to buy new cups. At twelve dollars. Again.

As if reading her mind, Tyler said. “I should buy you new drinks.” When Emilia opened her mouth to argue, he held up his hand.  “No buts. I will buy you the drinks. It was my fault I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Emilia tried to smile, but it came out strained. “Are you stalking me?”

Tyler smiled. He actually smiled. Who smiles when they are being accused of stalking? A guilty person, that’s who. “Are you calling me a modern-day Joe Goldberg?” When Emilia did not rise to the bait of his joke, Tyler continued. “I could say the same thing about you, Emilia. I could also accuse you of being intentionally clumsy when I’m around so that we bump into each other.”

Now, Emilia smiled. “Ouch. Your opinion of me is so low that you think that I would engineer this chance bump-into-each-other encounters that are only found in horrible romantic comedies and Indian shows just to get a man’s attention? Respect me.”

Tyler smiled that devilish smile. “I don’t know, Emilia. Are you trying to get my attention?”

Emilia used her left hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. It was intentional so that Tyler could see the ring glinting in the sunlight. He could not miss it unless he was blind. “Why are you here, Tyler James?”

“Gosh, Emilia.” Tyler’s eyes darkened imperceptibly. “Are you that paranoid that you think I’m actually stalking you? Fine, if you should know. I’m one of the organizers of the Atlanta Film Festival, which begins on Monday, and we need some funds to keep up the advertising and pay for the décor. So, I’m here to see an investor who is willing to contribute a large sum towards the project. She has a cranky son, so she asked to meet here instead of at the office.” Tyler argued, then walked away from her, stomping his feet. He was angry. And hella childish for a fifty-eight year old.

I’m not paranoid, Emilia thought. I’m just intuitive. I see through you.

Something her husband (he was a detective) had said popped into her mind; Liars offer too much information, babbling with excessive detail to convince themselves or others of what they are saying.

If what her husband said was true, then Tyler was lying.

Watching Tyler leave, Emilia couldn’t help but think back to what Lotus had said:  Samantha had a boyfriend.

Tyler was fifty-eight. He had told her so back at the KFC parking lot. That would have made him eighteen back in 1981 when Sam disappeared. If she was asked to bet, Emilia would bet her entire life savings that Tyler had been that boyfriend. It was just a feeling she had.

And when a girl went missing, the boyfriend was always involved. Always.

☆☆☆

The next chapter is out as well.