firmly behind her.
She sits down back to business as usual, and she scoots her keyboard a half inch closer to her. “Have you been using my computer?”
Her question is more of an accusation.
I open my mouth to deny it, but Effie holds up a hand. “Don’t waste your breath with one of your lies.” Her fingers aggressively
punch a number of keys and the screen goes black. “Don’t you ever”—her voice is low and shaking, she is so angry—“use my computer
unless you are specifically directed. Do you understand?”
I nod. A few strands of hair have sprung free from her bun. She smoothes them back. She glances in the direction of Dad’s
office and lowers her voice. “We will not tell your father about this little breach of protocol.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I’m sure she’s not doing it to spare me. I’m sure she’d get in trouble too if anyone found
out.
“Don’t let it happen again.” Then she looks at me for what feels like the first time since I started to work with her. The
hard lines fade from her brow. “Neva, you don’t want to know too much.”
What is she talking about? I’m tired of secrets, of living in the dark. I want to know everything.
“Once you know something you can never un-know it.” She turns to her computer screen and clears her throat. “What are you
waiting for?” Any softness from earlier vanishes. “Get back to work.”
* * *
I drive home with my dad in silence. I want to ask him so many things. I hear Effie telling me I can’t un-know anything. When
he pulls up in our driveway, I hop out of the car.
“Where are you going? Your mom will have dinner,” he calls after me.
“I need some exercise,” I yell back.
At first I walk. Then I jog. Then I run as if I’m being chased. My lungs are burning. My eyes are stinging. Sweat is pouring
down my temples and dripping into my eyes. I know what I’ve got to do.
I’m standing in front of Nicoline’s house—at least it’s the address listed in her GovNet file. It’s a small brick house with
boarded-up windows. I would think it was abandoned if there wasn’t light seeping though a split in one of the boards.
Before I lose my nerve, I knock on the door. The second my knuckles hit the wood, I want to bolt. I force myself to stay.
One phrase echoes in my brain and keeps me rooted to the spot: Reproductive Status pending.
The woman who opens the door looks like she’s been in bed. Her clothes are wrinkled and baggy. But her eyes look as if she
hasn’t slept for days. The dark rings around her eyes don’t dull the fine red lines etched on the whites of her eyes.
I open my mouth to speak and get a whiff of her. She smells like our compost heap when my mom stirs it. I rub my nose and
hold my breath.
“Mrs. Brady,” I start, “you said Nicoline is grounded, but I really need to speak to her.” The woman looks up at me blankly.
“Please—it’s important.”
Her face creases as she makes this low guttural noise that doesn’t sound human. She is sobbing, but there are no tears—only
this hoarse moan.
“She’s not here, is she?” I ask, but as soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back. I don’t want to know.
The woman shakes her head.
“Where is she?” I ask.
The woman takes a series of deep breaths. “They. Took. Her.”
I don’t have to ask who. “I’m so sorry.” The memories of the night they took my grandma come flooding back. I know the loss
she’s feeling.
She looks around. “I’m not supposed to say. I didn’t say, okay?”
“Okay.”
She notices my government-issued name badge.
“You!” she screams. “This is all your fault. You and that other friend of yours. Why didn’t they take you?” She slaps me across
the face. The sting and force of it push me back a few steps. She slams the door. I cup my face where the heat of her anger
burns.
Oh, God, how I wish I could un-know
She sits down back to business as usual, and she scoots her keyboard a half inch closer to her. “Have you been using my computer?”
Her question is more of an accusation.
I open my mouth to deny it, but Effie holds up a hand. “Don’t waste your breath with one of your lies.” Her fingers aggressively
punch a number of keys and the screen goes black. “Don’t you ever”—her voice is low and shaking, she is so angry—“use my computer
unless you are specifically directed. Do you understand?”
I nod. A few strands of hair have sprung free from her bun. She smoothes them back. She glances in the direction of Dad’s
office and lowers her voice. “We will not tell your father about this little breach of protocol.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I’m sure she’s not doing it to spare me. I’m sure she’d get in trouble too if anyone found
out.
“Don’t let it happen again.” Then she looks at me for what feels like the first time since I started to work with her. The
hard lines fade from her brow. “Neva, you don’t want to know too much.”
What is she talking about? I’m tired of secrets, of living in the dark. I want to know everything.
“Once you know something you can never un-know it.” She turns to her computer screen and clears her throat. “What are you
waiting for?” Any softness from earlier vanishes. “Get back to work.”
* * *
I drive home with my dad in silence. I want to ask him so many things. I hear Effie telling me I can’t un-know anything. When
he pulls up in our driveway, I hop out of the car.
“Where are you going? Your mom will have dinner,” he calls after me.
“I need some exercise,” I yell back.
At first I walk. Then I jog. Then I run as if I’m being chased. My lungs are burning. My eyes are stinging. Sweat is pouring
down my temples and dripping into my eyes. I know what I’ve got to do.
I’m standing in front of Nicoline’s house—at least it’s the address listed in her GovNet file. It’s a small brick house with
boarded-up windows. I would think it was abandoned if there wasn’t light seeping though a split in one of the boards.
Before I lose my nerve, I knock on the door. The second my knuckles hit the wood, I want to bolt. I force myself to stay.
One phrase echoes in my brain and keeps me rooted to the spot: Reproductive Status pending.
The woman who opens the door looks like she’s been in bed. Her clothes are wrinkled and baggy. But her eyes look as if she
hasn’t slept for days. The dark rings around her eyes don’t dull the fine red lines etched on the whites of her eyes.
I open my mouth to speak and get a whiff of her. She smells like our compost heap when my mom stirs it. I rub my nose and
hold my breath.
“Mrs. Brady,” I start, “you said Nicoline is grounded, but I really need to speak to her.” The woman looks up at me blankly.
“Please—it’s important.”
Her face creases as she makes this low guttural noise that doesn’t sound human. She is sobbing, but there are no tears—only
this hoarse moan.
“She’s not here, is she?” I ask, but as soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back. I don’t want to know.
The woman shakes her head.
“Where is she?” I ask.
The woman takes a series of deep breaths. “They. Took. Her.”
I don’t have to ask who. “I’m so sorry.” The memories of the night they took my grandma come flooding back. I know the loss
she’s feeling.
She looks around. “I’m not supposed to say. I didn’t say, okay?”
“Okay.”
She notices my government-issued name badge.
“You!” she screams. “This is all your fault. You and that other friend of yours. Why didn’t they take you?” She slaps me across
the face. The sting and force of it push me back a few steps. She slams the door. I cup my face where the heat of her anger
burns.
Oh, God, how I wish I could un-know
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