Sarah Sparrow - A Guide for Murdered Children

She said she’d be back at ten.

Detroit was an hour south of Richmond, where she lived (sharing her home more or less with Daniel now), and she did have trouble with the address Annie gave her—Lydia wasn’t so wonderful with directions, even with GPS. When she arrived at the church, she couldn’t for the life of her make sense of where she was supposed to go. She’d forgotten that just before leaving her cabin, Annie added that the room she’d be looking for was in the basement. The block was so dark and there were tall, tall trees, what looked like a forestful. She was in tears and about to leave when a funny-looking man with a twitch came out, looked around and waved her over; she got the feeling he’d been sent after her. He introduced himself as Bumble and said he was “the sentry — I help Annie.” He was very odd, to say the least, but his smile disarmed her. Bumble beckoned her to follow and they took the stairway down. At the bottom, he pointed to a half-open door. She smiled at him nervously and he politely but firmly encouraged her to go in. When she gently pushed through, she saw that the Meeting was already in progress.

Five people sat in chairs that formed a circle in the center of the smallish room. Annie presided, looking more beautiful to Maya than she did on the train. She wore turquoise jewelry, a silver pin in her collar and a long black dress like the ones Spanish royalty wore in the paintings Lydia saw when she visited the Museo Nacional del Prado during gap year. Annie stood and went to the door to hug her. Then she turned to the group and said, “Everyone—this is Maya.” They smiled and shouted, “Welcome!” Annie pointed to one of two vacant chairs and the newcomer went to sit. But before she did, she picked up a pamphlet resting there— Maya was written on it above a glittery unicorn that warmed her heart. Then she glanced at the empty seat beside her; the pamphlet on it was addressed to Troy .

It was hard for her to focus during the Meeting. When she looked around, it seemed a lot of the others—so-called landlords and their invisible child-tenants—were similarly bewildered. One of them, called Dabba Doo, looked to be somewhere in his sixties. He had a quirky sense of humor and wore a tweed suit without shoes. Another was a blond girl named Violet, an absolute stunner. Most were well-dressed, except for a wiry black fellow in sweatpants; apparently, he was a yoga teacher. During the Meeting, some of the guests burst into tears without provocation, while others simply doodled on their Guide s. Violet and the yogi peppered the Porter with questions that seemed either to make great sense or no sense at all. Annie was patient and motherly, occasionally dispensing hugs and Kleenex to the frustrated and distraught.

At Meeting’s end, everyone stood and held hands for the Serenity Prayer:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Lydia had been to a few AA meetings with alcoholic friends, but that was years ago. She wondered how she could have known the prayer so well. It was an easy one, but easy to stumble over too—maybe it was the effect of saying it en masse. Before Annie walked Lydia to her car, they said their goodbyes to Bumble as he restored order to the room.

Once outside, the Porter said, “I didn’t expect you so soon.”

Lydia forgot about the list of questions she’d prepared; suddenly, all of them seemed to evaporate.

“I’m not the best artist but I hope you liked the unicorn,” said Annie.

“Oh my God, I loved it!” she exclaimed.

“Things will become clearer—you’ll be surprised how quickly that will happen. But at first, it’s a bit of a struggle. Just try not to think that much. Trust —that everything is as it should be. Turn your head off! Do you think you can do that, Maya?” She really didn’t know what Annie meant but said yes. “And I know it’s confusing but I like to call the children by their birth names, not the names of their landlords. It seems to help with the… well, it just seems to help.” Annie saw that along with Maya’s Guide , she was clutching the one with Troy’s name; Lydia couldn’t remember having picked it up. Annie took it from her hand and said, “He’ll be at the next one—the boys are always a little bit slower to get here than the girls. It’s best he take it from the chair himself, when he comes.”

Lydia didn’t know what she meant. She didn’t know what any of it meant but right then tried to turn off her head, as the Porter had advised.

“Do you know who he is yet?” asked Annie, with that lovely smile. “Do you know who Daniel is?”

“I don’t even know who I am!” she answered, bursting into hysterical giggles.

Annie delighted in that and giggled along. “Good Lord. That is the truest and most charming thing!”

“Am I Maya or Lydia?” she asked, solemnly.

“A little of both,” said Annie. She hugged her close. “Don’t worry—I’m afraid I don’t know who I am either! But I’ve turned my head off so long, I don’t need to know. Not anymore. I’m just… grateful. And you will be too. Be patient.”

Lydia got in her car and rolled down the window.

Annie leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I love you,” she said. “I really do, you know.”

“I love you too,” said Lydia—the first thing all night she was certain of.

3.

Daniel was in his PJs, fast asleep on the couch, when she got home.

The TV was on mute. He’d been watching an old episode of The Rifleman . Lydia sat down next to him, overwhelmed with the night’s experience, overwhelmed by love. She closed her eyes and fell right to sleep. It was the first time since she had died that her sleep was dreamless.

No anguish, no whoosh —no train.

When Daniel awakened, he was happy to see her beside him. His heart leapt within as he kissed the crown of her head. The mouth of her purse gaped open and he plucked out the Guide . He saw Maya written on its cover and was puzzled.

He opened it to the first page:

Rule Number One: Be GOOD to your NEW BODY!!! Treat it with RESPECT and it will RETURN the favor!!!

He wasn’t all that interested; he was nearly as tired as she.

He stuffed it back in her purse.

Lydia let him sleepwalk her to the bedroom, where he changed her into pajamas that were dotted with little lambs. He tucked them both in; with eyes still closed, she whimpered. He knew what she wanted. He got out of bed to retrieve the stuffed animal that had fallen to the floor. He put it in her arms and she held it to her body, smiling in her sleep.

He held her as tightly as she did the unicorn.

“Sister,” said Daniel beneath his breath, though their relationship’s provenance had yet to surface in his consciousness. He joined her in sleep and was soon in his compartment on the train. A woman came with a tray of toy soldiers, French fries and a milkshake. She said they’d almost arrived at the station and told him to remember an address.

Boys were better at memorizing things.

1.

That Saturday, while others his age were goofing or loitering, one boy knew exactly what he was up to. He was biking to meet a friend at the Cherry Street Mall in Mount Clemens to look at new video games—his real plan being to sneak a peek in the department store window at new fashions for ladies. That’s what he wanted to be: a designer of beautiful clothes for women. A few Christmases ago, his mother got him a subscription to W , and he had stacks of them at home.