There are certain moments I can remember without trying.
I don't have to close my eyes.
I don't have to search through old memories.
They come back on their own.
The afternoon I went inside for sunscreen is one of them.
It was such an ordinary thing.
I wasn't leaving for the day.
I wasn't going anywhere far.
I only needed something from inside the house.
I had been outside with my family, and I knew the sun was strong.
Cassie was near the lake.
That was exactly why I always paid attention.
I wanted to make sure she had what she needed before spending more time outside.
I was gone for approximately four minutes.
Four minutes.
At the time, I had no reason to believe those few minutes would become something I would remember for the rest of my life.
When I returned, I looked toward the dock.
I expected to see my daughter.
I expected to see her bright orange vest.
I expected to find her doing something ordinary.
But she wasn't there.
I looked again.
The space where I expected her to be was empty.
Then I noticed something else.
Trey's jet ski was gone too.
For a moment, I didn't understand what I was seeing.
I looked toward the water.
Then toward the people around the dock.
I tried to find an explanation that made sense.
There wasn't one.
I asked my mother where Cassie was.
My voice must have sounded more worried than I intended.
She didn't seem particularly concerned.
She casually moved her drink toward the lake.
She told me Trey had taken Cassie out for a ride.
I stared at her.
I couldn't believe she was telling me this as if it were nothing.
Cassie was seven.
Trey had been drinking.
And nobody had thought to ask me.
I immediately said what I was thinking.
He had been drinking since noon.
I wasn't making an accusation based on something I had just discovered.
I knew what I had seen throughout the afternoon.
I knew how long he had been drinking.
I knew his history.
And I knew that putting my little girl on a jet ski with him was not something I would have allowed.
My father didn't share my concern.
He said Trey was fine.
He pointed out that Trey had grown up around the lake.
That was his explanation.
As if knowing a place made someone immune to bad judgment.
As if years of experience could erase the alcohol in his system.
I wanted to ask why nobody had called me.
I wanted to know who had agreed to let him take her.
But my attention had already moved toward the water.
I raised my hand above my eyes.
I searched the distance.
At first, I could barely make out the jet ski.
It was far from shore.
The engine was carrying across the water, and I could see it moving quickly.
Too quickly for my comfort.
Then it changed direction.
It wasn't traveling smoothly.
It was weaving.
I watched it move from one direction to another.
My stomach tightened.
I couldn't tell exactly what Trey was doing.
But I knew I didn't like the way he was handling the machine.
I kept watching.
I couldn't look away.
Then the jet ski struck a wake.
Everything changed in that instant.
I saw a small figure separate from the back.
A flash of pink.
A little body thrown away from the machine.
For one terrible moment, I couldn't make my mind accept what my eyes had just seen.
Then I understood.
Cassie had fallen.
She was in the water.
And Trey was still moving.
I screamed.
I don't remember deciding to scream.
It happened before I could think about it.
My body reacted before my mind had caught up.
I expected Trey to stop.
I expected him to turn around immediately.
I expected him to understand that a child had just fallen off the jet ski.
He didn't.
The machine continued across the water.
I watched it move farther away from the place where Cassie had fallen.
My father grabbed my shoulder.
I turned toward him, but my eyes kept returning to the lake.
He told me not to make a scene.
He said Trey would go back for her.
I wanted to believe him.
I wanted that to be true more than anything.
Because if Trey turned around, if he went back immediately, there was still a chance that everything could be handled.
But the jet ski kept going.
I could see it moving.
I could see the distance between the machine and the place where my daughter had disappeared.
And I could not understand why nobody else seemed to be reacting the way I was.
My father was still talking.
My mother was still there.
The afternoon was still happening around us.
But I was no longer part of that afternoon.
I was watching my seven-year-old daughter somewhere out on the lake.
I didn't know whether she was frightened.
I didn't know whether she could keep herself above the water.
I didn't know whether she was calling for me.
I knew only that she had fallen.
And the person responsible for taking her out there wasn't turning around.
I watched the jet ski make a wide turn.
For a moment, I thought Trey was finally going back to her.
But I couldn't tell exactly where he was going.
I kept looking toward the water.
I kept waiting for the machine to approach the place where I had seen Cassie fall.
It didn't happen the way I expected.
Instead, the jet ski came back toward the dock.
Trey was returning.
Alone.
I looked at him as he approached.
I searched behind him.
I searched the water around the machine.
I searched for the pink swimsuit.
There was no sign of Cassie.
I felt something inside me begin to collapse.
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: My Brother Returned With Something Orange in His Hand, and Nobody at the Dock Seemed to Understand What It Meant
The One Rule I Never Let My Daughter Forget, and the Family That Thought I Was Being Far Too Careful
Part 2 of 20
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