The Unforgetting

<p><strong style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Ten years ago Reagan's friend died in a tragic accident.</strong></p><p><strong style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>But what if it wasn't an accident?</strong></p><p></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>The morning after a raging college graduation party we found Lanie Martin lying at the bottom of a ravine her neck snapped in a fatal fall. And I'm not proud of what came next.</span></p><p></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Before we called the police we covered ourselves. Cleaned up from the blow-out at Ella's cabin in the Adirondacks the night before. Got our stories straight. </span></p><p></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Ella begged me not to tell the police what I saw. She insisted that it was an accident-and we all went along. What did I know? I was wasted that night and large chunks of that evening are missing for me. </span></p><p></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>But now in my postpartum state memories are starting to return and I can't help but feel that they might be connected to the soul crushing depression I've been experiencing. Is it guilt? Or do I know more than I think I do?</span></p><p></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>So when I receive Ella's invitation for a ten-year reunion at her family camp-a gathering of remembrance and healing she's calling it-I know I have to go.</span></p><p></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Are the memories I'm struggling to recover the key to my moving on? To staying married to the perfect man and being able to care for my infant son?</span></p><p></p><p><strong style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Or are they a death sentence for me too?</strong></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p>