Things We Didn't Say_ A Novel - Kristina Riggle [49]
The wood floor creaks as Mallory comes into the kitchen, wrapped in a blanket. Casey stands just where she was when the phone rang. She’s wrapped her sweater tight around her, and her eyes are big as she watches me. She bites her knuckle.
“Well?” shrills Mallory, her hair matted from sleeping, a jagged sleep wrinkle down the side of her face.
“The good news is, he apparently is meeting a girl. A real girl, who is also missing. The bad news is, now that the police are satisfied they are runaways, they’re not going to chase them anymore.”
“Oh, my God,” moans Mallory, sinking into a kitchen chair. “He’s never coming home.”
“We don’t know that,” I hasten to say, back to the exhausting job of reassuring, propping up.
Casey moves around in my peripheral vision, and as I join Mallory at the table, Casey plunks a coffee down in front of her.
“I need some cream,” Mallory says, taking the cup without looking at Casey. Like she’s a waitress.
I remember suddenly that it’s Friday. I’m supposed to be at work. Late at night I’d let a call from Kate go to voice mail and never did listen to it. I should have, it was probably about that staffwide meeting.
I bring a coffee with me to the office desk and dial up Aaron.
“Aaron, I’m not coming in today.”
“Shit,” he replies, his fingers clacking on the keys as he talks to me. “I’m shorthanded already. And listen, you should probably call Evelyn.”
Another round of layoffs, just like the last time they called an all-hands meeting.
“Oh, great. I’m toast, aren’t I?”
The clacking pauses. “We don’t know that. They’re talking to everyone individually.”
“I can’t deal with it now. I’m having a crisis at home.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“How?”
“Your dad called this morning already.”
“Dammit.”
“Don’t worry about it, I know the drill. I ended up transferring him to Evelyn. She’ll say no, too, but I didn’t have time to argue with him. But listen, I am sorry. I wish we could help—”
“No, I know. Dylan’s not in town anyway, it seems.”
“Hey, I’ve gotta go, but listen, when you hear something, let us know, okay? Meanwhile, when you can, call Evelyn. About the meeting you missed.”
A voice interrupts us.
“Gotta run, Mike.”
I barely get out a “good-bye” when he hangs up. I don’t mind. The paper still has to come out. Life goes on and all that.
I glance out at the blowing snow whirling in the gunmetal sky. It’s daylight now, I could risk the drive more easily. Except my little Honda wouldn’t be of much use in a wreck. It would crumple like tinfoil.
I hear footfalls on the steps and turn to see Angel. She comes right to me, and I just shake my head. She throws herself into my arms, burying her face. When she steps back I can see from the pale blue hollows under her eyes that she’s slept very little.
“The good news is,” I tell her, smudging a tear away with my thumb, “is that they have confirmed that Tiffany really is a girl.”
I see her relax a few degrees. “Oh, good. Well, that’s good. Can I have some coffee, Dad?”
“We don’t have any lattes or anything, kiddo. Just the boring Maxwell House stuff.”
She shrugs. “I’m so tired.”
“Well, fine. Go ahead, if you can stand it.”
Angel rummages for a cup, and as she’s pouring coffee from the machine, the sight of her performing this simple, adult action thunks me in the chest like an arrow. My girl, my first child, who was a baby when we were still in college and babes ourselves.
Jewel emerges now, her hair knotted from her usual crazy sleeping. She’s rubbing her eyes beneath her glasses, skewing them as she does so they end up crooked on her face.
She looks at the kitchen clock and gasps. “Oh, no! We’ll be late for school!”
For a moment she stares around at everyone in pajamas, none of us hurrying, no one packing lunches. Then her face crumples in. “I forgot!” she cries, and flees back upstairs, wailing. “I forgot!”
Mallory is faster, and closer, so she gets there first. I follow them up the stairs.
Jewel sobs on her bed, burying her face in her blankie. She still keeps the blankie around, but I haven’t seen it much since the first weeks after