Page 42 of All of You
Panic rises, starting in my gut, working its way up to my chest and I start to breathe erratically.
“The house, I guess?” I tell him.
Langdon backs out and drops me at Gramps house. I grabmy bag and launch out of the truck barely waving goodbye to him. I fly through the front door. Gramps sits in the living room in the ugly recliner by the TV.
“Where’s mom?” I ask.
“Well hello to you too. How was school?” Gramps says.
I try to slow my heart. My breath. My thoughts. “Hi, Gramps. School was adequate. The camper’s gone. Have you seen mom?”
“Still gone? I figured she’d be back by now.” Gramps pushes the leg rest down and hoists himself from the chair.
“Where’d she go? Do you know?”
“Let’s not jump to any conclusions. How ‘bout we try her phone.”
A smile spreads across my face. Obviously. We can just call her. I relax a little. Gramps wanders to the kitchen. He still has a landline. Like an actual phone plugged into a wall and it’s fifty percent bizarre and fifty percent adorable.
I’d overheard him tell Mom one night that Maeve had refused to let it go. She didn’t want my mom trying to call and not having the number. Broke my heart a little. I wish I could have known her. Surely she couldn’t be so evil that mom could have stayed away forever. I hear Gramps grunting in the kitchen so I join him.
“I keep getting a busy signal.”
I take the phone from him. “Here, let me try. Maybe you have the wrong number.” I dial but it instantly goes to a fastbeep beep beeptone.
It’s off. Her phoneis off.
My heart splutters in my chest. I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. “This really isn’t like her. It doesn’t feel right.”
Gramps awkwardly pats my head. “I’m sure it’s nothing. But tonight why don’t you sleep in your mom’s old room upstairs? You hungry?”
Twenty minutes ago, I was. Now my stomach is sour. I shake my head.
“I have some paperwork to fill out. Some stuff for Mom to sign for tomorrow too.”
“I’ll sign it this time. Whatcha got?”
I grab my bag from the hallway and unload a variety of papers from it onto the dining room table. I sort through the stack and pull out the ones that need signatures and slide them to Gramps along with a pen. He dutifully reads them before signing, which cracks me up because Mom always skipped the reading and just signed her name away.
“Thanks,” I say as he hands them back to me.
“Sure you’re not hungry? I have some leftover pasta salad.”
I nod. “I’m sure.”
“Don’t look so worried kid. She’ll probably be home soon.” He tussles my hair on his way back to the living room.
I want to believe him but this has never happened before and there’s a sinking feeling in my belly.
I stand with a dead smile on my face. “Mind if I take a bath? It’s been a long day.”
Gramps waves his consent from his chair.
I run the bath and wait for it to fill up as a warm place for me. I open all the closet doors looking for a clean towel until I finally find one. The inside of the door frame is marked with penciled lines.
Jenny age six. Jenny aged fill-in-the-blank all the way up to fifteen. Mom was a kid once. I run my fingers over the markings, hoping I can feel a little of my mom’s magic. I don’t. When the tub is full, I hop in and soak. I don’t last long though. I can’t quiet my mind. I feel wrong, pickled, fermented in anxiety-laden thoughts.
I get out and drain the tub hoping it sucks down my worries with it. I toss my clothes back on and am instantly annoyed. My shirt is damp from work and a full day of wearing. Of course, she isn’t here, which means neither are my clothes or any of my things. They’re all in the god damned van. What am I supposed to wear tomorrow? I shoot downstairs again and try calling. Again it doesn’t ring at all before those annoying tones buzz in my ear.
