Finding Rose again.
I think about the Browns with a bitter taste in my mouth. I need to get over my negative thoughts to survive my trip down memory lane.
It makes me sick to think how my foster parent Michael seemed like a loving husband and guardian to misbehaved youth to the outside world. The Browns were well respected in our community. Behind closed doors, the truth couldn’t be any further from that.
Michael once hit me after I got a B-plus on one of my psychology exams during my senior year. A fucking B-plus. I still remember the crazy look in his eyes that day. It looked like he had lost his temper around the house too—there was a mess everywhere. He tried to hit me twice, but I managed to move out of his way. I wasn’t as lucky the second time.
The next hit landed on my nose—I’ll remember the cracking sound for as long as I live. There was so much blood on the kitchen floor. I was spitting it in the sink too. He then hit me one more time in my stomach to keep me quiet. When we finally were at the hospital to get my broken nose checked, he swore at us three to say that we were playing ball.
Sure. Playing football broke my nose twice during my four years in high school. Not the person who was supposed to take care of me. I wasn’t the only one who got to experience Michael Brown’s ill-tempered ways. So many excuses and lies after broken bones and dislocated body parts. His favorite phrase was boys would be boys. It covered our injuries.
It was clear as a day to us kids living under their roof that what they did was wrong. We should have said something earlier. But it’s hard being the victim of something that happens behind closed doors. Who would believe that the guy who dedicated his time to our community was a monster from our nightmares?
Nobody. That’s who. Then he died like a saint in arson—what a joke. And I’m about to go back to the town where it all happened. Just to get Rose back. I hope she realizes how much this means to me.
* * *
Getting out of the rental car hours later, I look around me. I can’t believe I’m in Belchester again. It feels like a dream.Well, more like a nightmare.
Knocking on the door of Helen’s house, I wait. Nothing. No movement. I was sure Rose would be here since Timmy told me she left the city to recharge. Knocking again, I wonder if I made a mistake coming here.
When I’m about to turn around, the door opens. I open my mouth to greet Helen when a man welcomes me instead. Looking at his eyes, I recognize him. The last seven years haven’t been too good for Mr. Summers, but I can still see the man I once knew standing in front of me.
“Hi Mr. Summers, I was wondering if I could talk with Rose?”
“Please call me David, son. Mr. Summers was my dad. But about Rose… You see, she isn’t here.”
His words make me pause. Where else would Rose have gone? He must sense my hesitation and moves out of my way. I walk into the house and look around. My mind is trying to figure out why Rose isn’t here because this is precisely where I expected she’d be hiding from reality.
Turning around, I glance at David. Rose’s dad has always been a mystery to me. I sometimes said hi to him when they lived next door. But he likes to keep to himself. The only thing that connects us is Rose, and she isn’t even here.
Sitting down on the love seat across the old brown recliner, I look around. Not much has changed over the years. The place looks like it did when I helped Grandma Lou move in. It even smells the same— spiced potpourri and underlying scent of bleach.
With confidence that I don’t currently have, I speak. “Do you know where Rose is if she isn’t here?”
“I do, but why should I tell you where she is?” He lifts his eyebrows in question.
I look around, gathering my thoughts. “Look, David. I know you want to protect her. But hear me out. I messed things up and need to fix them before it’s too late. I can’t lose her. She’s my everything.”
David relaxes against the recliner with every detail I share. He enjoys it when he isn’t the one talking. That’s why I’m the one who keeps talking. “I was sure Rose would be here since she left the city. I mean, I asked her roommate Timmy, and it seemed like she was out of town. I didn’t think she would be somewhere else.”
When I finish, his reaction catches me off guard. David laughs. This man that I haven’t seen smiling before laughs at me.Not with me. At me.
As his laughter dies down, he wipes his eyes and apologizes. “I’m sorry for laughing, but I couldn’t help it. It feels like history is repeating itself. You see, my daughter was always like her mother, Rose. They were like two peas in a pod. Stubborn, imaginative peas. When her mother left us, she changed. But recently, she’s gotten her fire back. I think it’s thanks to you. Your love—”
I raise my hand to stop him there. “But I didn’t tell you that I love her. How did you get that from what I just said?”
“Everyone can see that you love her. There’s no way to hide it, son.”
Every time he calls me son, my heart skips a beat. It has been too long since anyone has done that.
“How does loving her have anything to do with where she is?” I wonder.
David laughs again and gets up. I wonder if he’s drunk.No, he isn’t. Weird.
The man walking away from me isn’t the David Summers I expected to see. He walks straight to get something from the other side of the room. When he returns with a stack of postcards, I’m starting to get an idea of where she is. It looks like I need to book another flight.
“Your answer is in these cards. As I said, she’s just like her mother. She runs when things get too heavy, and she has no idea what to do.”
