Sounds Like Obsession (Sounds Like 1)

It had been Jennifer Seavers in Charleston who knew Ethan. She hadn’t known my mother well, but she remembered Ethan from the study lounge. It was all she could give me. A name. I realized the slightly graying mother of four only did that because she felt sorry for me. She told me she and her husband had fostered a few children over the years. It was enough to make her sympathize with my story. She couldn’t tell me where to find Penny Neworth, but she thought Ethan might have kept in touch with her.

I wasn’t sure why that would be the case now that I had met him. Who knows what he was like twenty-eight years ago? Maybe he had been charming as a twenty-year-old. Or a good listener. Maybe he was someone my mom thought was funny or told good stories. Maybe he was a straight-up flirt, or the nerdy type. It was my job to figure out the connection. The more I knew about him, the more I’d know about my mom.

I turned off the ignition and grabbed the recorder. I decided to go straight to the side kitchen door this time. He didn’t seem like a front door kind of man.

The interior door to the kitchen was still closed. I knocked.

I lifted on my tiptoes to see above the white café curtain. There were no lights. No sounds of anyone cooking. Max wasn’t around either.

I knocked again. “Ethan? Are you home? It’s me, Sydney. I came back in case we could talk. Are you there? Maybe I could explain more about my story. I’m sorry if I surprised you. I just want to know who my mom is.” I waited, but there was no movement. “I don’t have to share your interview. I can turn off the microphone,” I offered. It wasn’t how I wanted to do things, but I had set my priorities. Finding my mom meant more to me than my podcast.

I made a semi-circle to the front door and rang the doorbell. If he was inside, I wasn’t able to coax him out. I sat on the front steps, hoping he’d drive up any minute, or change his mind and open the door.

I’d been in this place before. The quiet and stillness of waiting. Sometimes I recorded while I waited, but not tonight. The Texas sunset fell around me. The sky was almost magenta. I tucked my feet closer under my knees and watched the hues deepen as the sun sank lower.

I waited two hours. And no Ethan Howard. I combed through my phone and read social media posts from friends. There were snaps of cocktails. Pictures of a group on vacation. Even a new baby. How had I missed Emma’s pregnancy announcement? Six months of one singular focus had turned me into a chronic workaholic.

I sighed, realizing what a bad friend I had been lately. What a bad daughter. What a terrible sister. The podcast consumed my life, but I wasn’t willing to give it up. I knew I wouldn’t, and anyone close to me knew that too.

After scrolling through every post and catching up, I made the mistake of checking my email.

The icy chill raced through my veins when I saw the subject line in my inbox. Why was he back? Why had he sent another one after it had been so long? What did it mean?

I clicked on the little envelope next to the subject and it popped open, but just then I heard the squeak of breaks and looked up to see Ethan Howard steering his pickup truck into the driveway. Max’s head hung out the window.

I shoved my phone in my pocket and slowly approached the truck. I couldn’t tell if he was frustrated or angry I had returned.

“Hi, Ethan.” I waved lightly.

“You’re back.”

I nodded. “I just want to talk. We don’t have to do the microphone thing at all. Really.”

He opened the passenger door for Max. The dog hopped to the broken concrete and ran toward my shoes, sniffing uncontrollably. I patted his head.

“Hey, boy. I’m Sydney.” I scratched behind his ears, kneeling to get on his level.

“Watch out. He’ll lick you to death.”

I laughed. “I had dogs growing up. I’m ok with that.”

“So you do have parents?” Ethan took off his ball cap, embroidered with the big Cowboys’ star on the front and situated it over his forehead.

“I do. I’ve always known I was adopted.” I rose from the crouched position.

“Then why are you trying to track down Penny?”

I had to keep the bubble of hope from floating up and out. He acknowledged her and that was a start.

“I’ve always wanted to know about my birth parents. I think that’s kind of a natural reaction to adoption. Wanting to know your roots. Your biological history.”

“Huh.” He stood there. I was afraid to move. Afraid to invite myself in. Afraid to press the record button.

“It might not seem like much, but anything you can tell me about Penny could help me find her. I’d like to meet her.”

“What if she doesn’t want to meet you?”

“I can deal with that.”