To Marcus, I fail to come up with a suitable response. He fed me information and all it did was prompt me to rattle off more questions. So I ask him, If I had more questions, would you answer?
Both men respond in the same way the initial messages arrived, one after the other, Cody’s being first.
I’ll talk to you soon. The response from Cody is exactly what I expected.
The exact same response from Marcus does nothing but give me chills: I’ll talk to you soon.
With a shiver running down the length of my neck and trailing over my shoulders, I turn up the heat and head back onto the road.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this is only a distraction and things are going to get worse. I’m only hiding.
I’m grateful to be hiding, though, and with every mile I get closer to my mother’s, I find myself watching the clock and wishing I were home.
For the first time, it’s not my mother and sister who need me, I realize, it’s me who needs them.
With hours to pass on my way up to my hometown and the radio playing, but my unwilling mind not listening, tiny memories come back to me. They seemed so insignificant, these little blips that didn’t really matter when I was younger. But as I sit in the car, turning the heater on and off nearly as much as I shift in my seat, my critical eye taints the sweet memories.
One in particular never made sense.
Mom was sobbing when we got home from a trip that she didn’t come on with us.
I can still hear her wretched cry of relief when we walked into the living room.
“Mom? What’s wrong?” Cadence asked as I stood there in shock, a small doll hanging from my right hand. The floral backpack Cady wore had the gifts we brought back for Mommy. We were so excited to give them to her. All three of us, Daddy included.
Never in my little mind did I expect to come home to my mother crying on the floor of the living room.
“My babies,” my mother cried out and swept Cady into a tight hug. I stayed back watching her sway; I’m sure my expression mirrored Cadence’s shock. “Where were you?” She heaved in a breath at the same time the question ran away from her.
“We were good, so Daddy took us on a trip.”
“A trip?”
“Of course, Mommy.” My father’s voice was far too upbeat at the sight of my mother crying and distraught. Didn’t he see she was scared? He stood behind me in the kitchen, his large hands resting on my shoulders. “Silly Mommy,” he joked. “We’re home,” he said and beamed with a bright smile. It was odd, everything about the moment. Maybe that’s why I remember it so well.
“I got you taffy, Mommy,” I offered and my mother gripped me in the tightest hug, holding on to me and squeezing too tight. I didn’t understand what was wrong with her. Our father said she was just being silly. Back then I felt awful, though, since she’d obviously wanted to come with us. That’s what I thought.
“Of course we came back. We’d never leave you.” I think those were the words from my father. “Family doesn’t ever leave.”
At the time, I was so happy to see my mother smile, wiping under her tired eyes and clinging to me and my sister. We made her happy, although it didn’t make sense that she was upset at all. We’d been good, our grades and our behavior both, so it was wonderful to be rewarded with a trip to the amusement park for the weekend. How could Mom not have known?
The realization never clicked. The pieces didn’t add up and the questions stayed buried at the back of my memory where childish things that didn’t matter went to die.
The crickets are already out and chirping noisily when I pull into the driveway. It’s dark for only being seven but the fall brings early sunsets in this part of the country, especially in these Podunk towns in the mountains of northeastern New York.
The old fence in the backyard has been patched with newer pickets that stand out even in the dim illumination provided by the streetlights. They’re a bright white among the dingy, worn paint of the others. The grass needs to be cut too. I imagine that’s what my father would be doing this weekend if he weren’t headed out for a conference. Vaguely I wonder what conference it is. If I was earlier in my career, I’d have already texted him and would have preferred to spend my weekend at the conference rather than the dinner and movie plans my sister concocted. That seems like a lifetime ago too.
Sitting back in my car I stare up at the two-story family home with dark red brick and cream shutters. So many memories are carved into the walls of this house. Good ones and bad ones both, but right now, all I can envision are the times I smiled along with my sister.