Finding Perfect (Hopeless 2.6)

“But you’re annoying. It might work for you.”

Should I be offended by that? “What does me being annoying have to do with it?”

Hannah picks my phone up and puts it back in my hand. “You have to be persistent to be annoying. Be persistent with her.”

I look at my phone. “I don’t even know who to call. I don’t know what school it was.”

Hannah asks for the name of the town Six did her foreign exchange in, and then writes down three numbers as she searches the internet. I can’t remember the name of the lady Six said she knew, but I do remember she said she was American. I call the first two schools and ask if they have an American teacher on the faculty and both say no.

I dial the third number with little hope left. A woman answers in Italian.

“Do you speak English?” I ask her.

“Yes. How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a teacher. An American teacher. I can’t remember her name but I need to speak to her.”

“We have one American teacher on staff. Ava Roberts.”

“Ava!” I yell. That’s it! That’s the name Six mentioned last night. “Yes,” I say, trying to calm myself. I’m standing now and I don’t even remember standing up. I clear my throat. “May I please speak to Ava Roberts?”

“One moment.” I’m placed on hold and my heart is pounding. I use my t-shirt to wipe sweat from my forehead.

“What’s happening?” Chunk asks, appearing a little more interested.

“I’m on hold. But I think this is the right school.”

Hannah brings her hands to her mouth right when someone picks up on the other end. “Ava Roberts, how can I help you?”

My voice is shaking when I start to speak. “Hi. Hello.” I clear my throat again. “My name is Daniel Wesley.”

“Ah, a fellow American,” she says. She sounds friendly. “Are you wanting to sign up as an exchange student?”

“No. No, I’m in college. I’m calling about something else. It might be weird, I don’t know.”

There’s a pause. “Okay,” she says, drawing the word out. I hear the sound of a door close, as if she’s giving this conversation privacy. “What can I help you with?”

“Um. Do you remember a student by the name of Six Jacobs? Or maybe she went by Seven Jacobs?”

The lack of reply on her end gives me my answer. She definitely knows who I’m talking about. It doesn’t mean I’ll get any answers, but it feels good to know I’m on the right track.

“Daniel, you said?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Daniel, I hope you understand that I’m not allowed to discuss students in any capacity. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

She knows. She knows why I’m calling. I can hear the fear in her voice.

“Don’t hang up,” I beg. “Please. I just. Okay, so I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume you’re the teacher who helped Six find an adoption agency. She mentioned you knew a couple who was looking to adopt, which means you might still know the couple. Which means you’re the only living person who might can tell us where our baby is.”

More heart-pounding silence. “Why are you calling me? I’m not allowed to discuss this.”

“We just want to know that he’s okay.”

“It was a closed adoption, Daniel. I’m sorry. I can’t legally discuss this with anyone.”

“I know.” My voice is desperate. I’m scared she’s about to hang up, so I just start talking faster, hoping to get it all out before she does. “We know you can’t discuss it. We aren’t asking for contact. And I’m not calling because we want him back. I mean, if he’s not in a good situation, we do, but if he’s happy and his parents are happy, that’ll make us happy. We just…” I feel out of my element. Nervous. I feel like I don’t know how to ask this woman for a morsel of information. But then I think about what Hannah said. She’s right. I am annoying. I’m persistent. I blow out a breath and continue. “She cries, you know. Every night. It’s the not knowing that kills her. I don’t know if you have a way of contacting the people who adopted him, but if you do, maybe they wouldn’t mind just sending her an email. An update. Even if you just respond with one sentence saying he’s fine, I’m sure that would mean the world to Six. That’s all I’m asking for. Just…it’s hard, you know? Not knowing. It’s really hard on her.”

There’s a long silence. Such a long silence. I’m worried she hung up, so I look down at the phone, but it still says the call is connected. I put it on speaker and wait. Then I hear something that sounds like a sniffle come from the phone.

Is she crying?