Chase
I stare at the full moon from our hotel room.
“Close those blinds, will you, Chase?” Fresh out of his shower, Dad rummages through the hotel dresser for clean clothes.
When I was little and we drove places, I thought the moon followed us; it was always there, no matter which way Dad turned the car. I didn’t know how that was possible.
Then, when he started traveling, he’d call us at night, Aunt Sheila and me. When it was my turn to talk, he told me to look out the window. Are you looking at the moon? he’d ask. I’d nod, cupping the phone. I am too, he’d say. That seemed like magic, like it was connecting us.
I wonder if Mom is looking at it.
But that’s just a silly kid thing. I snap the blinds shut and plop onto my bed. “What do you want to do?”
“Nothing.” He pulls exercise shorts over his boxers. “I’m pretty wiped out.” He stretches out on his bed, aims the remote. “Let’s see what’s on TV.”
My shoulders sink. I pace from the windows across to the door, stopping to read the evacuation plan. Got it. Don’t use the elevators. Use the stairs. I march back to the windows, back to the door, back to the windows, back to the—
“Chase!”
I freeze with my arms in midswing.
He motions with his hand for me to move. “I can’t see the TV with you walking back and forth like that.”
“I thought when we came back we were going to do something.”
He sighs, hits the Mute button. “Sorry, bud. I can hardly lift this remote.”
Dropping my arms, I let my whole body sag. “Come on, Dad. At least go with me to the game room.”
Dad points to the dresser with his remote. “My wallet’s right there.”
Three fives and a one. He’s buying me off, and I accept the offer. Anything’s better than staying in here and just watching TV.
Once downstairs, I’m not thinking Pac-Man; I’m thinking ice cream, but the girl is already mopping the floor of the ice-cream parlor. “Try the dining room,” she says. “I think they’re still open.”
The hallway is dark during the day, but at night it’s downright creepy, the perfect setting for a mystery: Shadows pressed against the walls, holding their secrets close. Who had walked these halls before? The boy strained to see, but the cobwebbed lamps allowed little illumination. The boy hastened his errand.
I swipe a peppermint from the front of the dining room. I don’t see a hostess, so I walk in. I kind of like having the place to myself. Unwrapping my peppermint, I sit down at a table in the middle. Too hard. I leave the plastic wrapper on the table and move on. Hmm, this one is too soft. I weave my way around and take a seat by the windows. Ah, just right. I put my feet up on the chair across from me and stare out the window.
“Um, the kitchen’s closed.” The guy appears out of nowhere.
My feet jerk to the floor. “Do I have to leave?”
The guy shrugs. “Sorry, dude. We’ve got to vacuum and change out table tents …”
He’s waiting for me to get up.
I sigh and push my chair back, then spot the French doors. I bet I could see the moon really well from the dock. “Can I go out there?”
He glances over his shoulder, then back to me. “I’m about to lock those doors,” he says. “But just come back in by the pool.”
Cool. I swing a French door open and a gust of wind pushes me. I hear a dead bolt fall into place behind me, followed by a top lock and a slider. Geez, who do they think’s coming in?
A huge porch wraps around the dining room, but it’s got an overhang, and I won’t be able to see the moon or the stars. I move off the porch, down the steps, and into the darkness; it’s the best way to see the light.
Yep, Big Dipper, Little Dipper, bunch of other stars I don’t know the names of.
I stare at the full moon. Man in the moon. Green cheese moon. Turn-me-into-a-werewolf moon. That would be cool.
Full moon.
It hits me—I don’t know—like a pain in my chest. I told Dad about this once before; he said it was growing pains. But I kept complaining about it, so the doctor had me X-rayed, said I had a good heart, and sent me to a counselor, who said I had a sad heart and needed to talk about it.
I didn’t want to talk to the counselor, but he was eager to fix me. Finally, just to satisfy him and get the sessions over with, I told him I missed my mother, that I felt her in my bones, that I had some sense of her even though I was only, like, two when she left.
After a while, he proclaimed me cured.
I stare at the moon. Man, something hurts. I head back in to Dad.