Chapter Seven

Without

Southern Illinois moved like molasses.

Even with our detour taking us south of St. Louis, my hopes to make it to Kansas without delay were quickly fading.

Reid sat behind the driver’s wheel. Leaps of faith, AJ. I yawned. I refused to let myself sleep.

“I didn’t mean to upset you this morning,” Reid said.

“It’s okay,” I said, sipping my now cold, but still delicious, coffee. I wanted to savor it. Reid or Will had guessed correctly—more cream than sugar. “No need to keep apologizing. You’re sounding like me now.”

“You feel better?”

“Not really…”

“You were wheezing last night.”

“You heard me?”

He shrugged. “The night is quiet, except for the sounds of people sleeping.”

“Don’t sleep much, Reid?”

“Not much these days. I can get by on less.”

“You spend your time reading the classics and pondering life’s grand questions.” I meant it as a jab, but it came out harsher than intended.

“Sometimes.” He flashed me a sideways frank glance. “Like I said, my sister, Lily, she works with special kids…” He broke off, but his gaze went to the rearview mirror. Will was happily playing with his Lego bricks, apparently having built a ship for his figures to fly around in. He made blaster noises and hummed to himself.

“He knows,” I said quietly. I had the talk with Will only recently. He seemed unfazed by it. This admission about a sister working with special-needs children explained Reid’s interest in the area.

Reid nodded but said nothing further.

I looked at my phone for the hundredth time. No messages from Brandon, Sarah, or Dr. Martin. It was time to make my daily futile calls to the airline and several others that I’d listed in case Brandon had changed airlines, as well as to Brandon, but I paused. “Do you have a smartphone?”

Reid’s eyebrows shot up but quickly settled in place. “Yeah, but it’s not working well. You can try.” He pulled it from his shirt pocket and handed it to me. “You don’t have one?”

“Thanks. Nope. I’m a bit slow on accepting technology. And my laptop was stolen.”

“You’ve had a fun run of it, hey?”

I snorted. “You can say that.”

I first dialed Brandon. Nothing. Then the airport. Nothing. Then the airline. I refrained from the phone call to Dr. Martin in Reid’s presence. I could try her later. Geesh, this was getting old. I felt like a frustrated child who couldn’t accomplish a simple task. Channeling my inner Finn, who notoriously pitched a fit when a contraption of his wouldn’t work “just so,” I stifled a groan. “Can I try my email?”

“Of course. Don’t want to dash your hopes, but I’ve had no luck with anyone west of the Mississippi.”

I tried anyway. I typed in the email server, waiting while my mailbox loaded. I thought of the smartphone I’d finally purchased six months ago, now sitting in a box on my dresser, collecting dust. Harrison’s jesting tone in my constant reminiscing had coaxed me to buy one. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to use it. All I saw was Harrison, hardworking breadwinner, constantly getting pings of emails at godforsaken hours. Harrison, the man who worked tireless hours, stressed about problems with his preclinical studies, all so he could provide for his family and for Will to receive the extra therapies and care he required. I just want you to be happy, AJ, he would say. He had worked hard for me. For us.

And that work had killed him.

A late run to the laboratory on a rainy July night last year due to a technician’s mistake had ended it all for him. I’d been humbled that day with my own prophecy. I’d said work was going to kill him. Well, it wasn’t work entirely. The drunk driver behind the other car’s steering wheel was equally responsible.

Dammit, AJ. Stop this. I cursed in my mind for Will’s sake.

Finally, the page loaded on the smartphone. Dumb phone, I thought. I found my grip clutching Reid’s phone, and I released it into my lap. I gave myself a moment, then checked my email. There was nothing from Brandon. I did have a response from Sarah, which appeared to have been sent a few days ago after my first call to her. I tapped my finger impatiently on my knee as it loaded.

AJ,

I hope you get this email. I wish I could be going with you, and I wish I could dissuade you. No word from Brandon.

Travel on the highways in CA is now prohibited. I couldn’t even try; there are roadblocks everywhere. Some of the ash cloud has drifted west over northern parts of the state but not here. Still always sunny in San Diego despite wave warnings from the tsunami that hit north and west of us. But we were spared.

I know how hard this must be for you right now, with Will and everything that’s happened in the past year. Brandon will keep Finn safe. Remember that trip to Acadia when Will wandered off the trail to follow a stream and Brandon found him…right back where we had started, at the campsite? Sometimes I laugh when I think about how much your man Will is so much like your brother. My point is this: Brandon will protect Finn with all his heart, and Will is your sidekick; he’ll help you through this. Will is your home base, Sis. He’s your constant. He grounds you. And Brandon…he’s Mr. Fix-it himself.

Geesh, now I am rambling. This is me trying to cheer you up. Maybe myself, too. Love you.

I will continue to try the airport and airline. It’ll be all right. I know they made it to Denver. They had to.

Love always, your sis,

Sarah

“Tsunami?” I said aloud.

“Oh yeah, saw that on the news. Tragic,” Reid said.

“Like a big wave?”

“You didn’t see? Impacted Japan, Oregon, and Washington. They think since the tremors have settled, there is no need for the raised alarm, but yeah, a lot of people…” He drifted off.

“Died,” Will finished for him. “It was on the radio, Mom.”

I shook my head as I typed a quick response to let her know where I was, but after another five minutes of waiting for the email to send, I gave up. “Thanks.” I handed it to Reid.

“Sorry,” he said, dropping it into the cup holder.

We drove for a while, all of us quiet as Reid weaved through increasingly congested traffic. I thought about Will. I thought about Finn. I thought about what could be, should be…and what had been.

“What do you want to do about this?” Reid said.

The traffic jam had thickened to a near standstill. I grabbed the atlas. “I don’t know this area at all. What do you think?”

“It’s your car. It’s your decision.”

“Mom’s not great at making up her mind,” Will interjected.

“Thanks, honey.” I shrugged and sighed at Reid’s dubiously furrowed brow. “It is true.”

I flipped through the atlas and ran my finger along a few of the highways on the pages. “If we continue this way, our proposed route would take us through the Mark Twain Wilderness of southern Missouri, then we can cut north to Kansas City. This is a lot of detouring to avoid St. Louis. What if Kansas City is impassable?” I muffled a curse. “From Kansas City, it’s a straight shot on I-70 to Denver.”

“We need to get around all this,” Reid said, flicking his hand to the string of cars before us. “If there’s more precipitation…,” he implied.

“Like ash!” Will said merrily.

I pressed my two fingers against my aching temple. “We need to get off this road regardless. It’s going to eat all of our fuel,” I said, eyeing the gauge. Down to a quarter tank. “How about the next exit, and we can review our options and find gas?”

“Sure,” Reid agreed.

The line for the gas station was worse than the highway. “Jesus,” I mumbled. Thirty minutes later, my fuel gauge reading an eighth of a tank, and my pulse elevated, we made it to the pump. An attendant was controlling it.

“You can only get ten gallons,” he said as I popped out of the car. “And cash only.”

I grimaced. “That’s ridiculous. There are no mandates on gas limits.”

Reid exited the car and slid to my side. “The government isn’t condoning restrictions. Price mandates, yes, but not quantities. We can report you.”

“Right,” I said, sticking my chin up, suddenly dizzy. The gas fumes made me want to puke.

“Come on, what’s the hold up?” a guy yelled from the next car in line.

The attendant, a middle-aged man of wrestler stature, scoffed. “The government ain’t gonna do squat. They have more pressing issues. This is our station. Our gas. The fuel trucks have stopped delivering. Owner’s rules. Ten gallons per day, cash. You can come back tomorrow for another ten gallons. Or move on.” He crossed his beefy arms and gave Reid, who stood six inches shorter than him, a don’t-mess-with-me look. Yeah, I doubted this guy was a regular attendant.

“Okay, fine,” I snapped, opening the gas cap. I reached for the pump, but the man grabbed the nozzle and did it himself. When he was done, I slapped the money in his hand.

“Mom,” Will said as I opened the passenger door to step in. “I have to pee.”

“No bathroom,” the guy said.

“Come on,” I said, gritting my teeth.

He held up a thick, calloused hand. “Look, I would let your boy use it, but the water is not running anymore. They shut it off. Ash contaminating the sewers or something from that rain storm. There’s a wooded spot over yonder,” he said with thumb point to a patch of trees beside the station.

“But there is no ash on the ground,” Will said, perceptively.

“Will?”

“I’ll hold it,” he said, returning to his clipboard drawings.

We stopped for lunch in a picnic area, and Will happily consumed fast-food chicken nuggets while I opened my journal. I sat at the picnic table next to him.

“Want me to check on the tires? Maybe talk with somebody at the store, there, about routes? Get more bottled water?” Reid asked. He pointed to the gas station beside the grassy picnic pavilion.

I nodded. “Thanks. Yes to all of the above.”

I opened the journal to a new page but made another call to Dr. Martin once Reid was out of hearing range. My call didn’t get through to the receptionist. I redialed twice. Nothing. Perhaps in Kansas if I couldn’t locate my prescription, a pharmacist could call my doctor.

Depleted and defeated, I turned to my journal, keeping a watchful half eye on Will as he ate and played.

My thoughts fell upon my own mother, who died from cancer when I was twenty-five. It had left a gaping hole in my life. Then Harrison last year. A larger hole. It had widened a wound that I thought was healed…but it had been left festering.

Now…would I lose my Finn, too?

I paused. Oh, God, my Finn.

A youthful giggle emerged from a child playing at the other picnic pavilion. It sent quivers through my stomach. My Finn’s laugh was a hug for my ears.

Instead of crying, I allowed the ink to be my tears as I poured my thoughts onto the crisp pages. Reid’s conversation about God resetting humanity didn’t sit well with me. I was a woman of faith and fate. Or at least I had been. Maybe I had lost that faith long before I’d lost Harrison.

I paused, letting the wind that stirred the nearby trees envelop me. A sudden chill ran down my spine as I coughed.

I drew my hand to the page, but there was no stopping the dizzying spiral in my head. Too many thoughts bounced around in there like tumbleweeds. The pen fell from my shaking fingers, and I stared at the page. I’d never put it on paper. I’d never said it aloud. Painful thoughts had carved their own permanent residence in my brain, burrowed in the corner, obstinate and refusing to be evicted. I’d come a long way since last year, and I knew with each day, I’d heal more.

My head grew light, my fingers tingled. The pages blurred. The irregular panicked beat of my anxious heart climbed my throat, and I lost my breath.

“Mommm…” Will’s voice came in, higher-pitched than normal.

Then all I saw was black.

****

I awoke in the passenger seat of my SUV.

My scratchy throat and a rumbling in my head prevented me from speaking.

A heavy hand rested on my forehead. “You’re warm. I think you have a fever.”

It was Reid. Startled into the present, I bumped my head on the hanging windshield visor. “Gah.” I leaned back, blinked, and then looked at Reid.

Concerned dark eyes regarded me. His face came into focus as the two Reids merged into one. I reached forward to touch his round chin to ensure that he was not a figment of my imagination. The prickle of coarse stubble awoke the nerve endings in my fingertips. “I’m okay,” I said to him.

“No, you’re not. Take these.” He shoved a water bottle and cold medicine into my hand. He must have raided my trunk stash. I wanted to tell him what I really needed was the second to last antidepressant, too.

I did as told and searched past him for Will.

“Here, Mom!” Will chimed in from the back seat. “Are we going now?”

I shook my head and instantly regretted it.

Reid’s hand had not left my forearm. “I’m okay. It’s just a cold,” I insisted.

“A cold doesn’t make you faint.”

I pulled my arm from his grip, as much as the warm touch of a hand on my skin that was not a child’s comforted me. “Well, a cold topped with driving all day, not sleeping at night, and hardly eating or drinking will do that,” I countered, blinking. And weaning off a powerful medication…I wasn’t sure why I felt shame admitting that part.

He compressed his lips and ran a hand through his hair. His forehead furrowed with a frown.

“Should we stop for the night? Maybe a motel? Let you rest in a real bed. I saw a sign a few miles back,” Reid offered.

“No. We need to keep going. I-I can’t lose another,” I said, my voice hoarse. I battled the darkness. I floated in a murky haze. Disjointed visions entranced me.

“AJ, drink this,” Reid said, tipping the water bottle to my mouth. I gagged on it, as thirsty as I was. It tasted like dust. Reid tried again, and I took a reluctant swallow. I looked at the bottle. The water sloshed around like an upset ocean. I swatted the bottle away and spit the salty sea of rocks. Was he giving me saltwater? Drugging me? What was going on? Was I dreaming? No, no. There was Will. In the back seat.

“No…” Stars danced behind my eyelids. I kept blinking, but the more I did, the grayer Reid became. Now he was ghostly pale, not his radiant sun-kissed skin. His mouth moved, but I heard no words. His face blanched and then faded against the white sky. A ruggedly handsome chin grew distorted, and his thick prominent eyebrows disappeared.

“AJ…”

Darkness pulled me in again.

****

“Can I have the swipe key?” Will asked.

He loved hotels. It had been one of his favorite parts of their trip to Yellowstone. Well, other than the volcano stuff.

“Sure,” Reid said. “We need to get your mom, first. Can you be my helper, buddy?”

Will nodded. “Yeah.” He took the card from Reid and flipped it over in his hand. This card had a picture of a white arch on it and read, “Welcome to Missouri.” He traced it with his finger. “What’s this arch?” he asked. It looked like a smooth bridge. He loved the shape of it. It curved in such an interesting way. It looked like a parabola!

“That’s the Gateway Arch.”

“Where is it?”

“North of us, in St. Louis.”

“Maybe we can go see it. Finn would like it. We can see it on our way home. I wonder how they built it.”

They reached the car to find Mom in the front seat, sleeping. She didn’t look well. Her face was not as colorful as usual, and her forehead was beaded with sweat. Reid opened the door.

“Will, I need you to open the doors for me in the hotel, okay?”

Will waved the key card. “Uh-huh! Is Mom going to be okay?”

Reid’s smile was wide and honest with nice white teeth. He had a little beard on his face, like the way Dad’s used to get if he had not shaved in three days. “Yes.”

Sometimes people’s faces did one thing and the words they said didn’t match. Not this guy. Reid’s face and words matched. Will liked him. But Mom was sick, and that worried him.

Reid carried Mom to their room. Will had to swipe two times to get the card to work. The green light flicked on, and he turned the handle, shoving the door open. Many smells were gross, but he liked the scent of hotels. It smelled like the clean laundry from the dryer. The towels were all lined up in the bathroom. He ran around, turning on the switches. He nibbled his lip, struggling with a round one. You could push it in or turn it to adjust the light. Interesting. He remembered Grandma used to let him sit in her minivan, with the doors wide open, and he’d play with all the cool buttons for hours. That was when he was four. He was a big kid now and didn’t need to do that anymore. Although that round button was cool. He pushed it again.

“Will, can you help me?” Reid laid Mom on a bed. “Can you watch your mom for a little while? I need to go to the store and get us medicine and supplies.”

Reid knelt to his level and looked him straight in the eyes. Will flinched at first, but then drew his gaze away from the switch and stared at Reid. He watched his mouth move as he spoke. “Will, did you hear me?”

Will nodded. “Mom doesn’t leave me alone.”

“It will be okay. You’re not alone. You have your mom here, see?”

Will nodded, hesitant.

“Do not open the door for anyone, okay? I have a key. I’ll return soon. Here’s your bag and snacks. Only drink the bottle of water in your bag, okay? Not from the sink.”

“Okay.” Will then returned to the switch.

“Will, buddy?”

“Got it. Water bottle. Wait.”

After ten minutes, it grew boring. This hotel room didn’t have as many cool switches as the other hotels they’d visited. Besides, he wasn’t a baby anymore. Mom told him he was a big kid now. He had to be a role model for Finn.

Will chewed his lip and tapped his knee. He felt Mom’s forehead like she always did for him when he was sick. It was hot. He lifted her hand and kissed the top of it. Maybe kissing her hand would work the way it did for babies. Sometimes when Finn was littler, Will would sneak into his room to check on him and give him kisses on his head. If you kiss toddlers and babies while they were sleeping, they had good dreams. Mom looked like she could use a happy dream now. Maybe it worked on grown-ups.

The clock read 2:04 p.m. It wasn’t close to bedtime yet, and he was too old for naps.

He flipped through a stack of magazines on the desk. One had the arch on the cover. He opened it and read about the building of the arch. Apparently, it was not a parabola as he’d originally thought. It was a catenary curve, which was different. He read about that, and then analyzed the pictures. After a few minutes, he closed the magazine.

He located the TV remote. He’d already seen the news about the volcano. Most hotels didn’t get the weather station or have cool shows like you could stream online. He turned it on anyway. Video of the eruptive column of the volcano showed on this channel. It was a science show, not like the regular news shows. He sat, observing how the plume billowed and rolled. Much like the Mount St. Helens eruption, the vertical column ascended about fourteen miles into the air, which meant it was not supervolcanic or mega-colossal, but it was a VEI 6 or VEI 7 on the scale, at least a hundred times greater than the eruption of Mount St. Helens based on the ejecta volume, which scientists were determining. Reports were still coming in. Even though the eruption wasn’t a VEI supervolcanic eruption, scientists were concerned that another bigger eruption could follow due to magma chamber instability. A video simulation demonstrated how Mt. Washburn and other notable Yellowstone peaks had crumbled into the magma chamber and how the ground cracked and opened up for many miles.

He clicked to another channel. This one was a news show.

It had been nearly a week since the eruption and the newscasters were showing other videos now: forest fires, helicopters rescuing people, towns covered in a fat blanket of ash and people digging like you did after it snowed, and the fallout zone of trees flattened from the blast. That was cool. He liked when they showed those video clips. But there were also people crying. He scratched his head. He didn’t like that stuff, and that stuff always made his mom sad. They didn’t talk much about what the new crater looked like.

A scientist came on and spoke about his experience with Mount St. Helens. Well, that was interesting, but Will had already seen and read everything about that volcano. He wondered if the supervolcano would have dome regrowth like Mount St. Helens. He loved the time-lapsed video his dad had found on a website that showed the dome’s regrowth, with its fumes hissing and spitting and more ash building. Maybe it would erupt again, too.

The scientist was done talking, and they returned to the people crying.

He turned off the television.

He grabbed a mandala coloring book and colored pencils from his backpack.

One mandala captured his eye right away. It had a lot of swirling shapes within the middle circle and angled lines around the edges, like the corners of a roof coming together. He traced the spirals with his finger, following the path over and over. It reminded him of Finn, who loved whirlpools and galaxies and black holes.

Maybe he’d save that page for Finn. He flipped through the book and found another equally fascinating one, and chose the blue pencil. Coloring the spiral shapes always quieted the buzzing in his head.

****

I awoke disoriented. Ouch, and a blinding headache as I sat upright. A carousel of colors whirled around me. I winced and eased back. This habit of waking spellbound had to stop.

Will was at my side, shaking my shoulder. “Mom, I’m hungry. It’s way past dinner.”

“Get a snack from the kitchen,” was my reply.

“This room doesn’t have a kitchen, and I can’t go to the vending machine alone.”

Well, that drew me from my haze.

I sat up, albeit slower, and realized not only was I in a bed, but I was in a hotel room. A freezing hotel room. I tugged at the neck opening of my T-shirt, coughed, and lifted a clammy hand to my hot forehead. I shivered uncontrollably.

“How did we get here?” I managed to ask, pulling the covers to my chin. Despite the fear that threatened to besiege me, a sense of relief dwarfed it. Will was beside me. He was okay. Nothing had happened to him. But Reid…my gaze darted around the cramped room…he was nowhere in sight.

“You fainted. Twice, Mom. Are you sick? Reid brought us here. He’s not back yet. I’m hungry. He said he’d return.”

“What time is it?” I answered myself by looking at the bedside clock, which read six thirty p.m. I blinked and focused. Yup, the same. “Shit.”

I stood, shaking. A search through my handbag yielded only my spare set of car keys. I always traveled with both sets, paranoid I’d lose one. The other set was gone.

Reid hadn’t left us. He couldn’t have.

“Grab your bag, Will.” I pocketed the key card on the nightstand and was already making for the door. “Where are we?”

Will moaned. “We aren’t sleeping here? I’m hungry.”

I leaned on the desk and shoved the hotel directory aside. I found a notepad that said Illinois. Okay, we hadn’t gone far after I’d fainted.

I pulled Will a tad too roughly by the arm, he winced, and I let go. Get a grip, AJ. Hurt flickered in his face with the hint of an impending meltdown. “I’m sorry, Will. Let’s get food on the way, okay?”

“Do you have four quarters? I want a snack from the vending machine. I know it’s not a dinner, but I want cheese puffs. May I?” he asked, voice hopeful, and he instantly snapped back to normal mode.

“Yes, honey.”

After what seemed like forever going through the maze of hallways and Will’s indecisive choice-making at the vending machine because there were two types of cheese puffs, we made our way to the parking lot. All the while, I wheezed with each step. I dug in my bag for my inhaler and took a puff. A cold sweat moistened the hair at the nape of my neck, and I licked dehydrated lips.

I searched for my blue SUV among the vehicles in the parking lot. I scanned back and forth twice, refusing to believe the obvious. It was gone.

I cleared my throat and invoked a steady composure for Will’s sake. “When did Reid leave?”

He was distracted with eating his cheese puffs, meticulously licking his fingers.

For a child who has been obsessed with clocks since the age of four, and who became crippled with changes in schedule, he was undaunted by our dilemma.

“Where did he go?”

He shrugged and crunched on another cheese puff.

I almost snapped, but I quieted the beast. I took Will gently by the arm and positioned him into direct eye contact with me by kneeling to his level. “Will, think hard, okay? This is important. What time did the clock say when we arrived here? We had lunch at the rest stop, then what?” I coaxed, hoping to jog his perfect memory.

Remembrance lit his eyes. “You blacked out, Mom. Twice. Then we drove twelve miles on the highway here to find a hotel. Reid carried you in. He said he was getting medicine and supplies. The clock read 2:04 p.m.” He scratched his head. “That was hours ago! What’s taking him so long?”

He carried me in? “I don’t know.”

I stared at the lot entrance, willing my SUV to drive through the gate. The minutes passed. I thought about asking the front desk clerk. What would I ask? What would they know?

Tears of rage crossed my vision, and I needed to sit and drink water. We trudged back to the room. Rational AJ believed Reid would return. He was getting supplies. No need to panic.

Regardless, once again, I was without. And it scared the shit out of me.