The car Nicole had arranged to take him to the airport pulled up to the hotel curb on time. Thaddeus pocketed his phone in response and felt an empty space there. He looked up, his eyes locking on the driver, who’d emerged from the car’s interior just as panic took over.
“C-can you wait just a m-minute?” he stammered at the man, who stopped midstride. “I-I forgot something.”
To his credit, the man did not grimace or even looked surprised as he nodded. Thaddeus turned to sprint back into the hotel, his heart hammering in spite of his attempts to calm his anxious thoughts. At the front desk he managed to convey that he needed another key to his room, that he’d forgotten something important. Key card in hand, he went to the elevator landing, pressed the button to summon one, then stood waiting.
It’ll be where you left it, he consoled himself as the panel showed the cab’s descent, each floor number lighting in a slow, methodical pattern. It’ll be there; it’ll be ok.
When the door dinged open, he rushed inside and smashed his thumb into the button to close it again, then drummed his thumb against his thigh as the elevator ascended to the fourteenth floor. Before the door was fully open, he squeezed through and ran to the room, fumbling with the key card as he tried, failed, then tried again to let himself into the room where he’d spent the past two nights.
He charged over to the dresser, but the surface was clear. His panic surged as his eyes swept the room until he found it, there, on the desk where he’d left it.
He exhaled and strode over to pick it up. He held it for a brief moment before putting it back into his pocket, where it belonged. Because he never knew, did he? When he’d need it again. When he’d keep the promise he’d made that night.
Mission accomplished, he turned to leave, then looked back at the room one more time, thinking of the woman he’d bedded there. Instead of recalling the scene with a kind of triumph, he felt a wash of pity overcome him. But this pity wasn’t for her; it was for himself. He felt like a joke.
Shoulders slumped, his pocket heavier, he left the room.
Outside, he saw that the driver had stowed the luggage he’d left on the curb, leaving him nothing to do but get in the car. As the car pulled away, Thaddeus rested his head on the cool glass window and looked out at the still-dark morning, watching the lights of St. Louis slip away.
His heart rate returned to normal as he patted his pocket and closed his eyes. Before he knew it, the car was pulling up to the departures gate. The ride was over.
It seemed just as fast that the captain’s voice came over the loudspeaker on the plane, alerting the passengers that they were landing in Charlotte, North Carolina, and the temperature was fifty-four degrees with an expected high of seventy-one today. He wouldn’t need the sweater he had needed in St. Louis. He followed his fellow passengers’ lead and pulled his phone from his pocket, switched it on, and waited for it to load whatever messages he had missed during the two hours he was in the air.
For a panicky moment, he wondered if they’d found his brother while he’d been above the clouds, if his parents were already mourning news he had yet to hear.
He exhaled in relief when the phone showed only one missed text, from Nicole. She’d written simply:
Hope your flight was good.
Please don’t worry about anything while you’re with your family.
I’ll field everything from here for however long you need.
He pocketed his phone with a smile. The text was kind of her. She was kind. Which was what had gotten him in trouble the night she attended one of his readings. The night she was the woman waiting for him at the end. And though he had a crush on her, he knew better than to think the evening would proceed the way his others had. Nicole was a professional. Nicole was also not someone he could put in a taxi and send on her way the next morning.
So he’d done something much worse than sleep with her.
They’d gone to dinner, they’d had some wine, and she’d started asking him questions. The more they drank, the more she probed. Not out of nosiness, just out of interest. Warmed by her gaze, emboldened by her concern, he’d let himself go. He’d said too much, told her things he’d never told anyone. Embarrassing things. Vulnerable things. He’d told her things he’d left out of the memoir, unsafe things he usually kept under lock and key.
The next morning, though he’d woken up alone, he’d still stumbled to the toilet and vomited as if he’d drunk too much. The truth was worse. He’d said too much. He could get over a hangover. He couldn’t get over exposure.
He waited for his baggage, then walked out of the arrivals doors to look for his father’s car, a Toyota Camry that had once been new with all the bells and whistles of its time, but was now old and outdated. And yet it kept going.
Thaddeus scanned the line of cars and sniffed the air, wondering if it would smell like home. But it smelled only of car exhaust and jet fuel. He spotted the familiar dark green vehicle moving toward him and stepped closer to the curb, lifting his hand in a little wave, letting his father know he was there.
* * *
Beyond a few cursory pleasantries, both Thaddeus and his father were quiet on the drive home. It seemed as though both knew small talk was too small for the occasion, but anything else was too big for the confines of the Camry. So neither spoke, each lost in his own private thoughts. Thaddeus wondered what his father was thinking but did not ask.
As the miles went by, Thaddeus watched the place he used to call home swim into view. He noted signs of growth and development: new neighborhoods and shopping centers, a much larger fire station to replace the little one that used to be sufficient for the town of Wynotte, another elementary school to educate the spate of children born to the town’s ever-growing population.
When his family came to Wynotte, it had been considered rural, but it wasn’t anymore. His mother had demanded that he come home, but it was impossible to truly return to the place he’d left. It kept changing and growing, becoming less recognizable and thus unfamiliar. Like seeing someone who once mattered to you but who, thanks to time and distance, had become a stranger.
He turned his gaze from the passenger window and focused on the windshield in front of him. A fly buzzed and bounced along the glass, frenetic in its efforts to find an exit. Thaddeus wondered where they’d picked up the little stowaway. Had it flown in with him as he got into the car? He wondered if it mattered to the fly where it ended up, if home was even a concept in the insect world. When they opened the doors and the fly found its freedom, would it emerge confused, or just carry on?
Thaddeus concentrated on the fly as they passed the entrance to his neighborhood, as they made their way along the familiar street that led home. When his father parked the car and opened his door, Thaddeus watched as the fly saw the opening and flew out of the car, disappearing into the sky. Then he got out of the car himself.
His mother’s eyes filled when he walked in, but she managed to keep the tears at bay. Instead, she gave him a quick hug and asked if he was hungry, then began whisking eggs without waiting for his answer. She pointed at a bowl of cut fruit and a basket of muffins already sitting on the counter.
“Mrs. Shea,” she explained. So the food brigade had begun right on schedule.
His stomach rumbled in response, and he realized he was actually hungry. He and his father stood and watched his mother make the eggs until she shooed them to the table. They took their seats, the same ones they’d always occupied, as though nothing had changed, their seats assigned for all time, Davy’s chair forever empty.
Thaddeus stole a glance at it, pictured Davy sitting there, that face etched forever in his mind, those wide brown eyes—their mother’s eyes—looking at him expectantly. Davy, right there in front of him, wearing that jacket that had just been found. If Davy had not gone missing, would he still be called Davy, or would he, like Thaddeus, have changed his name to something that sounded more grown-up? Would a guy who called himself David be sitting across from him right now, regaling the family with stories of his exciting globe-trotting career or showing off photos of his gorgeous wife and kids? Or would he be just an average Dave with the same kind of humdrum life most people had? There was no way to know who Davy might have been.
Thaddeus blinked Davy away, then scooped out eggs from the bowl his mother placed on the table, steam dancing up from the dish. His mother had made too much, just like she always did. The bowl appeared to be new. But everything else was the same as it always was, the family home preserved like a time capsule meant to be broken open the moment Davy walked back through the door.
His mother broke the silence on his second bite. “So,” she said. “The girl called while you two were on your way here and said she’d be a little late getting here today. She had some business to attend to first thing this morning.”
“What girl?” he asked, feeling a little zing of alarm at the thought of some strange girl coming around.
“The Public Information Officer,” his mother said. “We’ve never had one before. I guess it’s a new thing.” She took a bite of eggs and chewed thoughtfully before swallowing and continuing. “She’s here to keep the press at bay, keep us informed of news about the search, and any other kinds of help we might need from law enforcement.”
Thaddeus nodded, relieved that the girl in question was just some cop sent to monitor his parents so they wouldn’t say or do the wrong thing during the investigation. The police were getting smarter. He had to hand it to them: they’d convinced his mother that having a babysitter was a good idea.
“She’s going to take us out to the search site today, just so we can see what’s happening. She’s a really sweet girl,” his mother said. She cocked her head, thinking. “She’s around your age.” She scooped another bite of eggs into her mouth.
“Mom.” He dropped his head and looked down at the crocheted pattern of the tablecloth his great-grandmother had made for his parents when they got married. The thing had lasted longer than their marriage had.
“What?” Her tone was defensive.
“Are you actually trying to matchmake me with the police officer who’s here because of Davy?”
He watched her flinch like she always did when he said Davy’s name. She shrugged. “I was just making an observation. She’s cute.” She looked to his father for affirmation. “Don’t you think so, Daniel?”
His father scrunched up his face. “I don’t know. She’s a kid.” He picked up his plate, stood, and carried it into the kitchen as Thaddeus wondered if that made him a kid too. Sitting at that table with his parents certainly made him feel like one again.
His mother, undeterred, continued. “A little more . . . curvy than you might normally like, T— I mean, Thaddeus. But her personality really makes up for it. She has a very calming presence.” She raised her voice so his dad could still hear her. “You find yourself trusting her. Don’t you think, Daniel?”
His dad, who had begun to wash the dishes, pretended not to hear her over the running water. His mother harrumphed as she picked up her own plate, then reached for Thaddeus’s plate as well. The two plates clattered loudly as she dumped one on top of the other.
“She’s got a pretty face. You’ll see.”
As she walked away with the plates, he called after her, “I could’ve done that, you know.”
“I know,” she called back. “But you’re a guest.”
“A guest?” he shouted, surprised at her choice of words. “I grew up in this house! How can I be a guest?”
There was a knock at the door. “She’s here,” his mother said instead of answering his question. He heard the clatter as she dropped the dishes into the sink, then doubled back and headed toward the door. As she passed the table, she stopped to give him one of her mom looks. “You be nice to her, Thaddeus.”
Before she could get to the front door, he stood up and walked out the back door, escaping just as his father had. He didn’t want to meet the babysitter cop. He didn’t want to be fixed up with her. He didn’t want to be there at all.
He stood in the backyard, his eyes scanning the familiar, yet unfamiliar, landscape until his gaze landed on the house next door. He quickly looked away and removed his phone from his pocket. He scrolled through his recent calls until he found Phillip Laney’s number and pressed Dial.
“Philly,” he said when his friend answered. “I’ve been here less than an hour and I already need a drink.”
Phillip laughed. “Sounds about right.”
“Things are . . . tense in this house.”
“Well.” Phillip cleared his throat. “That’s to be expected. Right?”
“Yeah, well, is that offer for a beer still good? Like tonight?”
“Um, I think I can swing that.” There was a pause, presumably while Phillip checked his calendar. “I mean, my daughter has a T-ball game that’ll go into the evening, but I can scoot out early and my wife can take her home. She’ll understand. I mean, it’s not every day that your old pal needs you like this. Right?”
“Right,” Thaddeus agreed, then added, “thank goodness.”
They both gave a nervous laugh before forming a plan for the evening. Then Thaddeus went back inside to ask his dad to borrow the car for the night, like he was sixteen all over again.