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"It's just for the night," Mom assured. “So I can think."
"For as long as you need a place, this is yours,” he replied. “Come on, I bet you're exhausted."
I carried the plastic bag of clothes inside, acutely aware as I stepped into a stranger's house in nothing more than a damp t-shirt and dirty jeans.
"Let me get you settled," he called to me, and headed for the stairs. “Then your mom and I can have a drink and try to figure out a way out of this."
"How did you know my dad?" I asked as I followed.
His steps faltered for a second as he glanced over his shoulder. “Your dad? I don’t, not really.” He glanced toward mom. “Your mom and I knew each other in college."
I looked back as I climbed the stairs. She looked so lost in that moment, so utterly lost. I followed him up to the third floor and stepped forward, listening to the drone of a TV coming from a room further along the hall. "You have a son?"
"Sons..." he answered with a smile. "Three of the pains in the ass, unfortunately. But don’t worry, two will be gone before long." He said as he moved ahead of me. “God knows, my damn wallet could use a break. They eat like horses.”
He opened a bedroom door and flicked on the light. “The room's a bit cluttered, I'm sorry. We mostly use it as a storage room, but there’s clean sheets on the bed.”
At first glance, he'd looked younger in the outside lights, but standing here in the brighter glare, I caught flecks of gray amongst the black. He held my gaze, and in the connection, goosebumps raced along my arms.
"I hope you'll like it here," he murmured as I stepped into the room, automatically whispered "thank you," and closed the door behind me.
The heavy thud of his steps echoed as he left.Like it here?I scowled. “For the night, sure.”
By morning, we'd have a plan. Mom, me, and our lawyers to figure out a way to get my dad free.
The faint sound of an engine drew my focus to the window. I rounded the bed, squeezed between some kind of machine covered with a sheet, and looked out the window as a black Jeep Cherokee drove through the open gate and pulled into the empty parking spot.
Sons...the word resounded.Older sons...older than me, at least.I leaned closer to the glass, trying to get a glimpse as he climbed out of the four-wheel drive and closed the door. But he was hidden, leaving me to stare at his shadow before even that disappeared.
Downstairs, the front door closed with athud.I glanced toward the doorway, then moved around the machine, stubbing my damn toe as I went."Shit!"I cried, shoving against the damn thing.
The sheet slipped, revealing stainless steel…a machine...a breathing machine.
I'd seen these things…respirators. That's right. “High five to my constant reruns of Grey's Anatomy,” I muttered.
But why was it here?
I tugged at the covering, revealing more and more of the room crammed with medical equipment. New equipment, at that. There was an ID sticker on the side of one machine. Unable to help myself, I peered closer.
“Naomi Banks.” I glanced at the doorway and moved around the bed, finding a pile of bereavement cards stacked in a pile and shoved underneath a stack of paperwork.
A flare of sadness moved through me as I bent and pulled them free. I knew I shouldn't be looking at something so personal. I wasn't that kind of person, not one who invaded. But I was unable to help myself as I opened the first one and started reading...
Creed,
I'm so sorry for your loss. Naomi was a breathtaking woman, alive and vibrant, especially when she spoke about you and the boys. The world will be a sadder place without her. Call me if you need anything at all.
Aulla Goldsmith.
“Aulla Goldsmith?” I whispered. “I know that name.”
Then it hit me. Senator Aulla Goldsmith had been all over the news and social media, pimping his new campaign for the next electoral term, triggering a whole new wave of name mocking as he stood outside Popeye’s and scarfed down a piece of chicken, like he was just one of the community.Aulla the beluga!The chants filled my head. It was a name no one’d forget in a hurry.
“A senator?" I opened the next card and kept reading. There was one from Sting…yeah,that Sting.
“Holy shit,” I mumbled, and glanced at the doorway again. “This guy’s kind of a big deal.”
But they were all the same, all cards from very influential people…dated a month ago and all saying the same things about how his wife was loved, and how much she’d be missed.
