Read Online When You Go Away by Jessica Barksdale Inclan - Free Book Online
Authors: Jessica Barksdale Inclan
Tags: Domestic Fiction, Mother and Child, Grandparent and Child, Maternal Deprivation, Motherless Families
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call from Graham."
Melinda pursed her lips and shook her head. "I've told Tom a hundred times. I don't understand how Graham could have done what he did. Leaving them like that. Leaving poor Brooke. Maybe the marriage wasn't going well, but still. They shouldn’t have had to move."
Carl nodded in agreement, grateful that anger was replacing his sadness, and stood up. "I really appreciate your help. Here's my number." He wrote it on his napkin and pushed it toward her. "If you see her again, could you call me?"
"Oh, yes. If I hear anything, I'll call you." Carl was sure she would and sure also that she'd call all of Peri's friends, telling them about how no one knew where she lived, how her family was distraught and anxious. Soon everyone would know. Poor Peri , he thought. Probably nothing is wrong. But in no time, the whole town will think there is.
He stood outside of Melinda’s house, the air cool but clear, the stars much brighter on this side of the Caldecott Tunnel. With less light pollution, the Big Dipper spread glitter- white across the sky, the night pooling purple around it. Carl reached into his cell phone and dialed his house, hoping to hear Graham's voice on his message machine. He would hardly be able to bear the sound, but at least they'd know everything was all right. Graham wouldn't ignore a crisis, or at least that's what Carl hoped.
He pushed the right buttons, and there was a message, but it wasn't from Graham. "Hi. Hello. My name is Rosie Candelero. I hope I'm reaching Carl Randall, grandfather of Carly, Ryan, and Brooke Mackenzie. If not, well, I'm plain sorry, but this is an emergency. Well, see, I live in the same complex with your grandkids, and I'm here right now at the apartment. I hate to say this, but I had to call the ambulance. It's not here yet. Your little one, she's not good. She has a high fever. Anyway, what I'm getting at is that you need to get over here. There's something bad going on. I have no idea where your daughter is. Oh, the ambulance is here. The address is 1425 Walnut Avenue, apartment 4D. Carly says you've never been here. My cell number is 925.555.1376. Got to go."
Before the message ended, Carl heard a loud knock in the background and Carly's voice, the woman saying, "Let's do this," and then hanging up. He listened to the message again, wrote down the address and phone number on a map he'd found in his glove box, and then stared out the window, wondering if he'd know how to drive after hearing those words, "I have no idea where your daughter is."
As he started his car and pulled out onto the street, he realized there had been years when he didn't know where Peri was. There had been the weeks and months of her childhood, when she'd been at summer camp or overnights or parties or dates. Most of her time at college. The first year of her marriage, when she and Graham were in Europe for his work. Then there had been the years of fighting and angry silence in her marriage and the year of the divorce when she considered him persona non grata , her life and the kids' out-of-bounds because he was like Graham, a wife-leaving bastard. For the first time, though, he was frightened. Maybe this time, he'd lost her for good.
FIVE
"Kids? It's me."
Carly sat up and wiped her face, watching as Ryan let their Grandpa in the apartment, barely cracking the door so that their grandfather had to squeeze through, his white hair blown up around his face, his cheeks pale. Once inside, he put his hand on Ryan's shoulder, and then looked around the room, taking in the horrible mess, the half-full moving boxes, the furniture still covered in laundry, the lurch of Pyrex and steel bowls and glasses covering the kitchen counter. "God. What's been going on here?"
Ryan started to tell him, mumbling about
Melinda pursed her lips and shook her head. "I've told Tom a hundred times. I don't understand how Graham could have done what he did. Leaving them like that. Leaving poor Brooke. Maybe the marriage wasn't going well, but still. They shouldn’t have had to move."
Carl nodded in agreement, grateful that anger was replacing his sadness, and stood up. "I really appreciate your help. Here's my number." He wrote it on his napkin and pushed it toward her. "If you see her again, could you call me?"
"Oh, yes. If I hear anything, I'll call you." Carl was sure she would and sure also that she'd call all of Peri's friends, telling them about how no one knew where she lived, how her family was distraught and anxious. Soon everyone would know. Poor Peri , he thought. Probably nothing is wrong. But in no time, the whole town will think there is.
He stood outside of Melinda’s house, the air cool but clear, the stars much brighter on this side of the Caldecott Tunnel. With less light pollution, the Big Dipper spread glitter- white across the sky, the night pooling purple around it. Carl reached into his cell phone and dialed his house, hoping to hear Graham's voice on his message machine. He would hardly be able to bear the sound, but at least they'd know everything was all right. Graham wouldn't ignore a crisis, or at least that's what Carl hoped.
He pushed the right buttons, and there was a message, but it wasn't from Graham. "Hi. Hello. My name is Rosie Candelero. I hope I'm reaching Carl Randall, grandfather of Carly, Ryan, and Brooke Mackenzie. If not, well, I'm plain sorry, but this is an emergency. Well, see, I live in the same complex with your grandkids, and I'm here right now at the apartment. I hate to say this, but I had to call the ambulance. It's not here yet. Your little one, she's not good. She has a high fever. Anyway, what I'm getting at is that you need to get over here. There's something bad going on. I have no idea where your daughter is. Oh, the ambulance is here. The address is 1425 Walnut Avenue, apartment 4D. Carly says you've never been here. My cell number is 925.555.1376. Got to go."
Before the message ended, Carl heard a loud knock in the background and Carly's voice, the woman saying, "Let's do this," and then hanging up. He listened to the message again, wrote down the address and phone number on a map he'd found in his glove box, and then stared out the window, wondering if he'd know how to drive after hearing those words, "I have no idea where your daughter is."
As he started his car and pulled out onto the street, he realized there had been years when he didn't know where Peri was. There had been the weeks and months of her childhood, when she'd been at summer camp or overnights or parties or dates. Most of her time at college. The first year of her marriage, when she and Graham were in Europe for his work. Then there had been the years of fighting and angry silence in her marriage and the year of the divorce when she considered him persona non grata , her life and the kids' out-of-bounds because he was like Graham, a wife-leaving bastard. For the first time, though, he was frightened. Maybe this time, he'd lost her for good.
FIVE
"Kids? It's me."
Carly sat up and wiped her face, watching as Ryan let their Grandpa in the apartment, barely cracking the door so that their grandfather had to squeeze through, his white hair blown up around his face, his cheeks pale. Once inside, he put his hand on Ryan's shoulder, and then looked around the room, taking in the horrible mess, the half-full moving boxes, the furniture still covered in laundry, the lurch of Pyrex and steel bowls and glasses covering the kitchen counter. "God. What's been going on here?"
Ryan started to tell him, mumbling about
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