Angela dragged her suitcase up the driveway, following the others’ earlier flight toward the back door. She maneuvered up the single concrete step that was the stoop and up the short flight of stairs into the kitchen. Angela saw clear through to the living room through the doorway in the kitchen. Joseph and Matthew sat on the couch with their back to her. The TV was off, but their heads were bowed, and Angela heard muffled explosions and digitized dialog from their phones or games. Joanne the social worker gave Angela a brittle smile from her seat in the dining room.
“Welcome home!” she said. Angela finished pulling her suitcase behind her into the dining room as she considered a response. After the travel, the cops—an invective wasn’t worth it. Wasn’t worth seeing Joanne changed out with a cop to stay in the house; Angela hadn’t heard the car pull out of the driveway, and she wondered whether, if she pissed off Joanne, Joanne would fetch him. Angela wondered whether he was going to stay there all night, if they were going to monitor the house, or her, because of Eric’s disappearance.
“Thanks,” Angela managed. “Sorry. I’m not feeling too fresh.” She settled on the couch beside one of the children. He angled his phone so that she could see his game, and she watched him kill digital foes. Behind her, Joanne chirped:
“It must have been such a long trip! Anchorage is, what, seven hours?”
Angela didn’t want to be here. She was alone and the room was the same. The comforter was different; the sheets were different. The smells were different. But the bedstead was the same. She probably had something to sleep in, but her suitcase was too great a challenge right now. She opened Eric’s closet to put away her luggage. A cardboard box hogged the floor space inside, full of what looked like papers, photos—just crap. She began to put her suitcase on top of it, and then the woman hesitated. She knelt to dig through the box. Angela sat down on her suitcase and pulled out a handful.
“Welcome home!” she said. Angela finished pulling her suitcase behind her into the dining room as she considered a response. After the travel, the cops—an invective wasn’t worth it. Wasn’t worth seeing Joanne changed out with a cop to stay in the house; Angela hadn’t heard the car pull out of the driveway, and she wondered whether, if she pissed off Joanne, Joanne would fetch him. Angela wondered whether he was going to stay there all night, if they were going to monitor the house, or her, because of Eric’s disappearance.
“Thanks,” Angela managed. “Sorry. I’m not feeling too fresh.” She settled on the couch beside one of the children. He angled his phone so that she could see his game, and she watched him kill digital foes. Behind her, Joanne chirped:
“It must have been such a long trip! Anchorage is, what, seven hours?”
“About nine and a half.”
“No wonder you're so tired!” Joanne said. The place smelled like old pop and chips and unwashed people; had Joanne really been staying with the kids since Eric disappeared, or did she settle in when it became obvious Angela was actually going to show up, here to give some semblance of care to the process? “Let me clear out Eric’s room, and you can have a rest.” Angela looked up for a moment into Joanne’s frazzled face.
“Mm? Oh, sure.” Joanne pursed her lips, and then rose to step into the bedroom off the living room—Eric’s room, if he hadn’t remodeled the basement. Angela checked which banks here worked with hers back home while she kept the boys company.
“D’you like Alaska?” It was the one beside Angela, the blonde. Joseph, or Matthew.
“I like it pretty well,” Angela said. “The snow is a pain in the ass, and everything’s expensive, but I go out hiking and camping when I can. You can even hike in the winter, if you know what you’re doing and don’t get too far away.”
“Ever seen a polar bear?” the blonde asked. Angela smiled.
“Sometimes. I work pretty far into the city, but you can see them coming in for food garbage. I’ve seen moose. They like to block up traffic. I have a video of this artic fox I saw.” That got the boy’s attention off of his own phone and onto hers.
“They do that to find food,” he said. “Ramming their heads down like that into the snow.”
“I know, but it does make the rest of it look dumb. Like a duck with its legs in the air.”
“Yeah, it does,” he said. He looked up from her phone to her face. He studied her with his black eyes. “Are you going back?”
“Probably, once they find your father.”
“Why?” Angela shrugged.
“Job, life. All my stuff is there.” The boys shared a glance. They seemed so disappointed. “You... can come with me,” she said, “If you want. If they don’t find your dad. There’s schools up there. I don’t know what you two look to do, but the vocational schools are top notch.” The brunette opened his mouth, but Joanne’s reappearance silenced whatever he might have said.
“There!” she said. The social worker deposited her purse, a few shirts, and a bag of makeup onto the recliner beside the couch. “I know you’re tired. Let me get you settled.” She preceded Angela into the bedroom—where, after the other woman stepped in, she closed the door. “These children have had a really rough few weeks!” she said.
Angela tried to pay attention to her sallow, livid face, but her eyes kept sliding to the room itself: aside from the crumbling horsehair plaster on the walls, which inevitably ends up ground into carpets, the room was tidy. Angela still wasn’t sure whether that was because of Eric or because of Joanne’s short stay. The bed took up most of the room. “You can’t just sweep into their lives and promise them something like that!” Joanne continued. “Moving them that far, moving them across state lines—and they’re going to find Mr. Lavenza. It’s natural for teenagers to be so excited about big ideas like that, and you’re going to break their hearts.”
“If they don’t find Eric, then... the boys would be in my custody, right?” Angela never thought such dog-tired eyes as Joanne’s could be full of such fury.
“Wouldn’t you rather go back to the life you had, Mrs. Lavenza? You’re gone for fifteen years—”
“I don’t think it was fifteen—”
“Fifteen years, and you just stroll in here and promise to turn their whole lives upside down. School just started. You are here as a formality, Mrs. Lavenza.” She slammed the door when she left.
“No wonder you're so tired!” Joanne said. The place smelled like old pop and chips and unwashed people; had Joanne really been staying with the kids since Eric disappeared, or did she settle in when it became obvious Angela was actually going to show up, here to give some semblance of care to the process? “Let me clear out Eric’s room, and you can have a rest.” Angela looked up for a moment into Joanne’s frazzled face.
“Mm? Oh, sure.” Joanne pursed her lips, and then rose to step into the bedroom off the living room—Eric’s room, if he hadn’t remodeled the basement. Angela checked which banks here worked with hers back home while she kept the boys company.
“D’you like Alaska?” It was the one beside Angela, the blonde. Joseph, or Matthew.
“I like it pretty well,” Angela said. “The snow is a pain in the ass, and everything’s expensive, but I go out hiking and camping when I can. You can even hike in the winter, if you know what you’re doing and don’t get too far away.”
“Ever seen a polar bear?” the blonde asked. Angela smiled.
“Sometimes. I work pretty far into the city, but you can see them coming in for food garbage. I’ve seen moose. They like to block up traffic. I have a video of this artic fox I saw.” That got the boy’s attention off of his own phone and onto hers.
“They do that to find food,” he said. “Ramming their heads down like that into the snow.”
“I know, but it does make the rest of it look dumb. Like a duck with its legs in the air.”
“Yeah, it does,” he said. He looked up from her phone to her face. He studied her with his black eyes. “Are you going back?”
“Probably, once they find your father.”
“Why?” Angela shrugged.
“Job, life. All my stuff is there.” The boys shared a glance. They seemed so disappointed. “You... can come with me,” she said, “If you want. If they don’t find your dad. There’s schools up there. I don’t know what you two look to do, but the vocational schools are top notch.” The brunette opened his mouth, but Joanne’s reappearance silenced whatever he might have said.
“There!” she said. The social worker deposited her purse, a few shirts, and a bag of makeup onto the recliner beside the couch. “I know you’re tired. Let me get you settled.” She preceded Angela into the bedroom—where, after the other woman stepped in, she closed the door. “These children have had a really rough few weeks!” she said.
Angela tried to pay attention to her sallow, livid face, but her eyes kept sliding to the room itself: aside from the crumbling horsehair plaster on the walls, which inevitably ends up ground into carpets, the room was tidy. Angela still wasn’t sure whether that was because of Eric or because of Joanne’s short stay. The bed took up most of the room. “You can’t just sweep into their lives and promise them something like that!” Joanne continued. “Moving them that far, moving them across state lines—and they’re going to find Mr. Lavenza. It’s natural for teenagers to be so excited about big ideas like that, and you’re going to break their hearts.”
“If they don’t find Eric, then... the boys would be in my custody, right?” Angela never thought such dog-tired eyes as Joanne’s could be full of such fury.
“Wouldn’t you rather go back to the life you had, Mrs. Lavenza? You’re gone for fifteen years—”
“I don’t think it was fifteen—”
“Fifteen years, and you just stroll in here and promise to turn their whole lives upside down. School just started. You are here as a formality, Mrs. Lavenza.” She slammed the door when she left.
Angela didn’t want to be here. She was alone and the room was the same. The comforter was different; the sheets were different. The smells were different. But the bedstead was the same. She probably had something to sleep in, but her suitcase was too great a challenge right now. She opened Eric’s closet to put away her luggage. A cardboard box hogged the floor space inside, full of what looked like papers, photos—just crap. She began to put her suitcase on top of it, and then the woman hesitated. She knelt to dig through the box. Angela sat down on her suitcase and pulled out a handful.
Uh-oh... the mystery begins!
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