Flashbacks of when we were kids play through my head when I pull up the ruffled duvet around her bed and lay down on my side. There are no marbles in my pockets this time around, but I’m confident the pain when we eventually leave our hidey-hole will be much worse.
“It is okay,” I sign to Melody when she scoots deeper into the far corner of the shadow she’s hiding in. “You are okay.” Her eyes are wide and terrified, and the section of her chest I can see in the poor light reveals a smear of blood, but other than that, she appears relatively uninjured—physically. Emotionally is an entirely different story.
My hands shake when I lift them to cradle her ears. Her shallow breaths turn into long gasps when I balance my forehead on hers before counting to ten. “One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three—”
My words croak when Melody’s lips mimic the movement of mine, “Mississippi. Four Mississippi.”
When we reach ten, one solemn tear glides down her cheek. That’s never happened before. We never reached ten before her dad found us. It’s a somber, terrifying thought that he’ll haunt me for eternity, and Melody even longer than that.
15
BRANDON
“I s there anyone we can call? A grandparent? Aunt? Someone?” Melody’s tear-drenched eyes stray from me to the detective I’m signing on behalf of before she shakes her head. “Your family is the only family we have. I have not seen my grandparents in over a decade. I don’t even know if my parents have…” she stops for a second before correcting, “… had brothers and sisters.”
The detective who patiently waited over two hours for me to coerce Melody out from underneath her bed balances his mud-sodden shoe onto the back of the first responder she’s being assessed by before leaning in close to her side. “While I run your information through the system, do you want to get a more thorough check-up at the hospital?”
Before I can relay what he said, Melody rapidly shakes her head, sending strands of blonde hair toppling into her ashen face. Even frightened, her lip-reading skills are notable. “I am okay. I am not injured.”
It turns out she wasn’t in the car with her parents when they were hit. In the eerie quiet that forever bombards her, Melody felt the ripple of her parents’ accident. She described it as feeling like an earthquake, but it shook her soul more than the earth. A normal teenager would’ve brushed off the vibrations. Melody knew better. She tunes into things differently than other people because she feels and senses sounds instead of hearing them.
She ran the entire quarter of a mile, barefoot, and was first on the scene at her parents’ accident. The smear of blood on her chest was from her leaning over her mother’s body to check if her father had a pulse. His door was too smashed in for her to check it any other way.
Not realizing her father had placed her confiscated phone into the glove compartment, she ran back home, informed 911 of their accident via the typewriter telephone her parents had installed years ago, then hid under her bed where she stayed for almost two hours before I found her.
The thought of her being alone and scared like that for so long truly guts me. I should’ve known she needed me earlier than I did. I should have pushed harder to settle the unease in my gut. I should have protected her from harm like I had promised her father all those years ago. But I failed. Again.
Nothing but hurt radiates from Melody’s face when she says, “I just want to have a shower and go to bed.”
“She can do that at my house.” I point to my house that’s barely seen in the blackness of the night. “I live right next door.”
The detective shifts his eyes to me. They’re full of kindness but still brimming with authority. “Son, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I sent an officer over there earlier. No one is home.”
“Because they are at the hospital. They are…” I stop signing before I spill a secret I’m certain is going to hurt Melody more. “She is my girlfriend. I won’t hurt her.”
“Neither of you are eighteen, which means I can’t legally sign her over to you.” His kind eyes reveal he hates that he’s being forced to follow protocol, but they also expose he won’t be a pushover, either. “You will become a ward of the state until we can find a suitable caregiver for you.”
“No,” Melody gasps out at the same time I beg him to reconsider. “There is no child services division in this region. She has lived here her entire life, you can’t just ship her to another town.” When my pleas seem to be getting through to him, I up the ante. “She just lost both her parents, can you just give her some compassion? Please.” I ensure I sign each word I speak, so Melody isn’t left out of our conversation. She can read lips, but it’s dark out, and I don’t want to disadvantage her.
“I can’t legally sign her over to you.” The dip in the officer’s tone reveals his wavering constraint. He’s on the verge of giving in. I’m confident of that.
“What about my parents? Could you sign her over to them? My father is an ADA. Would he be a suitable candidate?” I ask through cotton-mouth.
As he slants his head to the side, his brow cocks. “Your father is Vincent McGee?”
“Yes,” I respond for the first time ever with pride in my tone.
He cranks his head to Melody. “Is that true?”
I see a million thoughts filter through her eyes before she nods. She’s confused as to why admirable and kind people like her parents are killed when men evil and vindictive like my father get to live.
Since I don’t have an answer for her, I focus my attention back to the detective. “Can you sign her care to my parents?”
“Temporarily, I can…” I almost fist bump the air, but he continues talking, stopping me, “… if you can get them here within the hour.”
I grit my teeth to hide my frustration. I don’t know about you, but I’m fairly certain a heart transplant takes longer than three hours. However, since I’m just as confident Melody shouldn’t be with anyone but me tonight, I yank my dad’s cell phone out of my pocket, punch in his birthdate since he’s too arrogant to have anyone’s but his own, then dial my mother’s number.
She answers two rings later, “Please tell me you found her?”
