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He perks up a little at that last sentence. He slides out of his chair, picks up his juice cup, and walks it over to the sink.
“Okay, well, when she wakes up, we can ask her if you being around makes her happy. I’ll tell her you make good waffles. She loves waffles, so that might help.”
And then he walks out of the kitchen. He leaves me sitting at the table slightly slack-jawed and completely speechless.
I’m glad Milly’s son loves her so much. I hope his waffle endorsement will help me plead my case when Milly is finally coherent enough for me to lay everything out for her.
I just hope she’ll give me a chance to explain.
* * *
On Monday, I have to figure out Anthony’s schedule and get him to school. It helps that he's a really smart kid and knows his routine like the back of his hand.
After I drop Anthony off at school—the carpool lane is a kidnapper’s best friend—I come back to the house, and open my laptop and spend the day working.
Milly was only ever awake long enough to drink some water and for me to get her to swallow more of the antivirals my doctor had prescribed. I can tell she's aware of me, but she doesn’t seem to really know it’s me.
She always mumbles Anthony’s name when she's awake and I assure her he’s fine, but I'm not sure it’s really getting through.
* * *
I’ve just settled down to prepare for a call I have in thirty minutes when Milly’s house phone rings for the third time in the last five minutes. The caller ID says Mary Dennis. Her mother. I know I should answer because she's probably starting to worry.
But, I'm honestly afraid to talk to her. I have no idea how she will react to me being in Milly’s house. I can’t imagine she’ll be thrilled. Milly has always been very close to her mother and given her mother lives here with her, I can’t imagine that has changed. She must know what I did last week.
The phone stops ringing and I sigh in relief, but it starts ringing less than thirty seconds later. I'm worried it will wake Milly so I decide to swallow my cowardice and answer.
I clear my throat and pick up. “Hello?”
“Who is this?” Her response is sharp. She sounds pissed.
“Uh. It’s Dean. Orleans,” I say, and I feel like a kid again.
“Where is Milly?” she barks at me.
“Milly is sleeping.” I wince at the way I know that sounds and the assumptions she must be making right now.
“Why is she sleeping at ten thirty in the morning? Why are you in her house? Why hasn’t she answered her phone in two days?” she demands, her voice becoming louder and deeper as she hurls the questions at me.
“Well, she—” I start.
“You know what? Never mind. I’m coming home. I don’t know what is going on over there, but clearly it’s nothing good,” she says in an angry huff.
“No, no! Everything is fine!” I say quickly, I feel like I’ve lost whatever control I had over the conversation and it’s spiraling out of control.
“The hell it is!” she almost shouts.
“No, please, listen. Yes, Milly isn’t well. I came by on Friday and she had a really high fever. I called a doctor, turns out she has the flu. She has medication and is resting.” I say this in a rush, afraid she’ll hang up and be on the next train before I can stop her. I'm suddenly desperate for her to not return. I haven’t had any time with Milly and I need
it. I need her to get well enough to talk to me so that I can at least apologize for what I did and figure out how to convince her to give me, us, a chance.
“And where is Anthony? Don’t tell me you’ve been watching him,” she says, but she sounds less angry and more amused now, and I’m a little offended.
“Yes, actually. I have. He hasn’t missed a meal. I took him to school today. He seems perfectly happy.”
I try to keep the defensiveness out of my voice, but I feel like I’ve managed with this situation well.
“Well, well, well,” she drawls and then she laughs.
