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“If I tried to call her I know she’d blow up. Start yelling. Blame me for all of Garrett’s mistakes. I thought you should be the one to tell her. It will go much better.”
I heard an unusual sadness in his voice. Defeat.
“Dad…”
“I know. I know. But it will be best coming from you.”
“There’s no good way to drop this on her. What else can I tell her? What have the police said?” I wanted to take notes. That made me feel as if I had some kind of control. The legal side of my brain kicked in.
“There’s not much to say. There is no suspicious activity.”
“Did they issue a Silver Alert?”
I found a pen rolling around in my desk. I tore a piece of paper from the back of my journal.
My father continued with a limited rundown of what he knew. “No. He doesn’t meet the criteria. Besides, your mother would be go crazy if we made this public.”
“I don’t care if it’s public. He could be hurt or in danger. Why doesn’t Garrett meet the Silver Alert requirement?”
“I don’t fully understand it myself. Maybe you could talk to the police. They’ll listen to you. Tell them you’re an attorney in D.C. That will pull some weight.”
“I don’t think they care if or where I practice law. I’m not one of them. But I’ll make some calls.”
“Can you be here in the morning?”
“Of course. I’ll book a flight.” It was trivial, but I listed plane tickets as one of the bullet point items on my sheet of paper.
“I’ll pick you up. Send me the time you land.”
I was about to tell him not to bother, but I realized how harsh that would sound given the circumstances. He was worried. Panicked enough to call me in the middle of the night. For the first time in years he had asked for my help. He had reached out to me.
“Sounds good. I’ll let you know when I can get there. And I’ll call Mom. You’re right. I should take care of that. The last thing she needs is one of Garrett’s friends scaring her to death. I’ll do it.”
But what would I say? How would I tell her Garrett’s friends reached out to Dad instead of her? And when she discovered it had been two weeks since anyone had seen him she would crumble. Every part of her would collapse with the realization that he was in real danger. This wasn’t one of his tantrums. It wasn’t an act of defiance over something trying to control his life. This was different. I could feel it.
“I’ll see you soon.”
He hung up and I tried to get my feet under me. I shuffled to my dresser and unplugged my laptop.
I scanned prices for one-way tickets to New Bern. The airport was small, so there were no direct flights, but with a connection in Raleigh, it was still quicker than driving seven hours.
I booked a 7 a.m. flight. Next, I scrolled through Garrett’s account. I sent him messages on every one, including a text, and left a voicemail. I debated how stern to be, but decided he needed to know I was worried.
I hesitated about calling my mother. If I alerted her now she wouldn’t go back to sleep. She’d be a nervous wreck. There was no way to assure or comfort her. I held the phone in my hand, knowing I was making a decision that was possibly not mine to make.
I yanked the charger from the wall and stuffed it in my carry-on bag. I’d call her from the airport. At least then she’d know I was on the way. It would give her a distraction—something to focus on that didn’t involve picturing her son in a hospital or lifeless somewhere.
I turned the shower on and tried to wake up under the hot water. I was almost numb to what was going on. I went through the motions, pushing out the thoughts of my brother. I had to get to the airport. I had to get on the plane. I had to get home.
By the time the wheels skidded on the runway in New Bern, I had lost some of my resolve. Somewhere in the air on the short flight it had evaporated.
This wasn’t how I planned to return home for the first time. I was counting on Thanksgiving. I tried to hold on to the image of Vaughn seeing my town for the first time. I saw home with a new lens when he was in the picture. I imagined taking him to the waterfront. Showing him my own version of the Jefferson Memorial. Going to a pumpkin farm. Maybe even going on one of the Christmas light tours.
I powered on my phone and tapped his name. I needed to hear his voice.
It went straight to voicemail.
“Hey, it’s me.” I paused. “I had to fly home for an emergency. I’m ok, but call me when you can. Please.”
