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I looked at her. Her hair was pulled back in a clip. She wore the pearl earrings my father had helped Garrett and me buy for her fortieth birthday. I remember picking them out. The three of us were excited to surprise her with something so expensive and extravagant.
But now they seemed dull and faded. Maybe because she rubbed them often out of nervousness. She touched her finger to one now.
“I can try the police again. See if anything has come up.”
“Mom, don’t do that. They don’t want us to keep calling.”
“Someone has to do something. Someone has to convince them Garrett needs help.”
He did need help, but not police intervention. He needed people to keep him accountable. A mother and father who were a team. A woman in his life who saw what an amazing creative person he was. A sister he could count on.
“We’re doing it, Mom. We are doing everything we can. Garrett doesn’t want us to find him.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because he hasn’t called.”
She chewed the side of her fingernail. “You think that’s a good sign?”
“I don’t really know what to think, other than we need to know he’s ok.”
“He has to be ok. He has to be.”
I looked at the creases around her eyes. The lines around her mouth. The brushes of smudged mascara.
“What if I make tea or a pot of decaf?” I suggested. She wasn’t going to sleep, and as I fatigued as I was I wasn’t going to fall asleep any time soon. “We could see if there is an old movie on.”
She nodded. “Ok. Tea?”
“Come on.” I put an arm around her and led her to the kitchen.
Sometime during Casablanca, we both fell asleep in the living room. I was curled up in the recliner and my mom stretched out on the couch.
I awoke with a pain in the side of my neck that spread to my shoulder. I rubbed it while I stretched my arm toward the ceiling. In the fog of my mind, I knew I had dreamed about Vaughn. His smile tugged at a memory I couldn’t quite pull into focus. I blinked trying to catch the remnants of it. I missed him.
I had moved my phone cord to the living room outlet before we started the movie last night. I checked to see if I had missed any calls or texts. There had to be something from one of my brother’s friends.
There was a text from Greer.
Checking on you. Any news?
I sighed and texted back.
No. Nothing to report.
Let me know if you need me.
Thanks.
Should I come down?
No. Thank you. No. Pres and those senators need you.
I checked my email. There was one from Lana Foley. She wanted to meet today to go over the next steps of her case. I responded, telling her to call Meg and schedule an appointment for next week. I had hope I would be back by then. Next I emailed Jessie and Gregory to let them know I’d be out of town for at least another day or two and to please send over the Foley files to Max. He could at least get more familiar with the case while I was away, even if I couldn’t keep our meeting today.
I layered my mother with another blanket before walking to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee while she slept.
I was glad she wasn’t awake yet. Today would be another stressful difficult day. She needed peace where she could find it.
