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He cursed-for having forgot to do so earlier-as he reached for the earphone and jammed it in place, and then pushed the button on the microphone, which he was supposed to have clipped to his jacket, but now held somewhat awkwardly in his right hand.
“Jack Williamson,” he said.
“This is your mother.”
Oh, shit. Now what does she want?
“What can I do for you, Mother? On my way to work, where I’m already twenty-five minutes late?”
“I’m worried about Cheryl.”
“Can we talk about this later?”
“She doesn’t answer her phone…”
Probably because she knows it’s you calling.
“… and not even the answering machine answers.”
“Maybe it’s full.”
“And she’s not at work. I called there, too.”
And just possibly, Mother Dear, she told them to tell you she was out.
“Mother, she probably had car trouble or something.”
“No. She doesn’t answer her cell phone, either. Jack, I’m really worried.”
“Mother, what exactly is it you’d like me to do?”
“I want you to go by her apartment and see if she’s all right.”
“Mother, I’m on my way to work, and I’m already late.”
“Jack, she’s your sister. Your only sister.”
He didn’t reply.
“If only your father were still alive…” Mrs. Williamson began.
“Okay, okay. Don’t start that. I’ll go.”
“You’ll call me?” his mother asked.
Jack detected a triumphal tone in her voice.
Score another one for Momma Dear.
“I’ll call.”
He looked for, found, and took the next exit ramp-Exit 23-and a block onto Willets Road pulled to the side, clipped the cellular’s hands-off microphone to his shirt, then picked the phone up and held down the 5 key, which caused the cellular to automatically dial Cheryl’s number.
There was no answer, which meant she wasn’t there. He hung up, then held down the 6 key, which caused the cellular to automatically dial Cheryl’s cellular number. After five rings, a recorded female voice announced that the party he was attempting to reach was either not available at this time or out of the local calling area.
He cursed again, dropped the phone onto the seat, put the 300M in gear, and headed down Willets, deciding the best way to get to Cheryl’s-all the fucking way across North Philly-was to take Roosevelt Boulevard and then Adams Avenue, into the East Oak Lane section of Philadelphia.
When he got to Cheryl’s door, he could hear the chimes inside playing the first few bars of “Be It Ever So Humble,” but there was no answer. Which meant that Cheryl was already probably at work.
