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I’ve got to, I don’t have a… my phone rings loudly and I jump.
“Ignore it, Quinn. You must go,” I mutter to myself.
I roll my eyes and shake my head, trying to hold firm to the decision, but the ringing is a siren’s call. It doesn’t stop and I give in, glancing at my phone. The caller ID shows it’s my mom. I raise the phone my ear to answer it.
I hear Dugald in my head, telling me to ignore it. I want to. I do, but what if it’s my dad? What if something happened? If someone is hurt, if they need me?
“I’m not ignoring this. I have responsibilities.” I growl, shaking my head, and answer the phone.“Mom?”
ChapterSix
“Mom?”
“Honey, I’m so sorry,” Mom says.
It feels like the world wavers, as if reality isn’t quite in tune or focus. Like lag in a game, snapping into place as it catches up. On the phone, something crashes in the background and then I hear Dad yelling.
“Mom, what’s happening?”
“He’s having,” something bangs and Dad yells something incoherent, “a bad turn. I know you’re so busy but,” bang, crash, “can you come by the house? He’s asking for you.”
“I’m on my way,” I say, and as soon as I finish speaking the line goes dead.
My heart is pounding. Dad has never been violent but when he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s I read everything I could find on it. Personality changes are too common, including normally peaceful people becoming increasingly violent.
Fumbling with my phone I get the ride share app open and then move to the corner of the street for easier pickup. I watch the little car move closer and closer on the app but I swear it’s going in slow motion. I will it to hurry up to no effect. Terrible thoughts spin in my head. Mom needs me. Dad needs me.
The silver Toyota Camry pulls up to the curb and I jump into the rear seat, slamming the door.
“Hurry please, it’s an emergency,” I say.
“Sure,” the driver says, “traffic isn’t too bad today.”
As we pull away from the curb, I stare out the window. The world outside slides by peaceful and quiet, undisturbed by the turmoil of my life. The Midwest is known for being friendly, and even bigger towns like Columbia have that “small-town” feel. On either coast Columbia would not be considered a big town. It’d barely qualify as a suburb, but in Missouri it ranks as the fourth biggest city in the state.
Having grown up here, it’s home. I’ve been to the “real” big cities and didn’t really care for them. They’re okay, but not the same. The question is, will I trade this for the even more intimate life of the past?
Time can move different, so maybe I can go back and not lose too much time here? Could I… I hadn’t thought about this but if I can go back, could I bring Duncan here? How would he react to this world four hundred years in his future?
I can’t stop the smile on my face thinking about him seeing a car for the first time. Or a plane? Oh my god he’d for sure be thinking it was all witchcraft. He might have a heart attack! I muse on the idea as something to keep my thoughts occupied. Anything to hold at bay all the bad thoughts floating around my head. Everything will be fine. Dad won’t hurt Mom. I’m sure of it. I don’t care how far along the disease is. He loves her.
We pull into my quiet neighborhood. Trees line the street and the rows of similar, but not exactly the same, ranch-style homes roll past. The driver stops on the street in front of my house and I jump out with a shouted “thank you” as I run for the door.
Before I reach it, something crashes inside the house. I don’t recall finding my keys or opening the door but I’m running through the foyer towards the kitchen in the back where the shouting is coming from.
“He wants to take my baby girl away,” Dad shouts. “And you, who are you? Why are you here? Why won’t you leave me alone?”
Dad has the kitchen table between him and my mother. His hair is a mess, sticking off the sides of his head looking like the wings of a bird midflight. It’s still dark enough to call to mind the raven. He has both hands gripped tight around a cast-iron skillet that he’s waving wildly in front of him. Mom is in the doorway to the dining room, keeping her distance.
The instant I see her the world lags again and a tingling sensation of wrongness scratches at my awareness, and for an instant I’m nauseous. Mom glances in my direction. Right before the lag sensation ends, she smiles, and in that brief moment it’s a predatory smile, but then everything snaps and it’s clearly relief. She looks back at my father.
“I’m so glad you’re here, honey,” she says. “I know how busy you are, but he won’t calm down.”
“None of this is real,” Dad shouts. “You’re not real. What have you done with my wife? You want my girl. I know it, you monsters. Where’s my baby? Where’s Quinn?”
“I’m here, Dad,” I say, stepping past Mom into the kitchen.
I hold my hands up and walk slowly towards him. His rheumy eyes are wide, and he doesn’t have his dentures in. His slack skin is covered with age spots and his hand shakes as he strains to hold out the heavy cast-iron skillet.
