You'd Be Home Now (80)
Some of them are looking at us.
“Excuse me,” my dad says, stepping in front of me protectively. “I’m sorry to bother you. I’m looking for my son. Tall kid named Joey. Wearing an orange shirt? From the hoagie shop on Main? Short hair, kind of messy. Got in a fight, has a bruised cheek.”
Spent needles gleam around the edges of my dad’s shoes. I shrink a little behind him.
There must be fifty people down here. It’s hard to tell in the dark, and some of them are sleeping huddled together. All of them are wet from spending the day in the rain.
A woman stands up. “I haven’t seen anyone like that today. I’ve been here since around noon.”
Her face is dirty.
“Can you, maybe, if you do see him, ask him to come home, please?” I say.
“I sure will,” the woman says. Her voice is pleasant, like we’re talking about the weather and not some messed-up missing kid.
My father nods. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“You think you could help out a bit?” the woman says.
My father looks startled. “Yes, of course.”
He peels some bills out of his wallet and hands them to the woman.
“Bless you,” she says. She takes the bills, counts them, tucks them inside her jacket.
My father hesitates, looking around at all the people. The flickering fire. The empty soup cans. Rolls of toilet paper, right out in the open, next to sleeping bags and blankets.
A couple of people get up and stand next to the woman.
There are so many people down here. Like my dad said, this is their home. In the cold rain. Freezing and huddling together for warmth.
My father makes a little sound in his throat, looking at all of them.
Then he takes the rest of the money from his wallet and clears some of the needles aside with his sneaker. He spreads out his handkerchief on the ground and lays the money on it carefully, so it’s not dirty from the ground when they pick it up.
“Thank you,” he says. “For your help.”
* * *
—
Back in the car, he sits for a long time, watching them.
He turns around to face my mother. Her face is frightened, which scares me, because she’s never frightened. Or at least, she doesn’t show it.
“Look at these people, Abigail. This is our town. Your town.”
My mother’s voice is soft. “I don’t understand what you expect me to do, Neil.”
My dad’s voice falters as he turns back around.
“Well, I’m not sure, Abigail,” he says tightly. “But those people need help, or this is the place they will die.”
Then he starts the car and takes us home.
* * *
—
I pace in my room, Fuzzy nervously darting in between my legs. I feel weird, like I can’t get a fix on myself. Like I’m floating away from myself. Not real.
When my phone flashes, I’m so startled I almost drop it. It’s Maddie, video calling.
“What the hell happened?” she asks. “Mom texted me and then suddenly the police are calling me, asking me if I’ve heard from Joey.”
I sit down on my bed. “He’s gone. He and Mom had a fight and…we went to Hank’s Hoagies and watched the surveillance video. Maddie, Luther was there.”
My sister’s face crumples. “Oh, shit, no.”
“He handed him drugs over the counter and Joey took them and then…he left. He disappeared.”
“Well, where the fuck is Luther? He’s probably with him. Tell the police to find him.”
“I think they’ll try, but who knows where he might be. He could be anywhere.”
“I’m not sure what to do. I should probably stay here, right? In case he, I don’t know, heads out here? I mean, shit, what should I do?”
“I don’t know. I guess? I mean, he might go anywhere.”
“Maddie.” I hate the way my voice sounds so small.
“What?”
“I…Joey got high the night of the dance. I didn’t tell Mom and Dad.”
She’s quiet. “I get that. You probably thought you could fix it.”
“Should I tell them now?”
Maddie blows air slowly. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. I mean, what’s it going to solve at this point?”
“I don’t know.” I say. “I don’t know what to do. About anything.”
“It’s okay, Emmy. Just sit tight. And take care of Mom. She’s going to put on a tough act or she’s going to go quiet. Either way, take it easy on her.”
“Okay.”
“Love you, Emmy-bear,” she says.
“Love you, too.”
As soon as Maddie hangs up, I start texting Joey, over and over. The police said he’d ditch his phone, but maybe he hasn’t yet. There’s always a chance. That I can reach him.
Come back
Please come home
I love you
We’ll help you
We saw the tape with Luther and we just want you to come home
Please Joey
Answer me
Come home