Missing Pieces(8)

Sarah and Jack made their way to the elevators. “Amy doesn’t look good,” Jack commented. “I’m worried about her.”

“She’s the one who found Julia after she fell, right? That must have been very traumatic.”

“Yeah, but there’s something else.” Jack pressed the elevator’s down button, and then again and again, as if the elevator couldn’t come quickly enough. He searched for the right words. “Something in her eyes,” he added.

“You should talk to her,” Sarah said. She caught a flurry of movement out of the corner of her eye. A doctor was hurrying down the corridor, her long white coat flowing behind her. Sarah’s first thought was Julia had taken a turn for the worse and held her breath until the doctor turned in the opposite direction of Julia’s room.

The elevator door finally opened and they stepped inside. The doors closed and Sarah leaned against Jack.

“I don’t know. I probably should, but I’m sure it won’t make a difference.”

The old elevator creaked and groaned and was excruciatingly slow in its descent, stopping at each floor, though no one was there to get in. Sarah figured whoever was waiting gave up and used the stairs instead.

“I think she’d listen to you, Jack. She seemed so glad to see you.”

Sarah’s thoughts suddenly went back to their earlier conversation about Amy. She recalled how Jack had become distracted by something he had seen down the hallway.

“What did you see earlier?” Sarah asked. “When we were in the hallway talking to Dean and Celia?”

Jack pushed the first-floor button again as if it could speed up their descent. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said, feigning ignorance.

“Come on, Jack, tell me,” Sarah pressed.

“It was nothing,” Jack insisted. The elevator finally arrived at their floor and the doors opened to an empty, quiet hallway. It was cold and eerie, and Sarah couldn’t help but wonder if they kept the morgue down here, as well. Jack turned right, following the sign directing them to the cafeteria, and Sarah quickened her pace to keep up with him.

“Jack, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

Jack stopped abruptly. “Cut it out, Sarah. I didn’t see anything,” he said, but Sarah looked at him expectantly. “Okay. Fine. For a second I thought I saw my dad.”

“Your dad?” she questioned in confusion. He was the last person she expected Jack to mention. “That’s impossible.”

“I don’t know. It’s not like I got a clear look at whoever it was.”

“I know it’s not easy being back here. I’m sure it’s bringing up a lot of old memories.”

They entered the cafeteria, where the dim recessed lighting and a low ceiling made the room feel downright dismal. The smell of overboiled broccoli and strongly brewed coffee filled Sarah’s nose. The room was empty except for a woman in a white apron and a hairnet perched behind a cash register, flicking through a magazine, and a man sitting alone at a table, staring out a rain-spattered window into the black night, his food untouched in front of him.

Sarah’s eyes searched the room and landed on a table in the far corner. “There,” she said, pointing. They walked past the cashier, who didn’t look up from her magazine, and made their way toward the back of the cafeteria.

“God, he still wears this old thing.” Jack smiled as he bent over and picked up the hat from the worn green linoleum. “I think Amy got this for Hal for Christmas, like, twenty-five years ago.”

“It must mean a lot to him,” Sarah said.

Jack grew quiet.

“Hey.” Sarah nudged him gently. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I just can’t shake the feeling that I saw my dad,” Jack said. “You must think I’m nuts.”

“Of course not,” Sarah replied, trying to comfort him, though she couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. “Last month I thought I saw my grandpa at the grocery store and he died when I was seven.”

“Yeah, but I bet you’d be happy to get the chance to see your grandpa again. I can’t say I feel the same way about my dad. I won’t ever be able to forgive him.”

“Never?” Sarah asked. “You’ll never be able to forgive him?”

“Would you be able to forgive your dad if he killed your mother?” Jack asked pointedly as he motioned to leave the cafeteria. Sarah followed as Jack bypassed the elevator and pushed open a heavy metal door that led to the stairs. The stairwell was windowless and weakly lit by dusty fluorescent bulbs. Cobwebs swung precariously in the corners where drab cement block walls met the ceiling and Sarah quickened her pace.

“I don’t know,” Sarah answered honestly. “I’d like to think I’d be forgiving, especially if it was an accident.”

Their footsteps reverberated on the metal stairs as they wound their way upward. Sarah almost preferred the rickety old elevator to the confines of this dingy, damp stairwell. She felt relief when Jack pushed open the door to the fifth floor. They were both slightly winded from the climb.

“You must be a better person than I am,” Jack said somewhat breathlessly, and Sarah decided it was best to end the conversation there.

When they returned to the waiting area, Hal was sitting by himself, staring up blankly at a television set affixed to the wall.