I stood beside the kitchen table with the telephone in my hand.<\/p>\n
The house had grown quiet after dinner, but it wasn't the kind of quiet that let a person rest.<\/p>\n
Maddie was asleep in the back bedroom.<\/p>\n
Bentley's backpack sat beside the old chair, its straps twisted together on the floor.<\/p>\n
He had tried to put it neatly against the wall earlier. Then he had moved it closer to the chair, where he could see it without turning his head.<\/p>\n
I had noticed.<\/p>\n
I had also noticed that he kept looking toward the front window whenever a car passed.<\/p>\n
I dialed the hospital again.<\/p>\n
While it rang, I watched the blue dish towel hanging over the oven handle.<\/p>\n
It was an ordinary thing to look at, and I was grateful for something ordinary.<\/p>\n
A few minutes earlier, Bentley had asked whether I thought his mother would call that night.<\/p>\n
I had told him I hoped she would.<\/p>\n
I hadn't said yes.<\/p>\n
I had learned that evening how much a promise could weigh when a child had already been waiting too long.<\/p>\n
The call continued ringing.<\/p>\n
I listened until I could no longer bear to hold the receiver against my ear.<\/p>\n
Then I tried again.<\/p>\n
I gave the hospital the information I had: Amber's name, the fact that she had reportedly fallen at work, and the fact that her ten-year-old son had not heard from her in six days.<\/p>\n
I explained that I was their neighbor.<\/p>\n
I explained that the children had been without their mother for nine days, and that I had only recently understood how much they had been managing alone.<\/p>\n
I kept my voice level.<\/p>\n
I didn't want to make the situation sound smaller than it was, but I didn't want to frighten the person listening either.<\/p>\n
When I finished, I waited.<\/p>\n
I could hear faint voices on the other end, then a pause.<\/p>\n
I answered the questions I was asked as carefully as I could.<\/p>\n
I did not have a room number.<\/p>\n
I did not know which department Amber had been taken to.<\/p>\n
I could not tell them the exact date of her surgery because Bentley had never been told enough to understand it himself.<\/p>\n
Every missing detail seemed to open another empty space.<\/p>\n
I had spent most of my adult life believing that if you explained something clearly enough, somebody could help you solve it.<\/p>\n
That night, I began to understand that a clear explanation did not always bring a clear answer.<\/p>\n
When the call ended, I lowered the telephone slowly.<\/p>\n
I hadn't found out whether Amber was coming home.<\/p>\n
I hadn't found out why she had stopped calling.<\/p>\n
I hadn't found out whether she knew her children were waiting in a neighbor's house, trying to act as though everything might still turn out the way she had promised.<\/p>\n
I set the telephone down.<\/p>\n
Bentley stood in the doorway.<\/p>\n
He had been quiet enough that I hadn't heard him come out of the hall.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid they find her?\u201d<\/p>\n
I turned toward him.<\/p>\n
\u201cI spoke to the hospital again.\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes moved to the telephone.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you talk to Mom?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, sweetheart. I haven't spoken to your mom yet.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked down at the floor.<\/p>\n
I wanted to reach for him, but I waited a moment.<\/p>\n
Sometimes a person needs to hear the answer before they can bear to be comforted by it.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid they say she's okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey didn't give me an answer I could pass on to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
He pressed his lips together.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo you don't know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cI don't know yet.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded once.<\/p>\n
It was a small movement, almost polite, and it hurt me more than if he had started crying.<\/p>\n
He had been hearing uncertainty for days.<\/p>\n
He had heard it in the silence after his mother's last call.<\/p>\n
He had heard it every morning when he woke up and realized she still wasn't home.<\/p>\n
He had heard it in every empty cupboard and every afternoon that passed without the telephone ringing.<\/p>\n
Now he was hearing it from me.<\/p>\n
\u201cI'll keep trying,\u201d I told him.<\/p>\n
He looked up.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou promise?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI promise I'll keep trying to find out what happened.\u201d<\/p>\n
I made the promise carefully because I could keep it.<\/p>\n
I could make another call.<\/p>\n
I could ask another question.<\/p>\n
I could refuse to pretend that the children were fine simply because they had eaten dinner and gone to bed.<\/p>\n
What I couldn't promise was the answer.<\/p>\n
Bentley rubbed his palms against his pajama bottoms.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom said she'd call somebody if she couldn't come home.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI remember.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe said she wouldn't leave us alone.\u201d<\/p>\n
His voice was quiet.<\/p>\n
I pulled out the chair beside me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWould you like to sit for a minute?\u201d<\/p>\n
He came to the table but didn't sit immediately.<\/p>\n
His eyes moved toward the back bedroom.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs Maddie asleep?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid she eat enough?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe ate her dinner. She had some bread, too.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded as if he needed to confirm the facts for himself.<\/p>\n
\u201cSometimes she says she's hungry again after she eats.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat's all right. If she wakes up hungry, we'll find her something.\u201d<\/p>\n
He finally sat down.<\/p>\n
I could see how tired he was now that he wasn't moving around the kitchen or watching his sister.<\/p>\n
His shoulders had dropped.<\/p>\n
His eyelids looked heavy.<\/p>\n
But his hands remained busy, folding and unfolding the edge of his sleeve.<\/p>\n
\u201cBentley, you can go to sleep tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n
He shook his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if Mom calls?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf she calls, I'll answer the telephone.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if she calls when you're asleep?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI'll keep the telephone close enough to hear it.\u201d<\/p>\n
He studied my face.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you'll tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course I will.\u201d<\/p>\n
He seemed to consider that.<\/p>\n
Then he looked at the old chair near the wall.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I sleep there?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can sleep wherever you're comfortable. But that chair isn't a bed, and you need proper rest.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don't mind.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know you don't mind. That doesn't mean it's what you need.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked away.<\/p>\n
I wondered how many times he had told himself that he didn't mind something because admitting that he minded would have made the situation harder.<\/p>\n
He didn't mind being hungry.<\/p>\n
He didn't mind sleeping lightly.<\/p>\n
He didn't mind getting his little sister dressed when he was tired himself.<\/p>\n
He didn't mind carrying the responsibility because he had decided there was nobody else who could carry it for him.<\/p>\n
I had been looking at a ten-year-old boy all day.<\/p>\n
I was only beginning to see how long he had been trying not to be one.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome on,\u201d I said softly. \u201cLet's get you settled.\u201d<\/p>\n
He stood, but he glanced at the telephone one more time.<\/p>\n
I picked it up and carried it with me.<\/p>\n
He watched me do it.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou're really keeping it with you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
For the first time that evening, something in his face loosened.<\/p>\n
It wasn't happiness.<\/p>\n
It was only the smallest easing of a worry that had been sitting there for days.<\/p>\n
I walked with him toward the bedroom.<\/p>\n
The light from the kitchen fell across the hallway behind us.<\/p>\n
I left it on.<\/p>\n
PART 9 END<\/p>\n
I stood beside the kitchen table with the telephone in my hand. The house had grown quiet after dinner, but it wasn't the kind of quiet that let a person … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":36383,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-36392","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-insightdrama"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/36392","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=36392"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/36392\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":36412,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/36392\/revisions\/36412"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/36383"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=36392"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=36392"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=36392"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}