I’m done living in the midst of questions. If I have to knock on every door, drive down every street, I’m not leaving Madison until I find him. And when I do, I’m coming home with my husband or a divorce.
Four hours. That’s how long I drove. I had to stop and ask for directions twice due to my spur-of-the-moment decision to take this trip and my GPS going stupid. My cell phone has been ringing nonstop since I let my friends know about my decision to go to Madison alone. After driving so long, I’m starting to think they were right.
The wiser part of me wishes I would have waited a couple of days to let this sink in, to wait for word from Helen, to at least pack some clothing. I’ve been pulled over on the side of the road, staring down the “Welcome to Madison” sign for at least thirty minutes. The pissed, angry, and anxious part of me is ready to start randomly knocking on doors. To be honest, that’s pretty much the only idea I have. I have absolutely no idea where Cal is, or even if he’s still here. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I find him. What am I going to say? There are so many things I want to know, that I’ve never had answers for. The newspaper article just added more questions to the list. Until last night, when I heard him, I’ve tried to forget about him. I’ve tried so hard, but the fact that Caylen is his spitting image doesn’t help much.
When I first saw her, I cried. Both from the happiness of seeing my child’s face and because I knew I’d never be able to forget her father. Every time I look at her, he’s staring back at me, mocking me. And then there’s my promise to him… but he’s definitely broken some of his own.
I lean across the armrest, open my glove compartment, and pull out the worn, stained envelope. I didn’t even want it in my house. I open it up and take out my wedding ring. I haven’t touched it in so long. The day I found out I was pregnant with Caylen, I took it off and sealed it in an envelope. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away, but I couldn’t wear it either.
I think about his picture in the newspaper article again. How his expression seemed foreign, but even in the low-quality picture, his eyes drew me in.
I let out a sigh and look at the clock. It’s four thirty. Four and a half hours have gone by… another sigh. I take a deep breath once more and look at myself in the rearview mirror. The bags around my eyes can carry groceries. I look as though I haven’t slept in days.
I pick up my phone and dial Helen’s number. I get the same message saying she’s not available now and to try back later. I hang up in frustration.
I don’t know anything about this town except our school played them in football once or twice. I don’t even know if Cal is here.
My phone rings again. This time, it’s Angela.
“Hi, Angie.” I sigh, watching a car speed by.
“Actually, it’s Hillary. I borrowed her cell since you won’t answer for me,” she says.
I roll my eyes, still livid about what happened earlier. “Well, I didn’t answer for a reason.”
“Lauren, I said I’m sorry. I know I should have told you when I first found out, but I didn’t know how,” she blurts out quickly.
“Well, you sure figured it out today,” I retort sharply.
“You’re right. I was the biggest bitch in the world,” she says with a laugh. But it’s forced, and she stops with a sigh. “I just thought that you starting to see Steven would make things better for you. That you wouldn’t stay cooped up in the house with Caylen, and you would start being yourself again.”
I admit I have directed my anger at her instead of myself for being so naïve and stupid. “I’m sorry that things haven’t been like they were between us. That Angela and I seem closer, but… it’s just that Angela saw me at one of the lowest times in my life. So I don’t feel so exposed when I talk to her because she’s seen me at my worst. I just… I don’t know when I’ll break down, you know? I constantly feel vulnerable, and I hate myself for feeling that way. I’m embarrassed about it.” I frown at myself. “I was mad at you today because you were telling me the truth. The same thing that little voice in my head keeps telling me, but I stopped listening to that voice the day I met Cal.”
I let out a small laugh, wiping away the tears slipping from my eyes. I hear her laugh on the other end. It feels good to laugh with her.
“Yep, that’s me! The big voice yelling at you that you can’t shut up.”
“I need that voice sometimes,” I assure her.
“Yeah, well, it works for me,” she says, giggling, then she clears her throat before speaking again. “I called my aunt, the one I was telling you about who lives in Madison. I was trying to get her to give me Gwen Scott’s address.” She pauses as if waiting for me to respond. When I don’t, she continues. “She badgered me about why I needed it, and we argued. But in the end, I just promised my cousin twenty-five bucks for it when I see her.”
She laughs, but my playful mood is completely gone. The mention of the Scotts makes my heart pound.
“Th-the woman who says she’s his mom?”
“Yeah… I figured if you were going to start looking somewhere, what better place than his parents’ house? Or the people who say they’re his parents…”
I rub my temples. This is all just so much.
“Lauren, you aren’t driving, are you?” she asks suddenly. I guess she’s worried that I’ll run myself off the road.
“No, I’m actually pulled over in front of the ’Welcome to Madison’ sign.”
“Are you serious?” She giggles.
“Yeah,” I admit, chuckling at myself. “I didn’t really know where to go, and knocking on everyone’s door sounded kind of dangerous after some thought.”
“We shouldn’t have let you leave like that. But I don’t think you would have let us stop you.” She laughs, and I join in.
“Probably not.”
“Do you have a pen?”
“Yeah…” I say, grabbing a pen out of my purse and a receipt from an earlier purchase.
“1206 North Grenton Street,” she says, and I scribble it down quickly. I take a deep breath. “If you have any problems, call me, okay, L?”
“I will.”
“Do you want my aunt’s address?”
“No. I’ll be okay,” I assure her, staring at the receipt with the address on it. My hands are shaking.
“Do you think he’s going to be there?” she asks meekly.
“Well, I’m about to find out.” I sigh.
“Be careful, and call me as soon as you get there. Don’t do anything that will put you in jail.” She rambles on.
“I won’t, Hil,” I say as she continues to talk. “I’m hanging up now. Just tell everyone I’m okay.”
I’m pretty sure she’s still talking as I hang up and stare at the address on the paper. I pick up my map and see that the directions Hillary gave me are right on. I set the map and address on the passenger seat and rest my head on the steering wheel for a few moments to think.
Cal never told me anything about his parents. All I know is that he was adopted when he was young, and they were estranged.