“Then it would seem an inappropriate time for romantic gestures.”
“So what I’m saying doesn’t make sense to you?”
I twisted my wedding ring. “I think Sam’s been trying to tell me something for weeks, and I’ve missed it. Still, if there’s even a chance that his absence isn’t his choice . . .”
Zoe finished my sentence. “You need to do whatever you can to find him.”
Smooch slid from Zoe’s neck onto her lap. Zoe’s petting grew more aggressive as she considered her next words. Thanks to her remarkably expressive face, I could read what was coming. Finally, she said, “I hope Sam’s having an affair.” Having settled on an explanation that was both logical and meant Sam was safe, her voice grew more animated. “Sam’s been acting shady, he says you guys need to talk. Those women mention it looked like he was waiting for someone at that house where you found Audrey. That text he sent. And Ozzy’s obviously covering for him.” She paused to catch her breath. “I hope Sam hooked up with some bimbo and he’s just taking some time to figure everything out, because if that’s what happened, he’ll be back.”
Even as the idea broke my heart, I thought: I hope so too.
11
I fell asleep with my hand on my phone and woke up the same way. I checked the screen. No more texts from Sam.
From the kitchen, I could hear Audrey making breakfast with Zoe. Laughing. The morning before, that had been the four of us, in our own kitchen, Sam scrambling eggs and none of us realizing it might be our last breakfast as a family.
I wasn’t yet ready for Audrey’s questions, so I pulled the blanket around me and called my son.
“Hey.” Leo’s voice held the usual hint of teen impatience. “What’s up, Mom?”
“Just checking in.” I forced a lilt in my voice. Everything fine here. “Did you and Tyler have fun last night?”
“Yeah, I guess. Why’d you call?”
“Just to say I love you.”
“Love you too. You and Dad coming to the game?”
It took a moment for my throat to clear. “I’m not sure if Dad’s going to be able to make this one.”
“But you’re coming, right?”
“I was thinking you shouldn’t go either.”
“What?” If I’d told Leo we were moving to the Congo to live with the bonobos, he would’ve reacted with less incredulity. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I was thinking that instead, you, Audrey, and I can go to dinner.”
“Why would we do that?”
“Eating dinner is actually quite common.”
He sighed, unimpressed with my attempt at levity. “But it’s Monty.” Montgomery High, Santa Rosa’s rival. “I’m not missing Monty. No way. Coach would kill me.”
I considered forcing Leo to miss the game. I was the mom. I could do that. But then I thought: just as our family might’ve already eaten our final breakfast together, tonight might be Leo’s last game. If Sam never returned, missing Monty would no longer top Leo’s list of worst things.
“I just worry about you.”
Leo caught the slight break in my voice. “Everything okay, Mom?” A pause. “Why isn’t Dad coming to the game?”
The lie came quickly. “Dad’s at a conference, and I’m fine. I think I’m still shaken up from the other night.”
“Yeah, well, if everything’s okay, I really gotta go.” The impatience returning. “Tyler and I are gonna hit the weights before school.”
“Text me later.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m your mom.”
“Yeah, and you worry about me, I know. Whatever. Tyler’s mom’s leaving so . . .”
“Go.”
“See you at the game?”
“Audrey and I will be there.”
In the kitchen, Audrey laughed again, a rumble out of place in such a small child. Her spirit had always been outsized like that. Now, it was her and Leo that steadied my legs enough to stand and provided the focus I needed to face what was likely destined to be another hellish day.
On the ride to school, Audrey’s layers had her puffed up like a campfire marshmallow. I risked a glance in the mirror to the back seat, where she wriggled to get comfortable in her booster seat.
“Mommy, next year, can we have one of those pumpkins that looks like it’s throwing up?” she asked. “You know, with the seeds and stringy parts coming out of its mouth?”
At last, a question I could answer honestly. Earlier, when Audrey had asked where her dad was, the lie had been bitter in my mouth: I told her that her dad had apologized for leaving her alone and that he had left early that morning for a teachers’ conference. The same lie I had told Leo. It had made it so much worse that they both believed it without question.
I pulled alongside the curb near Hidden Valley Elementary.
“Sure. We can have a pumpkin like that next year.”
My breath snagged on the last two words. Next year. What would that look like for our family?
“Savannah says her dad carved a pumpkin that looks like a bat, but I think a puking pumpkin would be way cooler.”
With that, Audrey grabbed her tiara and backpack, gave me a quick hug, then bounded toward a group of girls who squealed in greeting. My heart constricted. Forget next year. I didn’t even know what the next day would look like.
Earlier, I had canceled all but my most urgent appointments, referring those to another vet. With no patients or kids to tend to, I considered my next step.
A dozen calls to Sam had gone unanswered, the most recent less than thirty minutes before. For the first time in months, I almost called my father, but it had been years since we had spoken. Six years. Our last conversation had been a stilted call a month after Audrey was born. He barely knew Leo, and he didn’t know Audrey at all, so what help could he be now?
The brick facade of the high school appeared in front of me before I fully realized where I was headed. I pulled into the staff lot and looked for Sam’s blue Camry. When I didn’t find it, I parked. Audrey’s elementary started fifteen minutes after the high school, so classes were already in session. I supposed I could call the office, inquire as to whether Sam had shown up for class, but I knew the answer: he hadn’t.
I sat in my car for twenty-five minutes, until the bell signaled the end of first period. I gripped the steering wheel as I scanned the crowd, not for Sam, but for Leo. In the flood, it took me a moment to figure out which awkward, beautiful teen was mine. Then I saw him, and, as it did every time, my heart swelled. Leo walked with Tyler and another boy I recognized but couldn’t name. My son smiled, in that way he did when he was around his friends and didn’t know Mom was watching. Leo balanced on the cusp of adulthood, but he was still very much a boy who needed a father who acted responsibly.
On my phone, I typed another text to Sam, hitting send before I could second-guess myself.
As I waited for his response, I re-read the message: Give me a reason not to file a missing person report. You’ve got five minutes.
Sam needed only three: I need time.
Well, our kids need a dad.