By the time I pulled back into the driveway, I was breathing heavy, and I felt cold. My shoulders were so tense I thought they were going to snap. I wondered why I hadn’t left, already.
TWENTY
“Bud Gantner called for you,” my father said to me as I walked in the door. I set the keys down on the kitchen table, “and someone named O’Mally.” I froze.
“Did—umm—did they say what they—wuh—wanted?” I asked without turning.
The paper rustled, “Bud just wanted to see if you were alright. He says you went to the men’s room last night and then didn’t come back. The other boy didn’t say,” then came the inevitable pause, the rustling of the paper, “that isn’t that O’Mally boy you went to school with, is it?”
“Yeah,” I said, “I ran into him the other night.”
“At Sully’s?” my father asked, and I could hear each word grate on my nerves like a polishing machine: in me, sparks flew everywhere.
“Yeah,” I said. Just then, mercifully, the phone rang. “I got it,” I said, and walked to the counter. I didn’t care who it was, as long as it stopped my father before he got going. “Hello?” I said.
“Michael,” Sarah said. I heard her breathe in, hold, then exhale. Her mouth sounded dry.
“Hi,” I said.
“How are you?” she asked, in that way that meant ‘I don’t care, but you expect me to ask’.
“I’m okay,” I said, already wondering if I was going to call Kevin at all, and if so, him or Susan first.
“How much longer are you going to be staying there?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it,” I said. On the phone, there came another inhale, exhale, and then a low rumbling sound.
“Is that your cat?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, “with Diane away, he won’t leave me alone for five seconds.”
“Where’s Diane?”
“She’s left me.”
All my trains of thought stopped. For a second, the entire room was quiet. I heard her shirt move against the speaker, and the rumbling got quieter.
“I—umm—I don’t know how much—how much longer. Why?” I asked.
“Because I was thinking—,” she began, trailing off. I waited. “Because I wanted to ask you to come stay with me a few days to—to help me get my things packed. I’m moving, you see; out of here, away. I’d like some help.”
I looked back into the living room. My father was just putting the paper down, and picking up the remote control. The television clicked on, and he began to rock the chair some. I looked back at the phone. “I—umm—I don’t know, Sarah. I—,” I started.
“That’s fine, Michael. I could have used the help, is all. I can manage, though. Thank you for your—”
“Wait a minute.” I looked at my shoes. “Just—just fucking wait a minute, okay?” I sat down at the table, the telephone cord stretched over my shoulder. “I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be here, Sarah. And I don’t know how much longer I’m—,” ‘going to be with Susan’ I almost said. To this day, I remember clearly having to will myself to stop talking. “—needed,” I said, “here. I had to go to the sheriff’s office today to get some—,”
“Sheriff’s office? Why? What happened?”
“—some papers. There was an accident at church the other night I had to go get the police report.”
“Aren’t those usually faxed or mailed directly to the insurance company?” “Probably in a real town, yes. Here, though, we have to deal with Aiken. You know that.”
I heard another inhale/exhale. I could tell she had calmed down some. “You’re tense, Michael. What is it?”
I turned to look at my father, and saw that the mid-day news was on. The graphic at the top right hand of the screen was a picture of a set bones in the dirt. “Sarah? I’m gonna’ have to let you go. Can I take some time to think about this? That’s not a ‘no’, just—I—umm—need a little time. Is that okay?”
She exhaled loudly, “I guess, Michael. Call me,” she said, and hung up.
I rushed into the living room just as the anchor person switched over to video tape of a small stage. In the audience were ten or eleven people in suits, all working furiously on yellow legal pads or tiny spiral notebooks. On the stage was a wooden podium. The state seal was on it. The national flag was on one side, the state flag on the other. At the podium was a man in police uniform. The caption underneath him on the screen read ‘Sgt. Abe Mills’. He straightened some papers he had in his hands, cleared his throat, and said “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen for coming out today. I want to assure you that we have been working ‘round the clock on the matter of the remains found just north of town four days ago. At this stage in the investigation, we have some conclusive forensic evidence. I’d like to turn this conference over to Doctor James Clarke, the forensics officer assigned to this case. After he speaks, there will be time for questions for either I, or Dr. Clarke,” and then he stepped to one side.
I sat down on the couch. My father, in his chair, picked up the remote and aimed it at the television. “Horseshit,” he mumbled.
“Don’t!” I said.
He looked over at me, his eyes squinted. I thought for a second he was going to ask me why not, but his eyes relaxed, and he settled the little box back down onto his thigh. When I turned back to the screen, a tall man in a blue windbreaker was behind the microphone.
“We’ve had to send some of the remains off to Eukiah for double checking; dental records and so forth. You all watch television, I’m sure you’re all familiar with what it is we do, now,” he said, and looked down. I got the impression he wasn’t happy about the new found popularity of his field of work. “But I’ve been working in this field a long time. I can tell you this. The remains are incomplete and, judging from some of the marks I saw on them, this is likely due to scavenging. We did have enough to work with, though, to sort of get the ball rolling,” he said. He looked down at his notes, flipped a page, then said “without dental records, I cannot be certain of the identity, but here are some broad facts. The remains are those of a male, approximately 6 to 8 years old,” he said, and the room came alive with murmuring. I closed my eyes. It seemed like a bullet had gone through me. To know, to finally know. The doctor raised his hand, palm out and shushed the crowd. He continued “I understand what you’re all thinking, and let me assure you, I’ll get the results of the dental record check out as soon as it’s back. Let’s understand something, though, folks,” he said, and leaned forward on the podium like a preacher. “Even if this little boy isn’t Randolph McPherson—,” the rest of what he was going to say was drown out. The room exploded into noise.
Hearing the name made it hard to breathe. For so long, he was just a face in the back of my head. A set of emotions tied in a knot that had a name only I knew. To hear a complete stranger speak that name made me tear up.