"Sir? Kevin invited me over to
his family's vacation house. May I go?" I shift in my beat up sneakers. Max
continues to read the evening newspaper and guzzling his beer as if I didn't
just speak. "Sir?"
"Max?" Mom pats his
shoulder hesitantly. "The Woos invited Erin to their vacation house. Can
she go?" She repeats my words, now warped in her too-sweet honeyed voice.
He puts the newspaper and bottle
down on the dining table and glares at me, then at Mom. "Why should I let
you hang around with such riffraff?" he sneers. "Haven't you seen enough
of their shabby old apartment to know that they're conning you?"
I grit my teeth and bite down the
sharp retort. "Sir—"
Mom cuts in. "Honey, you're
confusing them with the Lee's," she tries to sooth him and sets a new
bottle in front of him. "The Woos own that law firm downtown."
He hums mockingly as if in deep
thought. "No."
I deflate dejectedly and walk back
to the kitchen for some juice.
"Max, it's only for the
summer. She'll be perfectly fine," Mom says. I hear her clear as day on
the last step. "Think of—"
"For God's sake, Jessica, I
said no!" He slams his hands on the table. "You've already sent Henry
off with his friends to God-knows-where! She goes nowhere!"
Panic grips my neck, intent on
putting me into a headlock.
"Max, they're fine—" Mom
doesn't finish as a loud smack—hand
on cheek—resounds from the dining room to where I stand frozen. I squeeze my
glass hard.
"I said no," he hisses,
"and you'll do well to obey me."
Crash!
The glass bursts in my hands and showers the white tiles. I ignore that and the
worried exclamations from my mother. I pass a sinister-looking Max on the way
to the bathroom for a first aid kit.
"Punk," he jeers as I go
by.
---
Mom releases me with a final
"careful, baby girl" and I curl up in my bed as she shuts the door. I
turn over on my side and stare wistfully at the empty, pristine bed on the
other side. Henry.
Every day in the house goes about
the same way in the summer. Wake up call at six; breakfast at seven; Max leaves
at eight; Mom leaves at eight fifteen; lunch at noon; everyone home at four; dinner
at five; room at nine; and lights out at ten. Nothing much changes here.
After Max and Mom leave for the
day, I return to my room and stare at the ceiling, turning the wish stone in my
hand. I dismiss the pebbles pelting my window as local mischief-makers, the
insistent doorbell chimes as door-to-door sales representatives, and the
continuous cell phone vibrations as desperate company adverts.
I know they aren't, but it makes it
easier to cope with.
I don't leave my bed for the rest
of the day ("You're just as bad as the rest of them!") and when the
clock reads 10:30, I slip my shoes on and tiptoe to my window. I yank it open,
stopping for a moment to let the cool Chicago night breeze drift into my room
full of pent up frustration. I sling my legs over and leap onto the trampoline
lying in the lawn.
I climb off and walk as calmly as I
can down the familiar road to the house that feels more like home to me than Max's
house. I reach the tall tree in the yard where a rope hangs from a low, sturdy
branch. I take it in my hands and heave myself up the twelve feet worth of tree
trunk and seat myself on the branch.
I move closer to the wooden planks
and lift myself into the tree house. A sleepy figure catches my eye and I grin,
knowing full well that he has anticipated this. I scoot over next to him and
lay my head on his shoulder in exhaustion.
"Night, Kevin."
"Night, Rin."
My smile doesn't leave my face, and
I drift off into a dreamless sleep.
---
I open my eyes at the youthful age
of thirteen to a welcoming sun at high noon in the city of Miami. I gaze at the
beautiful wish stone in my palm and sigh.
"Erin, darling! How're you
doing?" The social worker, Miss Suzy, waves at me with a bright beaming
face as she runs by to my mom's new office.
I answer with a "fine"
and stand up from the bench. Tired from sitting all day, I take a short stroll
in the park. I chance a look behind me and all too suddenly, my heart skips
several beats. One. Two. Five. What happened to three and four?
A tall man in seemingly in his
twenties brushes my shoulder as I stop. The books in my hands tumble out and I
scramble for them. As I near the last few books, someone from behind me picks
them up and hands them to me.
"Here, you'll need these, I
presume."
I squint my eyes at him.
"Thanks, I guess."
---
"How was your day,
darling?" Mom asks as she sets the plates on the table. "I heard you
went to the library, took out some books."
I shrug. "I had
homework."
"Over the summer?" She
looks at me questioningly.
I nod. "Mrs. Hwang gave us a
research paper to finish. I'm almost done with it, though." This earns me
a wide beam from Mom. "I'll have weeks to help you out at the firm and
extra time to finish my art projects at the studio."
"Don't overwork yourself, baby
girl."
---
I don't think I'll ever find him.
The phone directories don't have him listed after the year I had left and even the
neighbors don't know where he's gone.
"Erin, baby girl, let's go.
It's cold and you're getting leaves in your hair," Mom calls from the car.
I nod and leave the pay phone.
"Did you find him?"
I shake my head.
Mom sighs and closes her eyes in
exhaustion. "Where in the blue blazes could that kid have gone?"
---
"Where is he? Where is he,
Max?"
Max makes a zipping motion across
his lips and smirks. "I don't have to tell you anything."
I cower against the pillar as Mom
tries to weasel the answer from Max. The security officer looks like he wants
to drag Max and Mom to their rightful
places but for the fear of scaring me any further he doesn't.
"I won't stop until I find
out, Max. I hope you know that."
"Oh, I do, Jessica. I do know,
and I know it well, but you're no closer to knowing than before you came
strutting in like you own the place."
"I don't strut, Max."
"Sure you don't," he says
sarcastically.
The security officer finally steps
in and drags Max away without so much as a warning.
I take Mom's arm and gently tug her
to the door. "Come on. We can figure it out, Mom, and we'll bring him home
with us before Christmas."
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