The drive home was depressing, and my mind was whirling with images of Rhett. He was eighteen the last time I saw him. He was planning to go to college, something local so we could still see each other. Of course all that changed when he disappeared. Last I heard he went to Berkeley.
When he came home, we would sit out by the lake and he would tell me how he was going to be different to his family; he wasn’t going to chase profit, he wanted to build something for the future. He was excited, happy to do his own thing, not interested in the money he could earn by going into the family business. A company he now worked for, and from the looks of it, very successfully. I couldn’t think of anything that would have happened to make him change his mind. Why was he working for the very thing he so despised eight years ago?
It was nearing midnight when I pulled into the small driveway of my Oma’s cottage. It was a small house, two bedrooms, a cozy living area and a big open kitchen where we spent most of our time. Oma was usually cooking and, since all of us liked to be close to her, we usually sat around the kitchen on the mismatched bar stools, eating food and chatting. My sister, Frederica, was always glued to her phone as any respectable fifteen year old would be and our little Josie would sit in her high chair, happy to put anything in her mouth she could get her chubby little hands on. It was home and I loved it.
The light in the living room was still on, and I knew Oma would still be awake. She worried about us girls, especially since there was always the chance that mom would show up again. We technically didn’t have custody of Freddie, something we all liked to ignore. But mom didn’t really care where her children were as long as they left her alone. So the arrangement had worked without a problem for the past thirteen years.
I unlocked the front door and took off my shoes to quietly sneak inside. Josie was a heavy sleeper, but I didn’t want to risk waking her up. As much as she was an easy going child, she was a little demon when woken up.
I put my shoes down in the hallway next to the pile that was already there and turned the corner into the living room. Oma was sitting in her chair, knitting and sipping a cup of tea. I threw myself onto the couch next to her, took a drink of her tea and immediately started to cough. Should have known better than to drink something I didn’t check first. Last time I accidentally drank a soggy biscuit that Josie left in my coffee when I absently grabbed the mug without looking inside first.
“Is there any tea in there or just rum?” I asked, putting the cup down and taking her outstretched hand. It was getting harder for her to open her hands but she still powered on. I could tell she had trouble knitting, but she loved it and would be devastated to give it up. She gave my hand a squeeze in greeting before getting back to her knitting. We all had about eighty pairs of socks, equally as many sweaters and hats, and would soon be the proud owners of new mittens, Oma’s latest project.
“How was it?” she asked, her accent heavy and familiar.
“Interesting. I saw Rhett again.” Better to come out with it straight away. Oma would find out eventually anyway, no sense in hiding anything from her. Something I had learned early on.
“That explains why you look like a sip of water in a corner.” She nodded her head like she agreed with herself and stopped knitting.
I on the other hand didn’t even know what that meant. It made not a lick of sense to me. But then again, most things Oma said didn’t really make much sense to anyone. She lived in a world of her own.
“That’s good,” she declared, her attention on me now. “No sense on worrying your pretty head today. Try and get some sleep. I have a feeling you’ll need it.”
“I have a feeling you’re right. I’ll check on the girls and then I’ll hit the hay.Gute Nacht, Oma.”
I heaved my tired body back out of the comfortable sofa and kissed her cheek, noticing she had lost weight again. I knew Oma was eighty five years old, but she was my superhero. Indestructible and able to do anything. She’d saved me and Freddie when mom had decided she was done being a parent. She was the only constant in my life, and I didn’t know what I’d do without her. I might have been twenty two and still living at home, but I didn’t see it changing anytime soon either.
I shared a room with Freddie, and Oma was with Josie. I was hardly ever in the room except to sleep, so the arrangement worked for me. It drove Freddie crazy to share a closet, but we didn’t really have a choice. We’d been in the same room ever since we came to live here. Now she was getting older, she was realizing that she wanted her own space. Not something she would likely get until she moved out.
I checked on Josie first, making sure she was all good for the night so Oma didn’t have to get up. She was passed out in her crib, clutching her stuffed toy, a donkey that was missing an ear, like a lifeline. She wouldn’t even let us wash it. If it was out of her sight for more than a few minutes, she’d lose it. I shuddered thinking about all the grossness that was on that thing, but it wasn’t worth the drama so I left it alone. I gently stroked a finger over the bridge of her nose, something that always calmed her down and had become a habit to me. Her hair was getting longer, her curly mop now at a stage where I had to tie it back. Not something I complained about because I loved braiding her hair. She didn’t stir and I went next door to finally go to bed.
I was more than ready to collapse on my bed and not move again until tomorrow. The room was a mess, and because I didn’t want to wake Freddie I didn’t turn on the lights. Instead I stumbled my way towards my bed. The light shining in from the hallway revealed every available surface covered in clothes. She had even used my bed, and I had to dig deep to unearth my blankets.
I shot an annoyed glance her way and noticed there was no lump on her bed. An uneasy feeling stole its way into my body, and I walked closer to make sure I wasn’t overreacting. She was pretty small, maybe she was buried under her blankets. I haltingly held out my arm and touched the cover, finding it empty. Not. Effing. Again. She promised she wouldn’t do it again after I caught her sneaking in late last time. Her curfew was midnight. She knew it. And chose to continuously ignore it. It drove me crazy.
I went back into the living room where Oma was still knitting. “Do you know where Freddie went? She’s not home.”
“Her friend picked her up. The one with all the metal. Don’t like the look of him. He never says hello and doesn’t eat any of my strudel. There is nothing wrong with it. I’ve been making it for nearly seventy years.”
I didn’t like Freddie’s friend either. Not only did the cops arrest him on a weekly schedule, he also liked to think of himself as the local happiness distributor. Meaning, he sold any drug he could get his hands on. But that’s what Dickhead told me he did when I made the mistake of attempting small talk. I couldn’t understand why she would want to hang out with him. She promised me she wasn’t doing any drugs. But the crowd she was hanging out with these days made that hard to believe.
She was young, ready to experiment and didn’t care what her big sister said. Many times she told me that I wasn’t her mother. I never told her that we didn’t really have custody of her. She was so little when we moved in with Oma that she couldn’t remember it being any other way. We’d seen mom once since, when she showed up at the front door asking for money. I made Freddie go to her room. She didn’t even recognize her.
I didn’t know what to do. I had tried reasoning, pleading, begging, yelling, crying—that one I wasn’t proud of but desperation was a bitch—and finally blackmail. But nothing worked. And now she was out with him again, ignoring her curfew. I guess my night wasn’t over yet, after all.
“I’ll go and see if I can find her,” I said, putting my shoes back on. My keys were still where I threw them next to the door. There was only a few places she could be. Butler was small and her options limited.
I hit the football field first but it was dark and deserted. The abandoned drive-in cinema was next, but except for a whole lot of dead grass and leaves it was also empty. That only left one more place, and one that I definitely did not want to go to. Dickhead’s house. He lived in an old farmhouse out of town and his closest neighbor was ten miles away. I hated it there. But I guess it was perfect for his shady business.
I made it there in less than twenty minutes, only passing one car on the way. The farmhouse was lit up like a Christmas tree, people standing around on the porch, the music deafening.
Jackpot.
I got out, painfully aware I was still in my suit, and made my way to the open front door. I knew a few of the people hanging around, but mostly they were out of towners. Ignoring their stares, I went inside to look for my sister. The windows were vibrating and conversation was nearly impossible. I gave up asking if anyone had seen her after the third blank stare. It didn’t help that most of them looked like they were high as a kite or drunk.
I slowly made my way through each room, past sweaty bodies and broken furniture. There was no sign of Freddie anywhere, and I reluctantly went upstairs. There were three doors to the left, two to the right. I started with the first door on the left, praying there wasn’t anything in there that I could never un-see. Thankfully the room was empty, the only occupant a lone bed in the middle. Odd place to put it.
There was noise coming from the next room, and I hesitantly put my hand on the doorknob. When I heard a loud moan and a creaking bed spring, I let go immediately and took a step back. No thanks. I moved on without opening the door. The next room was completely empty and I worked my way to the other side of the hallway. I heard a loud crash from the room closest to the end and put my ear to the door. A scream ripped through the wood, making my head snap back. That one did seem familiar and not like anyone was enjoying themselves.
