Silence

Somewhere so godforsaken that my chances of escaping and surviving would be to next to nothing.

But I must have escaped. How else could I explain making it back home? Adding to this speculation, I envisioned the dense forests spanning northern Maine and Canada. Though I had no evidence to prove I had been held there, it was my best guess. I’d escaped, and against all odds, I’d survived. It was my only working theory.

On my way out of my bedroom, I hesitated in front of the mirror long enough to scrunch my hair. It was longer now, falling halfway down my spine, with natural caramel highlights, thanks to summer’s sun. I’d definitely been someplace outdoors. My skin held a kiss of bronze, and something told me I hadn’t been hiding out in a tanning salon all those weeks. I had the aimless thought to buy new makeup, then scratched it. I didn’t want new makeup to match the new me. I just wanted the old me back.

Downstairs, I met Hank and my mom in the foyer. I vaguely noted that Hank looked like a life-size Ken doll with icy blue eyes, a golden skin tone, and an impeccable side part. The only discrepancy was Hank’s lithe build. In a brawl, Ken would have won, hands down.

“Ready?” Mom asked. She was all dressed up too, in lightweight wool pants, a blouse, and a silk wrap. But I was more aware of what she wasn’t wearing. For the first time, her wedding band was missing, leaving a pale stripe around her ring finger.

“I’ll drive separately,” I said brusquely.

Hank squeezed my shoulder playfully. Before I could squirm away, he said, “Marcie is the same way. Now that she has her license, she wants to drive everywhere.” He raised his hands as if offering no argument. “Your mother and I will meet you there.”

I debated telling Hank that my wanting to drive separately had nothing to do with a piece of plastic in my wallet. And a lot more to do with the way being around him made my stomach roll.

I swiveled to face my mom. “Can I have money for gas? Tank’s low.”

“Actually,” Mom said, aiming a help me with this look at Hank, “I was really hoping to use this time for the three of us to talk. Why don’t you drive with us, and I’ll give you money to fill up the car tomorrow?” Her tone was polite, but there was no mistaking. She wasn’t offering me a choice.

“Be a good girl and listen to your mother,” Hank told me, flashing a perfectly straight, perfectly white smile.

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to talk at dinner. I don’t see the big deal in driving by myself,” I said.

“True, but you’re still going to have to ride with us,” Mom said. “Turns out I’m all out of cash. The new cell phone I bought you today wasn’t cheap.”

“I can’t pay for gas with your credit card?” But I already knew her answer. Unlike Vee’s mom, my mom never loaned me her credit card, and I didn’t have the moral flexibility to “borrow” it. I supposed I could have used my own money, but I’d taken a stand and I wasn’t backing down now. Before she could shoot me down, I added, “Or what about Hank? I’m sure he’ll spot me twenty dollars. Right, Hank?”

Hank tipped his head back and laughed, but I didn’t miss the lines of irritation forming around his eyes. “You’ve got quite the negotiator on your hands, Blythe. Instinct tells me she didn’t inherit your sweet, unassuming nature.”

Mom said, “Don’t be rude, Nora. Now you’re making a big deal out of nothing. Carpooling for one night isn’t going to kill you.”

I looked at Hank, hoping he could read my mind. Don’t be so sure.

“We’d better get going,” Mom said. “We have reservations for eight and don’t want to lose our table.”

Before I could roll out another argument, Hank opened the front door and motioned my mom and me out. “Ah, so that’s your car, Nora? The Volkswagen?” he asked, looking across the driveway. “Next time you’re in the market, stop by my dealership. I could have hooked you up with a convertible Celica for the same price.”

“It was a gift from a friend,” Mom explained.

Hank let out a low whistle. “That’s some friend you’ve got.”

“His name is Scott Parnell,” Mom said. “Old friend of the family.”

“Scott Parnell,” Hank mused, dragging a hand over his mouth. “The name rings a bell. Do I know his parents?”

“His mom, Lynn, lives over on Deacon Road, but Scott left town over the summer.”

“Interesting,” Hank murmured. “Any idea where he ended up?”

“Somewhere in New Hampshire. Do you know Scott?”

Hank dismissed her inquiry with a shake of his head. “New Hampshire is God’s country,” he murmured appreciatively. His voice was so smooth, it instantly grated.

Equally as irritating was the fact that he could have passed as Mom’s younger brother. Really and truly. He had facial hair, a fine scruff that covered most of his face, but where I could see, he had excellent skin tone and very few wrinkles. I’d considered the possibility that my mom would eventually start dating again, and maybe even remarry, but I wanted her husband to look distinguished. Hank Millar came off as a frat boy hiding under a shark- gray suit.

At Coopersmith’s, Hank parked in the rear lot. As we climbed out, my new cell phone chirped. I’d texted Vee my new number before leaving, and it appeared she’d received it.

BABE! I’M @ UR HOUSE. WHERE R U?

“I’ll meet you inside,” I told Mom and Hank. “Text,” I explained, jiggling my cell.

Mom sent me a black look that said, Make it fast, then took Hank’s arm and let him escort her toward the restaurant doors.

I keyed in a response to Vee.

GUESS WHERE IAM.

CLUE? she texted back.

SWEAR U WON’T TELL A SOUL?

U HAVE 2 ASK?

I reluctantly texted, @ DINNER W. MARCIE’S DAD.

#?@#$?!&

MY MOM IS DATING HIM.

TRAITOR! IF THEY GET MARRIED, U & MARCIE …

COULD USE A LITTLE CONSOLATION HERE!

DOES HE KNOW UR TEXTING ME? Vee asked.

NO. THEY R INSIDE. I’M IN THE PARKING LOT — COOPERSMITH’S.

THE PIMP. 2 GOOD 4 APPLEBEE’S, I SEE.

I’M GOING 2 ORDER THE MOST EXPENSIVE THING ON THE MENU. IF ALL GOES WELL, I’M GOING TO THROW HANK’S DRINK IN HIS FACE 2.

HA! DON’T BOTHER. I’LL COME PICK U UP. WE NEED 2 HANG OUT. BEEN 2 LONG. DYING 2 SEE U!

THIS SUCKS SO BAD! I texted back. I HAVE 2 STAY. MOM IS ON THE WARPATH.

TURNING ME DOWN?!

PAYING FAMILY DUES. CUT ME SOME SLACK.

DID I MENTION I’M DYING 2 SEE U?

ME 2. UR THE BEST, U KNOW THAT, RIGHT?

WORD.

MEET @ ENZO’S TOMORROW 4 LUNCH? NOON?

DEAL.

Hanging up, I crossed the gravel parking lot and let myself inside. The lights were dim, the decor masculine and rustic with brick walls, red leather booths, and antler chandeliers. The smell of sizzling meat overwhelmed the air, and the TVs over the bar blared the day’s sports highlights.

“My party just came in a minute ago,” I told the hostess. “The reservation is under the name Hank Millar.”

She beamed. “Yes, Hank just came in. My dad used to golf with him, so I know him really well. He’s like a second father to me. I’m sure the divorce has just devastated him, so it’s really nice to see him dating again.”

I recalled Marcie’s earlier comment that her mom had friends everywhere. I prayed Coopersmith’s wasn’t on her radar, fearing how fast news of this date might travel. “I guess it depends on who you ask,” I mumbled.