We sat for a moment in silence. The mood in the back of that car felt strangely peaceful. The silence echoed in my right ear, which was still stinging from its recent abuse.
I looked back at the house. But there was no outward sign of life. It was just a gray house. It no longer showed its true nature in any way.
I sighed again.
“We should go find Molly,” I said after a time.
“Molly, Molly, Molly.”
“But before we go get her, you have to be strapped in. Is it okay if I strap you in now?”
“Okay,” she said.
And I did, without issue.
We drove away from that house, and from that experience.
I got lost on the way back to the coffee place, which didn’t help my mood in the slightest. It took maybe twenty minutes to get back there. To finish what should have been a three-minute drive.
I had navigation, but I didn’t remember the name of the coffeehouse, and all the streets seemed to dump me where I didn’t want to be.
And then, when I finally found the place, Molly wasn’t there. It piled onto all the other elements of my morning and left me feeling as though I was living a nightmare. There seemed to be no way to break its grasp.
I sat in the car outside the coffee place for a minute or two, staring through the window. I could see every table in there. I don’t know why I thought staring longer would somehow make her appear.
It occurred to me that she might be in the restroom, so I waited. I was trying to avoid taking Etta out of her car seat again. But the waiting did not pay off.
I couldn’t just drive off without her. What could I do? I had no plan for this, and my brain was tired, and I was too upset to think clearly. It was all too much.
Finally I got out, and took Etta out of her seat, and we went inside. No Molly. We checked the restroom, but it was locked. We waited there to see who would come out.
“You need a key for it,” the young girl behind the counter called to us.
“Maybe there’s somebody in there,” I called back.
“Nope. I’ve got the key.” And she held it up for me to see, on its long strip of polished wood.
“Thanks anyway,” I said, and we walked outside.
I stood blinking in the sun. I was so utterly without a plan.
“Molly?” I called as loudly as I could. It was a long shot. But I didn’t know what else to try.
“Molly?” Etta called. With less volume, but all the volume her little lungs could muster.
It broke my heart in ways I could never describe or explain.
We stood in the sun for a few minutes more. Helpless. That was the feeling. Helpless against my life in that moment.
Then I buckled Etta back into her car seat and we started driving around. Aimless. And yet panicky at the same time. I couldn’t leave this little city without Molly. But I had no idea where to begin looking.
We started by just driving around the block.
“You tell me if you see Molly,” I said to Etta.
“Molly,” she said back to me. But not as though she saw her.
Then we drove around two blocks at once.
Why hadn’t I given her my cell phone? Of course, then I wouldn’t have had one, but I could have stopped at a pay phone, or borrowed a phone. I shook the thoughts away because they were of no use to me now.
Then for a while I just drove. Just aimlessly drove.
My gut was still buzzing with anxiety from my talk with that woman. The dark cloud that had settled over me at her doorstep had only gotten darker. And now I had lost Molly. And the panic of that fact, mixed with everything else . . . well, it was a very bad combination. I’ll leave it at that.
Finally, for lack of any better options, I drove by her mother’s house again.
“Molly!” Etta cried as soon as we turned that last corner.
But I had eyes. And I had already seen her, too.
She was sitting on the curb in front of her family’s home. Leaning on her bent knees. Elbows pressed to the new jeans I had bought her. Her head was so low as to be nearly between her knees, like a person who’s trying not to be sick. She seemed to be gazing blankly down at the pavement.
I pulled up. Reached over and swung open the passenger door. Nearly hit her with it, though I hadn’t meant to.
She looked up, and I unloaded on her.
“What the hell are you doing, Molly? Why didn’t you just stay at the coffee place? The plan was I’d come pick you up at the coffee place! You said you didn’t want to be here. So I looked every other place in town before I looked here. I’ve been driving around forever!”
Or anyway, it felt like forever.
She only blinked at me. Clearly hurt.
“Get in the car,” I barked at her.
She did.
We drove away. Back toward the interstate. I couldn’t get out of that town fast enough. When I saw the cars zipping along the highway in the distance, I felt myself breathe for what felt like the first time in a long time.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” she said.
“Then why didn’t you just stay put where I was supposed to meet you?”
“I kept running into people I knew.”
“And for that it was worth our getting separated indefinitely?”
My voice had come up to a near screech. Etta started to cry. I realized I was losing it in a big way.
I stepped on the brake and the car behind us blared its horn. I pulled over to the curb and shifted into park. In a red zone. I rested my forehead on the steering wheel and closed my eyes.
Silence reigned. Even
