in the yard is piling up.
I shake my head and head to the house next door to it. I spot my mom wearing a hot-red polka-dotted dress standing at the door. She pushes it open when she sees us, and I wonder how she knew we were coming.
When we get in the door, she eyes us down like we stole something. Our old living area’s huge and spacious with a leather couch and rug. There’s no TV. She continues to stare up at us, tapping her foot on the hardwood floor. “What happened now?” she asks.
“We can’t find Jessica. We think she’s in trouble, and we were wondering if she came here,” Malcolm says. We watch our mother’s facial expression go from skeptical to fearful.
She puts her hands on her hips. “What do you mean you can’t find her? Ain’t she living with Chris or whatever his name is?”
I blow out a breath at the mention of his name. “She’s not now. We just need to find her, and we came here.”
“Why the hell haven’t y’all called the police?” she shouts, throwing her hands in the air.
“We’re going to, but we figured we’d search all the basic areas first,” Malcolm answers.
“I think you should call them now.”
“If we don’t find her by tonight we will, Mom. I promise. You know we wouldn’t jeopardize her safety,” Malcolm says.
Mom covers her face in her hands and says a prayer. When she’s finished, she stares at us with watery eyes.
“I just don’t understand how this could happen. How could she be missing? How long has she been gone? Why was I the last to know?”
Malcolm grips her shoulders and embraces her in a hug. He holds her closely. “I mean, have you tried calling her? Oh, I can’t stand this,” Mom says, crying into Malcolm’s shoulder. “I remember when she was just a little girl. You guys would all play around in the backyard when y’all was eight years old. She would come here and eat ’cause her grandmother, rest her soul, couldn’t always cook.”
“I know, Mom, I know,” Malcolm says, rubbing her back.
I turn around and leave. I can’t take it anymore. I walk across the yard and pull down one of the weak boards off the window. I climb through the window and land into Grandma Mae’s old kitchen. Everything is gone. There isn’t any stove, countertops, fridge, or light. The only light I have now is the twilight shining through the hole in the window.
I take a deep breath and start to walk toward Jessica’s old bedroom down the hall. I know the place better than I’d like to admit, and, light or no light, I keep walking. When I reach the hallway it’s completely dark, and I can hear the sounds of rats scurrying about. I push open her door and use my cell phone light to scan her room. It’s too small for a young lady to grow up in, but Jessica made the best of it. The walls are pink and white with dents from furniture scraping up against them. The floor’s carpet feels like a pile of mush beneath my feet due to rat droppings and something else.
I think about the time I first came in this room to play Legos with her when I was eight. I hated it because the room was so small, and I was very claustrophobic. I would sit by the doorway with the door wide open, and she’d sit in front of me while we played, smiling the whole time while I frowned and complained about the room size. She was just so tolerable.
“Hey,” Malcolm says from behind me, patting my shoulder. “We gotta go. She’s not here.”
The sun has gone down completely by the time we make it back to Chicago. Malcolm glances over at me as he drives and tries to lighten the mood. “Maybe she went back to my place. She went there before, so she might be there now.” He smiles. “We probably just missed her.”
“If we just missed her, then that would mean she ain’t gon’ be there,” I say, staring straight ahead.
“I mean, we can go there and check around the neighborhood, you know. We should have done that first,” he says with new energy.
We
I shake my head and head to the house next door to it. I spot my mom wearing a hot-red polka-dotted dress standing at the door. She pushes it open when she sees us, and I wonder how she knew we were coming.
When we get in the door, she eyes us down like we stole something. Our old living area’s huge and spacious with a leather couch and rug. There’s no TV. She continues to stare up at us, tapping her foot on the hardwood floor. “What happened now?” she asks.
“We can’t find Jessica. We think she’s in trouble, and we were wondering if she came here,” Malcolm says. We watch our mother’s facial expression go from skeptical to fearful.
She puts her hands on her hips. “What do you mean you can’t find her? Ain’t she living with Chris or whatever his name is?”
I blow out a breath at the mention of his name. “She’s not now. We just need to find her, and we came here.”
“Why the hell haven’t y’all called the police?” she shouts, throwing her hands in the air.
“We’re going to, but we figured we’d search all the basic areas first,” Malcolm answers.
“I think you should call them now.”
“If we don’t find her by tonight we will, Mom. I promise. You know we wouldn’t jeopardize her safety,” Malcolm says.
Mom covers her face in her hands and says a prayer. When she’s finished, she stares at us with watery eyes.
“I just don’t understand how this could happen. How could she be missing? How long has she been gone? Why was I the last to know?”
Malcolm grips her shoulders and embraces her in a hug. He holds her closely. “I mean, have you tried calling her? Oh, I can’t stand this,” Mom says, crying into Malcolm’s shoulder. “I remember when she was just a little girl. You guys would all play around in the backyard when y’all was eight years old. She would come here and eat ’cause her grandmother, rest her soul, couldn’t always cook.”
“I know, Mom, I know,” Malcolm says, rubbing her back.
I turn around and leave. I can’t take it anymore. I walk across the yard and pull down one of the weak boards off the window. I climb through the window and land into Grandma Mae’s old kitchen. Everything is gone. There isn’t any stove, countertops, fridge, or light. The only light I have now is the twilight shining through the hole in the window.
I take a deep breath and start to walk toward Jessica’s old bedroom down the hall. I know the place better than I’d like to admit, and, light or no light, I keep walking. When I reach the hallway it’s completely dark, and I can hear the sounds of rats scurrying about. I push open her door and use my cell phone light to scan her room. It’s too small for a young lady to grow up in, but Jessica made the best of it. The walls are pink and white with dents from furniture scraping up against them. The floor’s carpet feels like a pile of mush beneath my feet due to rat droppings and something else.
I think about the time I first came in this room to play Legos with her when I was eight. I hated it because the room was so small, and I was very claustrophobic. I would sit by the doorway with the door wide open, and she’d sit in front of me while we played, smiling the whole time while I frowned and complained about the room size. She was just so tolerable.
“Hey,” Malcolm says from behind me, patting my shoulder. “We gotta go. She’s not here.”
The sun has gone down completely by the time we make it back to Chicago. Malcolm glances over at me as he drives and tries to lighten the mood. “Maybe she went back to my place. She went there before, so she might be there now.” He smiles. “We probably just missed her.”
“If we just missed her, then that would mean she ain’t gon’ be there,” I say, staring straight ahead.
“I mean, we can go there and check around the neighborhood, you know. We should have done that first,” he says with new energy.
We
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