Page 40 of Home Is Where the Bodies Are

Nicole’s eyes well up. “You give up on people so easily.”

I know she’s not talking about Dad.

Before I can respond and yell at her and ask her how dare she say something like that to me, Michael walks into the living room with his laptop in hand. I was the one that was there for Nicole. I gave her money. I gave her food. I gave her clothes. And I gave her a place to stay until I couldn’t trust sleeping under the same roof as her anymore.

He pauses for a moment. “Am I interrupting something?”

I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head.

“No, just see if you can find out where the email was sent from,” Nicole says.

Michael takes a seat and flips open his laptop. “Forward the email to me,” he says, and then he rattles off his email address.

Nicole presses several buttons on my phone. “Done.” She tosses it back to me. Her eyes have lost their sheen and are now clouded with a mix of anger and hope. The former directed at me.

The problem with Nicole is she doesn’t remember the past seven or so years. For her, it’s like Dad left yesterday because her addiction has stolen so many of her memories. I noticed it first... the addiction. She was prescribed oxycodone after getting into a car accident back in 2015. The sad thing is, she was driving around looking for Dad when it happened. Another car T-boned her, leaving her in critical condition, and she spent nearly a year healing via meds, physical therapy, and hope. But when the pain finally went away, the addiction took its place. She convinced the doctor her body still needed the meds, but really it was her brain that craved them.

Michael’s fingers are fast and furious as they tap against the keyboard. I’m sure Nicole and I have melted away as he’s laser-focused on his computer screen. Nicole stares, waiting for the answer to the question she’s been asking herself for years.Where’s Dad?

“Got it,” Michael finally says, lifting his head.

“Where is he?” Nicole asks. She’s ready to run out the door and find our missing father.

“Juda, Wisconsin. About an hour west of here.”

“Can you tell exactly where he sent it from?” Her eyes seem to brighten.

“Not always, but I pulled the latitude and longitude for the IP address and cross-checked it with Google Maps; there’s only one house within a three-mile radius, so it’s gotta be that one, and it was sent via a private internet connection.”

Nicole tilts her head. “What’s that mean?”

“Meaning he wasn’t at a Starbucks or a library or some other business.”

“Let’s go then. Let’s find him.” She smiles, like Dad’s location is “X marks the spot” on a treasure map. I feel so sorry for her. Even if she finds him, finds exactly what she’s looking for, he won’t be the father she remembers. He just can’t be.

Michael looks to me. I think he’s expecting me to be on board, to jump for joy like Nicole practically is, but I’m not. Dad has disappointed me far too many times, and I can’t do it anymore.

“I’m not going,” I say.

Her smile fades and a scowl replaces it. “What do you mean you’re not going?”

“I mean I’m not going.”

“Don’t you want to find him?” Nicole eyes me cautiously.

“No, I don’t.”

“Why?” she asks.

“I just don’t.” I’m not going to explain myself to her because she wouldn’t understand anyway.

She shakes her head, as if I’ll change my mind and jump up and join her, but I won’t. I lost everything looking for him. Even though there’s nothing else for me to lose, I’m not willing to gamble it for a sliver of hope. She looks to Michael. He raises his shoulders slightly and drops them, a weak shrug.

“Michael?” she says. Her voice is meek and soft.

He closes his laptop, pausing before he answers. I don’t think either of us know what he’s going to say. He’s always held his cards close. “All right, I’ll drive.”

Her lips curve into a smile, and she bolts toward the front door. It brings me back to when we were kids and Mom would call out, “Dad’s home,” on Friday nights. We’d be so excited, and we’d all come running to greet him. Only one of us is running to him now, and that’s only because she’s running away from everything else.

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