Page 13 of His to Save

His eyes light. “Have you tried calling Nora?”

It’s not a bad idea, except… “I don’t have her number.” I slump back.

“Shit.” He begins pacing back and forth in front of the sink. “Your dad’s always been…out there…but he’s never gone fully off the grid before, right?”

“Nah. Things were dicey for a while after Mom died, what with his drinking. But once your old man got him into AA, he was okay-ish.”

“Maybe he’s taking Grace’s death hard?”

“Could be,” I agree, even though I actually don’t. Call it a gut feeling or instinct, I don’t know, but something tells me it’s more than him mourning the loss of his second wife.

Maybe it’s my imagination running wild, but I have a bad feeling about all of this, and no matter what I do, I can’t seem to shake it.

Ellis turns and stalks into what should be our dining room but is mostly a store-all space, heading for his safe in the corner. He punches in the code, swings open the heavy door, and grabs his duty belt, securing it around his waist.

“I’ve gotta go, but I’ll stop by and check on him once I sign on.”

“Appreciate it, man,” I tell him, meaning it with every fiber of my being. We’ve been friends since we were in diapers, waded through thick and thin together, and I’d easily give my left nut to help him if he was ever in a pinch—the fact that I know he’d do the same is just icing on the cake.

He claps my back as he passes me on his way to the door. “I’ll let you know if anything comes of it.”

I tip my chin in acknowledgment, already worrying over what he may or may not find.

Every part of me wants to continue scouring Nora’s diary for some sort of clue. It feels like everything—my mom’s death, Grace’s death, Dad’s radio silence, Nora’s diary—is stacking up like a precariously balanced house of cards. All it would take is one strong blow to send it all crashing down. I just hope I’m able to pick up all of the pieces once they scatter.

Resigned, I force myself up off my stool for another cup of coffee, hoping maybe some more caffeine will kick my brain online.

DIARY ENTRY, AGE 14

Dear Diary,

Mom’s seeing someone. She thinks she’s sneaky and that I’m clueless, but it’s like Dad used to say, I wasn’t born yesterday. She’s been happy and smiling and most telling of all—busy.

She went from only going to work and the grocery store to having plans. Friday night drinks, Saturday lunches, and Sunday brunches. We used to spend our weekends together, as a family, and now I spend them alone.

Which is fine, I guess. It’s not like I’m great company. Maybe Mom doesn’t like sad girls, either.

As much as I want to be mad at her, I’m not. It’s nice to see her smile again. I just wish she’d be honest with me. I’m not a little kid, but she and Ms. Maggie think I’m “emotionally fragile,” which is the freaking dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.

Am I supposed to be all happy and laughy and smiley less than a year after my dad died? It’s funny how it went from “grief isn’t logical” to me being “emotionally fragile.”

But whatever.

I guess she’ll tell me when she’s ready.

Irritated, Nora

Dear Diary,

Mama’s gone again. For the weekend this time. She asked if I could stay with a friend so she could go for a girls’ weekend. I told her yes even though we both know I don’t have any friends.

I guess she doesn’t remember…or is choosing not to.

Luckily, I have a key to the house and the fridge is stocked, so I guess I have the place to myself all weekend.

If my life was a movie or a TV show, I’d throw a big party and everyone would come. It would be some big turning point, and I’d either end up in the cool crowd or a whole heap of trouble.

But it’s not, so I don’t.

---