Stolen (6 page)

Me:
That sounds better. I
love you! I’ll see you soon! Sweet dreams, lover ;)

Rogan:
Say it again. I
love the way that sounds in my head of you saying it.

Me:
Goodnight, lover!
See you at 9.

I set the alarm on my phone for 8:15, lay my phone on
my nightstand, and crawl under the sheets. I guess I was tired after all. I
don’t remember falling asleep, but now the alarm is nagging me to get my ass
out of bed. At first, I want to chuck it across the room, but then I remember
why it’s set in the first place, and suddenly I can’t get out of bed fast
enough.

I fling my magenta pink cotton sheets to the end of
the bed and run straight to the bathroom. As much as I don’t want to, I
reluctantly get into the shower. By 8:45 I’ve showered, put my wet hair into a
loose bun—it’ll dry just fine without any help from me—and am dressed in my
favorite low cut jeans that Rogan loves and a baby blue tank top that hugs me
in all the right places.

I run down stairs and find mom and Cass eating
breakfast at the kitchen island. They stop talking when they see me; Cass
doesn’t look up from her bowl of cereal, and mom looks like she’s been crying.
What’s going on?

“Mom, are you okay? Have you been crying?” I look back
toward Cass, but she’s still absorbedly staring into her cereal bowl. She’s
never like this with me. What happened? I look back to mom.

“It’s nothing really, sweetie.” She forces a smile and
makes to get up, but I push her back down by the shoulders.

“Don’t lie to me, please; just tell me what it is?” I
know I’m begging, but this can’t be good if Cass is ignoring me.

The doorbell rings and I know it’s Rogan. I had
unlocked the door before I came into the kitchen, so I call for him to come in,
yelling that it’s open. I hear the door open and shut, then I feel his body directly
behind me and his hand on the small of my back. My heart is beating
frantically, but not because of his touch this time.

Mom looks up and toward Rogan and smiles, but he
doesn’t get any better of a smile than I just had and he notices, too. He glances
to me and his brow is furrowed. I shrug in answer to his non-verbal question. I
have no more an idea of what’s wrong than he does.

“I didn’t realize you’d be going out this morning,”
mom says. “So, how about you two get out of here and have fun? We can talk
later if you want. Right now isn’t such a good time anyway. Cassie and I are
going to the mall for a little while, and I’m not sure how long we’ll be gone.”

She doesn’t give me a chance to form a rebuttal. She
and Cass are out the door, leaving Rogan and me standing in the kitchen
completely perplexed as to what just happened, neither of us knowing what to do
about it.

After a few awkward moments standing in the kitchen
waiting for it to give us the answers we’re looking for, but coming up empty, we
decide we might as well eat instead of standing here waiting for something to
happen that isn’t going to be happening anytime soon.

When we get back from an admittedly hurried breakfast,
the house is still empty. I know mom said they’d be a while, but I was hoping
she was lying, not expecting Rogan and me to come back early if we thought they
wouldn’t be here.

I guess she wasn’t lying.

Rogan stays with me until his mom calls to tell him
she’d like to see her son for at least one meal over the weekend. I smile,
knowing that I monopolize him from her, and tell him to get out and spend time
with his mom and that I’ll text him later when/if I find anything out. We say
our ‘I love yous’ and after he leaves I resume sitting on the soft, dark brown
leather couch in the family room waiting for my family to come home.

Seven hours later, and a few texts to Rogan telling
him I had no answers yet since no one was home, the front door opens. I jump
from the sofa and run to the door, expecting both mom and Cass, but instead
only see Cass standing there looking exhausted and frail. I look for mom behind
her, but there’s no one, then Cass closes the door. Why would she close the
door on mom like that? Unless mom’s not with her?

“Cass, you look sick. What happened? And where’s mom?”

My head is pounding from the day of waiting and
freaking myself out with all the different scenarios as to what could be
happening, but seeing her in front of me now is only making the pounding worse.
I see no relief in sight, but I’ll be damned if I don’t get some answers and
soon.

“Mom will be back soon,” she says softly and
exhaustedly while stepping onto the first step of the stairs up to her bedroom.

 I grab her arm gently, trying to get her to look
at me but her posture stiffens, and her face continues looking forward. “Cass,
please. Please . . .” I quietly beg her as if she’s a scared bird I don’t want
to frighten away, but it’s no use.

“Jess, let this go until mom gets home,” she huffs and
breaks free of my grasp. Her door is slammed shut in less time than it takes me
to fully process that she’s out of my reach.

Whatever is happening is clearly upsetting her, and as
much as I’m dying to know what it is, I can tell she’s been through enough
today that I don’t want to add to her pain.

I’ll wait for mom.

Another three hours and mom walks through the door. I
didn’t think anyone could look worse than Cass had when she got home, but I was
mistaken. Her eyes are sunken in and dark circles have formed all around them.
Her face looks pale, which is making her dark circles seem even darker, and her
shoulders are slumped inward as if she has just ran a marathon and is too
exhausted to hold them up. She looks like she’s going to collapse, and it’s
scaring the hell out of me.

I run to her and throw my arms around her neck,
grabbing hold as if she’s my life preserver, when in reality right now I’m
probably hers.

She begins quietly sniffling, clearly trying not to
lose control and sob, but there’s no control left; the sobs come and her body
shakes violently against me. She’s leaning all her weight into me, and I can’t
hold us both up any more. I pull us to the steps of the stairwell and glide us
down so we can both avoid falling flat onto the hard tile floor.

She doesn’t stop crying, doesn’t seem to notice we’re
sitting down now, doesn’t seem to notice it’s me she’s holding. She’s mumbling
things like “I can’t believe this is happening.” “Why my baby?” I can tell
she’s not asking me these questions. I think she’s asking the Cosmos to give
them to her, as if that will be the only way to get the ones she wants.

 I’m on the verge of tears myself. I’ve never
seen her like this, and I don’t know what to do; she’s always the strong one.
I’ve always been mature, but the real responsibilities in this house belong to
her. Between volleyball practice, games, Rogan, my friends, and of course,
keeping an eye on Cass, I never cook dinner nor help out much with the laundry,
which at this moment I feel horrible for. I know this isn’t about whether I
wash the clothes or do the dishes, but that’s the only thing I feel in control
of right now that I can change to help her out, and I plan to start tomorrow.

Her sobs quiet, and I wait for her to explain what has
happened, but when I hear soft breaths and feel the air on my throat, I know
she has fallen asleep. We’re sitting on the steps, she’s just balled her eyes
out to me, and she hasn’t answered any of my burning questions and now she
sleeps? I guess I won’t be getting any answers from her tonight. Now the
question is how to get her up the stairs to her room. I look up the seemingly
impossible span of stairs, then to my right, seeing the family room sofa; it’s
only a few feet away.

I stand her up. She barely mumbles recognition at the
movement, then we stumble our way over to the sofa. I lay her down, take off
her shoes, and cover her with the tan fleece blanket draped over the back of
the sofa. She curls into it and falls into a dead sleep. I stand looking down
at her, at the woman who has been the strongest person I’ve ever known, my
rock, and now she looks like the weakest.

I can’t stomach leaving her here alone so I settle
into the loveseat across from her and try to rest my eyes, but my thoughts and
fears won’t shut up. I pull my phone from my pocket and text Rogan. I have
nothing to report, since I don’t know anything myself, but I know he’s worried.

Me:
Mom just got home.
She’s passed out on the sofa. She didn’t tell me anything, just started crying
as soon as she walked in the door. Hopefully I’ll know what’s up tomorrow. I’ll
text you when I do. I love you and I miss you so much. Something is really
wrong and I’m so scared.

Rogan:
Whatever it is
I’ll be there for you. I love you 2. Get some sleep. Will I see you at school
tomorrow?

Me:
No way, I’m staying here
until I get some answers.

Rogan:
Ok. Keep me
posted. I love you. Good night babe.

I tuck my phone back into my pocket and lie on my back
staring at the ceiling, asking the Cosmos my own set of questions; they don’t
give me any answers either.

Every time I hear a noise, I look to mom. When I see
she’s fine I listen for noises upstairs. It must be Cass, then I close my eyes
again. Another noise, repeat process. Eyes open, ears focused, and mind racing.
Nothing. Close eyes again.

At first light, I stop closing my eyes. I turn on my
side and watch and wait for mom to wake. According to the time on the cable
box, it’s 8:21 when she starts to stir, 8:49 when her eyes first open, 9:03
when she’s fully awake and alert, seeing me staring at her.

She jumps up into a sitting position and rubs at her
eyes, smudging what’s left of her mascara all over her face. She blinks rapidly
at me as if she isn’t sure I’m sitting in front of her. I’ve mirrored her
position and am now sitting facing her as well. We stare at each other, neither
saying a word.

I’m the first to break the silence. “Mom, what hap—“

“Are you hungry, honey? It must be late.” She glances
at the clock, 9:15; throws the blanket off her and heads toward the kitchen.
“I’ll make some breakfast.”

I follow on her tail, not wanting to let her out of my
sight. She’s making such a ruckus with the way she’s pulling pots and pans out
from cabinets and opening and closing the refrigerator. I have no idea what
she’s planning to cook, but she uses fewer pans at Thanksgiving than she is
right now for a breakfast.

She stops, with one hand on a skillet handle, sets it
on the counter, and runs up the stairs. I yell after her, but her door slams
shut and I hear the shower in her bathroom start to run. I let her be. I let
everyone be.

I don’t know what’s happening or why they don’t want
me to know, but it’s starting to hurt being left out like this. Maybe I did
something wrong and they’re mad at me or ashamed of me? Maybe they know what
Rogan and I did the other night and they hate me for it. That seems like an
extreme reaction to my boyfriend of one year and I having sex for the first
time. I quickly dismiss that ridiculous thought.

My phone vibrates.

Rogan:
Any news?

Me:
No. Mom just woke up a
little while ago then went crazy in the kitchen with the pots and pans, then
ran up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door shut. I have NO idea what the
hell is going on here. I know Cass is up. I can hear her moving in her room,
but she still hasn’t come down to see me or left for school. It’s as if they
are avoiding me. Do you think I did something wrong and they don’t want to tell
me?

Rogan:
I kinda doubt
that. What could you have done? Do you want me to come over?

Me:
I really do, but I don’t
think that’s a good idea right now. I don’t know how I’m going to get them to
talk, but I don’t think it will help to have you here when I try. Look at how
my mom kicked us both out yesterday. Whatever this is, I have to do it on my
own. I miss you so bad :(

Rogan:
I’m only a text
or call away if you change your mind. I love you so much. I’m going crazy here
not knowing what’s happening and not being able to do anything about it.

Me:
Well, I am here and I
don’t know any more than you do. They’ve never left me in the cold like this!
The doorbell just rang. I g2g I’ll ttys. I love you!

I walk to the front door, and it may be my
imagination, but I swear that everything in the house has gone quiet. When I
open it, a man in his forties maybe, with grayish colored eyes, deep brown hair
worn slightly long, broad shoulders and solid physique, dressed in black dress
pants and a grey dress shirt is standing in front of me.

I’m staring, waiting for him to tell me who he is and
what he wants. He smiles and says I must be Jessica. He extends his hand to me,
but I don’t return the greeting. Just because he knows my name, and not the
name I go by, by the way, doesn’t mean I have to be nice to this stranger.

He obviously notices my prickly demeanor and tries a
new approach.