Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
She looks up and off to the side as if she's really giving it some thought, but she drops her eyes back down to her glass of whiskey before saying another word.
Have I been so out of touch with what's going on around here that I've missed what's going on with her?
And then it dawns on me. "Where's Petal?"
I haven't seen the cat since Eddie came to the house and that was days ago. I've never worried about her since Faye has always taken care of her.
Her chin begins to quiver, making my stomach turn.
"The man came and said she was gone," she whispers, pulling her frail hand up to her face to swipe at tears.
I choke down the emotion in my throat and give her as kind a smile as I can manage. The man came and told us about Sadie, not the cat.
"I'll look for her," I assure her.
"Thank you, dear. I just know you'll miss her as much as I always have when she isn't home."
Yep, this is about Sadie.
"I'm going to head to the store," I tell her, putting the salad ingredients back in the fridge.
Faye is two glasses deep into her whiskey and I know she isn't going to be interested in food, and I need some time to myself. Grocery shopping seems like the perfect thing I can use as a distraction. Plus, the boys will be back next week for Sadie's memorial, and I'll need to stock up on their favorite things. I've found that food is always comforting, and I frown with the thought knowing that the extra ten pounds on my hips I keep losing and regaining come from eating my emotions.
I take a detour at the top of the stairs and open Faye's room, calling out quietly for the cat, but she doesn't come to me, and I don't hear one of her meows either.
I back out of the room and go to my bedroom, opening the doors in the hallway along the way in case the cat somehow got stuck in one of the other rooms which has been known to happen. She'll turn up eventually. I didn't even think to look at her favorite spot on the sofa on the way up. It's possible she's there and I'm wasting my time.
I'd like to blame Eddie and the distraction he provided that prevented me from seeing how much Faye has been struggling, but I know better. I know she had to have been having memory problems for a while to have gotten this bad.
I close myself into my room and fire off a text to Chris. Other than the text that he made it back to campus safely two days ago, I haven't heard from him.
William assured me that he had informed him about the memorial service plans.
Me: Wanted to see if you could come home for dinner.
I wait for his response, but when it doesn't come quickly, I shove my phone in my purse wondering if I shouldn't have Faye come with me to the store.
When I make it back downstairs, I check the den for Petal. I don't find the missing cat, but I do find Faye on the couch with her head pointing to the ceiling, snoring.
I don't feel guilty leaving her there, knowing she'll probably nap the day away.
I make my way out of the back door, so I can get my car from the garage. Just as Eddie had promised when we flew back to Columbia rather than flying back into DC, my car was waiting for me outside. I haven't been in it since Faye and I left to go shopping for dinner while ICE put cameras up in my house.
I took them down not long after that man came and told us about Sadie, but I've walked around the house wondering if they put in cameras that I don't know about.
I imagine Eddie having a tracker on my car, and that's how he was able to meet me in the lobby of my hotel that second trip I took to DC recently, so I drive slowly, giving him the opportunity to predict where I'm going, thinking maybe he's still around town and will just happen to run into me.
I know it's silly to think such things. The man is done with the case and done with me.
I swallow down the pain that thought brings.
I have so many important things to worry about and a man not wanting me the way I want him shouldn't be so high on my list of concerns.
My phone buzzes, and my car radio asks me if I want the text read aloud. When I confirm, I frown.
Christopher: I'm on campus and have plans. Sorry.
I hate that it's a text response and not a voice memo because I can't tell where he's emotionally at through text. I just have to trust that he's doing okay and will reach out for help if he needs it before the memorial.