Finding Abigail (3 page)

“Hey, Mom,” I
yelled, letting myself into the house I grew up in. I hung my coat on the hook
behind the door and glanced around my old living room. The space was full of
memories—the red brick fireplace that I hit my head on when I was wrestling
with my older sister Brenda. I still had the scar on my scalp from the cut
which, although tiny, had covered my whole head in blood. Apparently, I had hit
a blood vessel, causing blood to spurt out of the wound. My mother nearly
fainted at the sight of me.

A painting of
our cottage my dad built hung on the wall above the mantel. The frame had to be
repaired after my sister and I knocked it over while throwing a soccer ball in
the house.

The furniture
was new, thank God. My mother had kept our old orange, flower-patterned couch
longer than she should have. It was hideous, and it took Brenda and me buying
her a new set to get rid of it. And even then, she cried as the Salvation Army
truck towed it away. It had been a gift from my father a few months before he
died.

He passed away
suddenly of a heart attack when I was twelve. It was the hardest thing we ever
went through, and we still weren’t over it. A hole was left in our lives the
day he was taken away in the ambulance, and after fifteen years, it still
wasn’t filled. My dad was a special man. He paid attention to all of us, made
anyone he talked to feel like they mattered. Since he often worked late, he
made a point to spend time with each of us, creating different nightly rituals
with his daughters. Every night he and I would share cookies and milk while he
listened to me talk about my day. His presence still lingered here, even after
we redecorated and gave most of his things to charity.

“Is that you,
Abby?” I heard my mom yell from the kitchen, interrupting my trip down memory
lane.

“Yes,” I
answered, strolling into the kitchen. The room was filled with the aroma of
beef, spices, and the chatter of my family.

Brenda and her
husband, Jeff, were sitting at the table munching on some hors d’oeuvres.
Brenda’s kids, Justin and Haley, were piling food into their mouths. Haley
nibbled on the crackers while Justin shoveled cheese by the handful, as their
mother looked away from them and turned to me.

Justin was six
and Haley was four. They were the two cutest kids in the world and I didn’t
think that just because I was their aunt, it was the truth. They both had blond
hair and blue eyes, with a round cherub faces. Haley even had ringlets.

“It’s about
time you got here. Look at my poor children, they’re starving,” Brenda teased.
I knew she didn’t care if I was late. She was proud that I wrote books, even if
I did lose track of time writing them. She always stood up for me when my
mother gave me a hard time.

“Yeah, I can
see they’re suffering.” I laughed, pointing to Justin who had his mouth stuffed
with cheese. He looked like he was storing for the winter.

“Justin, spit
that out,” Brenda scolded. Her son did what he was told and spit the cheese
right onto the table. A pile of slimy orange goo lay on the shiny oak surface
in front of him. He glanced up at his mother and smiled, a dimple popping out
on his right cheek. “Justin Jeffery Markson, you clean that up right now.”

“
Ewww!
”
Haley whined, with her face scrunched up, nose wrinkled.

I picked the
four-year-old up, giving her a kiss on her chubby little cheek, and glanced at
the boy with the gooey face. “Hey, little man. I’d give you a kiss too, but
you’re covered in orange slime.” He was smiling wide, obviously proud of his
disgusting actions.

“Hey, Mom,” I
said, heading over to her where she was standing at the stove stirring here
famous beef stew. I gave her a peck on the cheek and put Haley down.

“Aunt Abby, can
you write a book about me?” Haley asked, tugging on my shirt.

“Haley, she’s
already written two about you. How many do you need?” her mother scolded while
wiping cheese off of the table with a wad of paper towel.

Haley
considered the question and answered seriously. “Fifteen.” The adults laughed
as Haley gazed up at me, wondering what was so funny.

“You’re late
again,” my mother remarked. She scooped out stew and divided it into bowls. I
took the one she had already filled, along with a basket of her homemade
biscuits, placing the stew in front of Jeff, and the basket in the center of
the table. Justin leaned up on his knees to grab a fresh biscuit, but quickly
withdrew when his mother slapped his hand.

“I know, but I
started a new series and it was difficult to stop. I’m sorry.” The next bowl
went to Haley, who was just sitting back down beside her father.

“There’s more
to life than work, you know. I’d be more understanding if you were late because
of a man,” my ever-meddling mother said, smirking.

“Don’t start,
Mother.” I rolled my eyes, but held back the groan.

“Yes, please,
let’s have a peaceful dinner without arguing for once.” Brenda’s tone was firm,
giving me and my mother a fierce look.

I ignored her
and picked up two more bowls of stew, handing them to her and Justin. Now that
the table was orange-slime free, I grabbed mine off the counter and sat down
between the two kids. My mother took the seat opposite me, giving me a warm
smile before scooping a spoonful of veggies and beef into her mouth. I gave her
a wink and then focused on my niece and nephew.

“How is school
going, guys?” I asked, glancing between them.

“We’re learning
about butterflies. Did you know that they come from catabillars?” Justin asked
with his mouth full.

I grinned.
“Yes, I know that cater
p
illars change into butterflies.” I emphasized
the
p
.

“That’s what I
said, catabillars. They go into this weird-looking white round fuzzy thing
called an acorn and fall asleep. And when they wake up, they come out a
butterfly. Isn’t that cool?”

Interesting
description of metamorphosis; he should be a storyteller. “Very cool, but it’s
called a cocoon.” I ruffled his hair.

His big eyes
glanced at me in confusion. “Huh?”

“It’s called a
cocoon, not an acorn.”

“That’s what I
said.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes, as if dealing with adults was
trying on his nerves.

I stared at
him, about to argue, and then decided to let it go. I turned to his mother.
“What’s new with you, Brenda?”

She was in the
process of wiping Haley’s mouth with a napkin; she balled it up and glanced at
me. “Not much. Debbie and I talked today and decided that we’re taking you out
tomorrow night. We’re going to The Cave. Remember how much fun we had last
time?”

For some reason
panic bubbled up inside me. “Are you sure? Don’t you think you should stay home
with your family? Who knows what this kid will shove in his mouth while you’re
gone.” I tapped Justin’s head. “Are you willing to risk it? Besides, you can’t
leave Jeff alone with these monsters.”

She scoffed.
“Nice try.”

“No, that’s
okay, Abby. I don’t mind. By the time you guys go out, the kids are already in
bed. And she bribed me with something to make sure I’ll get up with the kids in
the morning.” Jeff wiggled his eyebrows at his wife.

“Please, not
while I’m eating. I don’t want to know what she bribed you with. But okay, I’m
in,” I said, giving up. I took a sip of wine, knowing when I was defeated.

“Are you
serious? You’re agreeing that quickly?” Brenda asked with her eyes wide.

I pushed down
the panic, because I knew I needed some time to let loose. “Yes, I haven’t been
out in a long time, it’ll be fun.”

She grinned
widely. “Awesome, I can’t wait to have a night to myself. No offense, honey.”
She batted her eyelashes at her handsome husband.

“None taken. I
get out with the guys to play poker. You should have some time away from home
too.”

Brenda leaned
over and kissed Jeff on the lips, lingering for a few seconds. “You are the
best husband, you know that?” Now that they were starting to get all mushy, I
wasn’t sure if I was touched and envious by their loving words, or about to be
sick.

“Get a room!”
Justin yelled, staring at his parents. All the adults at the table gaped at
him. I had to cover my mouth to stifle my laughter.

“Justin! Where
did you hear that?” his mother asked, her eyes wide with shock.

“From the big
kids on the bus. Why? What does it mean?” Since I was finished eating I decided
it was time to clean up. My mother followed me. As we stuck our dishes in the
dishwasher we heard Brenda stumbling for an explanation.

“Guess what I
found in my sewing room?” my mom asked, wiping her hands on the dish towel.

“In my old
room? I have no idea. My retainer?” I closed the dishwasher, turning around to
face her. She took something out of her pocket and held up a sterling silver
necklace with a heart-shaped locket. Tears fell down my cheeks as I took the
necklace into my hand and gazed at it. The memory of my father giving it to me
flashed into my mind.
“Now remember, Abby, every time you open this locket,
you’ll see me. That way I’ll always be with you. No matter how many business
trips I go on, as long as you have this, I’ll always be close by,” my father
explained, opening the locket that was resting against my chest. I stared at
the tiny pictures of my mother in a pastel floral dress with her sandy hair up
in a bun. Tiny curls fell along the side of her pinkened cheeks. My father
looked striking in a black suit and red tie, his thick wavy brown hair brushed
smoothly. His blue eyes held humor, as if the photographer had just told a
joke.

Wrapping my
eight-year-old arms around him and rubbing his scruffy cheek against my smooth
one just to feel the tingle, I whispered, “Thank you, Daddy.”

“What is it,
can I see?” Haley screamed, bringing me back to the present.

I bent down to
show her the dainty little heart with the lace design embossed on the front.
“Isn’t it pretty? My daddy gave this to me when I was eight. He was away on
business trips a lot. So he bought your mommy and me matching necklaces to
remind us of him when he was away. I lost mine years ago, but Grandma found
it.” I opened the locket to show her the pictures inside. “See, just like
Mommy’s. There’s Grandma, and that’s Grandpa. Look how young Grandma is.” Both
kids gazed at the photo intently, then looked up at their grandmother and
smiled.

I stood up and
faced my mom. “Where was it?”

“In the corner
where your bed used to be, lodged between the wall and the carpet. I saw
something shiny this morning and bent down to investigate. I couldn’t wait to
give it to you. You were so devastated when you lost it.”

I hugged her,
holding on tightly, inhaling the familiar scent of jasmine. When I let go, I
gave her a kiss on the cheek; her skin was silky soft. “Thanks, Mom. I’m
putting it on now and never taking it off. That way I won’t lose it again.” I
put the necklace around my neck and then gave my mother another quick hug,
thankful for coming here tonight. I had lost my necklace about a year after he
died. I was afraid I would lose my memories of him if I didn’t have it on to
remind me. I knew better now, but I was still relieved to have it back.

At home that
night, I nestled into bed with a glass of wine and a movie. I fell asleep
watching a film about a single father raising a daughter on his own. After receiving
my necklace, I wanted to watch something that would remind me of my father.

The Cave

In preparation
for my night out, I only worked for a few hours. After a quick look in my
closet I decided a shopping trip was in order. I found a really cute black top
and a pair of dark blue, low-riding skinny jeans at a boutique not far from my
home. The top was a little more riskqué than I usually wore. It was a halter
style with a low neckline, showing cleavage I didn’t realize I had.

Debbie and
Brenda met me at my place. We had a few drinks as we got ready to go to the
club. Brenda looked amazing in a short sparkly silver dress, which was cut a
little high above her knee; her silky blond hair flowed down her back like
liquid honey.

Debbie went for
bold in a hot red halter like mine, and a black leather miniskirt; with her
cinnamon-colored hair curled, she looked beautiful. “Holy shit, Debbie, is your
skirt short enough?”

“I don’t know.”
She pouted, staring into my full-length mirror. “Do you think it would be too
slutty if I pulled it up?”

Since it was
almost showing her ass now, my answer was, “Definitely.”

She laughed,
and continued to brush the dark gray shadow onto her eyelids. When we looked as
good as we possibly could, it was time to go.

We traveled the
two blocks to the club on foot, through the busy, energized streets. As
darkness settled over the city, people made their way out of their residences
looking for some excitement from their everyday lives. The sidewalks were full
of couples holding hands making their way to the variety of restaurants located
down town. Teenagers loitered in the streets in groups, laughing and flirting
with each other as they looked for an adventure. A homeless man leaned against
a bench holding a paper cup. His eyes were closed, and a loud snarl came out of
his lips as we passed. I leaned down and dropped a twenty into his cup, careful
not to cringe at the sour stench that rose off of his filthy over coat. Brenda
took my hand and pulled me away from the man just as his eyes flitted open.