(Eighteen)
Rosalie stands when I burst through the door. Her colors have drained, washed away by today's shitstorm. Her skin matches the gray walls of the waiting room, and her lips are drawn and thin. She attempts a smile, but her lips quiver, a balancing act to stop her tears falling.
The heat inside the station has me ripping off my jacket within seconds, sweat pooling at my collar. "Has there been any news?" I ask as she collapses back into one of the worn-out chairs that line the waiting room.
"No, nothing." It's then that I realize she's with the guy beside her. The guy holding her hand. The one who looks like a cookie-cutter version of Em in a terrible suit. His tie is the most colorful thing in the room. A blue, green, red, purple geometric mess that makes my eyes hurt. He stands and holds out his hand. A good firm handshake. "I'm Eric. Thanks for coming down. Rosie is … we're very worried."
My initial reaction is I want to punch him, defend Em and bring him down a peg or two, but I see how he takes her hand as he sits back down beside her. The way she looks at him like he's going to sort it all out. Hold her together. I keep quiet.
Only then, she looks at me in the same way. It makes my neck itch and I have to look away. She'll learn soon enough who I am. I take in my bearings, it reeks of cheap, burnt coffee and disappointment. "Are you waiting to speak to someone? What are they doing?"
"We have, but they're not doing anything. They're not interested, because he hasn't been missing for 24 hours yet." She starts to cry, again Eric comforts her. I'm really trying not to hate him.
He continues for her, "They said we can file a missing person's report, but that's all for now."
It's not that I don't believe them, but I try to get a different answer from the front desk all the same. The receptionist tells me exactly what I already know. There's nothing we can do unless he poses a risk to himself or others. Falling off the wagon doesn't count.
I head back over and shake my head. If it's possible, Rosalie's face folds in on itself even more.
"What happened last night?" I ask, finding an empty seat across from them. I'm impatient. I want to race out the door. To do something. But trying to find him when he doesn't want to be found is impossible. I might know some of his tricks, but I'm no magician.
Eric stands and pulls on his coat. "I'm going to get us some coffee that doesn't taste like sewage. Can I get you something?" he asks, despite the fact they've already got half-empty cups from the place across the street. I give him credit for this. Whatever happened will be difficult for them both.
"No, I'm good, thanks." He leaves us with space to talk.
Rose looks exhausted. I feel fear radiating off her. "I told you I was here this morning. I think he called me collect."
She scrubs her hand across her face, makeup is smeared under her eyes, her blonde hair scraped off her face. It makes her look older than she is. Worry pinches her features, but she's beautiful despite it all. She fits perfectly with Em. The image I should have in my mind anyway—hosting some kind of party for responsible adults, smiling with their arms around each other, offering entrees and cocktails. Not this clusterfuck I'm witnessing today. I tell myself this is a blip. That I'll find him and sort it all out.
"He was arrested for a DUI." Fresh tears trail black down her cheeks. "He's been sober for almost five years. Five fucking years. How could he do that?" She stands up and rips some tissues from a box left on the side.
"Did something happen before that?"
She starts to tear pieces off the tissue as she speaks. "I've been dating Eric for almost a year and … well, we talked about moving in together and decided it was what we wanted. So, I thought I'd better run it past Em before we told the kids." Her eyes are wide and asking for me to reassure her, so I nod and mutter things about doing things the right way. "I invited him over for dinner, just with me. The kids stayed with friends and Eric was working … I thought I should tell him face-to-face, I knew he'd be upset.
No shit is all I think, but I nod again, already seeing where the story is going.
"Well, I think Em had different ideas. He was so happy and back to his normal self … " She blushes, stark against her pale skin. A phantom smile brushes past her lips. "He was flirting and I …" Then she bites her lips and looks up at me. "He kissed me. And I let him … for a second. I miss him so much. I still … I love him so fucking much … I just can't do this anymore."
"He got the wrong message?" I try and make it easier for her.
"Yes, and he didn't understand what I was saying. About Eric. He'd got it into his head that I was doing it to make him jealous, but that's not true. Eric, he's a good guy. He's what I need." She sits a little straighter when she says this, like she's affirming it to herself. Like she doesn't quite believe it. "He didn't get it, said he didn't think it was serious. When I told him that it was … he was furious. I couldn't stop him from leaving." She shrugs and sags back into her chair. "I guess he went and got messed up." She laughs, and it's the most painful laugh I think I've ever heard. Raw and grating. "Well, you know what happened next."
"But this was before the DUI? You saw him this morning?"
"Because I'm an idiot, and I couldn't bear him being here." She waves her hand around the barren station, its walls held up with bad vibes. "I reminded him that he'd broken the terms of our custody arrangements. He thought I'd let it go."
"Oh fuck, Rose." I can't stop myself. The implications of this are a knife and my hopes of finding him deflate, slashed seven ways.
She starts to cry properly now. "I told him he couldn't see them until he'd sorted his shit out. I said he'd never see them again if he didn't." She can barely get her words out. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said it … I was so angry with him."
I feel sick, a clammy cold sweat is working its way up my back. My mouth is like sandpaper. How could she not know what that would do to him? I thought this would be a case of rooting Em out from whatever bar or pair of tits he'd buried himself in, but now I feel fucking scared. I should recognize that I'm watching a reflection of my own behavior, but I choose to turn away and focus on now.
I try to understand her. Why she's protecting her girls, herself. Cutting Em off. It's survival 101, and I do understand her. But it still hurts like hell to imagine the pain he must be in. For once, I consider what it must have been like for my family, so I take her hand. "You did what you had to do." And then I lie to her. "He'll be okay."
It calms her enough to start to plan.
"Where should we start to look for him?" I ask as if we don't live in a city with over half a million people in it.
"I've tried everywhere I can think. Do you have any ideas? I don't know as much about what he's been doing these past few years."
I blow out a puff of air, my fingers itching for a smoke to help me think. "You called round his other friends, his family?"
"No one's heard from him, and he would never go to his family. They were … less than understanding." Her blue eyes spark, fiercely protective, giving me a clue as to why, for someone whose life has been ruined by addiction, she's still chasing gutters trying to pull him out. She loves him, there's no doubt, but she's trying to love herself more. I see Alice in her. I hate myself in parallel.
"Have you tried motels, places he liked to hang out?' I don't catch myself quick enough to stop the next option, "Hospitals?"
She flinches, but nods slowly, like the action might crack her into a million pieces if she fully commits to it. "I'll call them."
"I can, if you'd like?" The thought of her trying to find out if he's alive, injured, dead, seems too much. But again, I made my family do it over and over. I'm a fucking hypocrite.
"No. I better do it. I don't think they'd release details to anyone but family anyway." She grabs her phone, their kids' smiling faces flash up on the screen before she swipes to unlock it. I feel like someone's thumped me in the chest. What the fuck, Em, where are you?
"I'm going to drive around town. See if I can find him. Let me know if you hear anything."
I say the same to Eric as he appears with steaming cups, handing me one.
"I know you said you didn't want one, but I thought you'd appreciate it later."
I thank him despite the fact I hate the stuff, because he's right. I'd better fill my veins with caffeine before they're hollow with the need for something stronger.
I head out into the city. Tracing my own path of downward spiral to see if I can find Em caught up in the same drag before it's too late. Ironic if it wasn't so fucking terrifying.
AN: You guys keep me going. Thank you SO much for all the love for this story. I know it's tough and I appreciate you being here with me.
Huge thanks for Layathomemom for rec'ing ACOY in TLS this week. She's fab.
Also, for those of you who love Bunny and Fluff and might not have got an alert ... Choc and I have updated The Art of Getting Fluffed! (Ffn was being awkward and didn't want to share Bunny, clearly.)
And, also also, my fav Honeybee Meadows is now posting her amazing story Grim & Darling to FFn for us all to read. Don't miss this one, it's something special. (In my favs.)
I also wanted to mention my Choc (aka Carrie Elks). Today was the UK paperback release date of her book Fix You. I'm sure you all read it when she posted it here. I'm so proud of her and will likely scream when I come across it in a bookstore. If you've not read it, you really, really should.
I'll be quiet now. See you soon. Kisses.
Sparrow xx
(Choc, Kim and Cat. All my words are for you. Always.)