Hello! Sorry this chapter took a wee bit longer than I intended. :( But here it is anyway!
And just because I'm too much of a fangirl to let this go unsaid, happy birthday to John Lennon. John, you were full of awesome and the world is definitely less good without you.
John Lennon is kind of my idol by the way…just in case you couldn't tell.
Also, what is it with me always putting cool old ladies in my stories? Hopefully Ana lives up to the success of her predecessors, Grandma Benson and Moira.
Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly, but Irene and Ana are mine.
"The number you are trying to reach is not available. Please leave a message af-"
I ended the call as, for the fourth time, Sam didn't pick up. I'd already left her three voicemail messages and several texts, and I figured leaving another wouldn't do any good. Wrapping my free arm around the arm holding my phone and flattening myself even more against the cool concrete restaurant, I scrolled through my contacts.
There was Triple E; I'd already tried them in between my phone calls to Sam though, and they said they wouldn't tow during a tornado watch. I could always call Spencer, but I hadn't exactly told him about my little trip with Sam. He was spending the weekend camping with Socko and Socko's grandmother, and I was supposed to be under the watchful eye of Mrs. Benson across the hall…only I convinced her that Spencer's trip was cancelled and that she didn't need to look after me after all. It seemed like a good plan at the time, but now, standing under the small overlap of the roof of the tiny taco place, I wished that I had just tried to convince Spencer to take us to San Francisco. Then there was Grandad, but Yakima was more than two hours away. Not to mention that fact that he would definitely be much angrier with me than Spencer would.
I finally decided to call Freddie. He was so smart; maybe he'd know what to do. And for some reason beyond anyone's comprehension, he knew Sam better than anybody. He always had, even before they'd started dating. If anyone would know where she could have run off to, it would be Freddie. I pressed the call button and put the phone to my ear.
The phone rang once. Then twice. Three times. Four times. Then…
"Freddie Benson here."
"Freddie! It's Carly. Listen, I'm stuck in Tacoma and-"
"I can't come to the phone right now, but leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I can! Um, and if this is Mom…please don't call in a search party again. Beep!"
I sighed and hung up. Freddie had been my last hope. Sure, there were more people in my contacts, but other than Spencer, no one else who I was close enough to that they might help me out. Well, maybe Gibby, but he was on some new conspiracy theory kick that week and had decided to get rid of his cell phone. Apparently, cell phones were really space ships with tiny aliens in them that would make themselves sound just like your friends so they could find out your secrets and use them to take over the world. I'd walked into my living room just a few days before to see Gibby, sledge hammer held high and smashed phone on the floor near his feet, yelling that he wasn't going to let any stupid, smelly, alien scum steal his secrets.
Reluctantly, I went back to my contact list and found Spencer's name. I knew there was no other option. I took a deep breath and pushed the call button just as the screen went black.
"No," I said aloud to my phone. "No, no, no! Don't do this to me now, phone! Don't die on me now! Please don't die on me now!" I pressed the 'on' button and the screen lit up for a second, only to go dark again before I could even make it to the contact menu.
"It's okay," I told myself, trying to keep my breathing even. "Everything's alright. I have a charger. I just have to get the charger out of my car, and-"
My car. Which was smashed to bits with rain pouring relentlessly down into it. And I'd left my charger plugged into the cigarette lighter.
In a flash of anger, I threw my phone across the parking lot, where it landed in a large mud puddle with a sickening splash. I knew that if I ever got out of this mess I'd regret that, but at the moment I really didn't care. I didn't care about the phone or the car or my muddy, ruined clothes. All I wanted was to go back in time and stop all of this from ever happening. Forget pride and dignity; I had to admit it eventually. This was all my fault.
Hugging my arms to try to retain some warmth, I started weighing my other options. I was on my own now, and the way I saw it, I really only had two choices left. Either I could walk until I found a kindly bus driver who would take pity on me and let me ride all the way back to Seattle for free (I'd only taken enough money for lunch into the restaurant; the rest had been in my car), or I could stay where I was. Just then, lightening hit another tree only a short distance away from the one that had dropped its limb on my car, and I rushed into the restaurant, mud and all.
"I thought I told you to get out of here!" Irene shrieked in her shrill, southern accent before the door even had a chance to close behind me.
"Please ma'am, a limb fell on my car and my phone died and-"
"Does it look like I care?" Her stenciled eyebrows rose underneath her cherry-red bangs, and her thin lips were set in a decided scowl. "Now look. I'm gonna count to five, and when I'm done, I want your filthy, muddy behind out of my restaurant! One…"
"If you'd please just hear me out…"
"Two…"
"…A limb fell on my car and I have nowhere else to go…"
"Three…"
"…And now my friend is missing and I don't know where she went…"
"Four…"
"…And I just-"
"Let the girl be, Irene."
The tall, wiry woman spun around so fast it was a wonder she didn't fall in her cheap-looking high heels. She glared for a moment at the tiny Hispanic woman who had seemingly appeared from nowhere, but the woman just stared back, dark eyes twinkling behind thick coke-bottle glasses. Eventually, Irene gave up and left the room with an indignant 'humph.'
"Um…thank you." I said.
"Sit," said the woman, barely glancing at me as she made her way towards a tiny booth near the back of the restaurant and took a seat. I hesitantly joined her at the other side of the booth and tried to stop shivering.
"Here," she said, handing me the fluffy, white towel that had been draped over her arm since she had first entered the room.
"Thanks…again." I took the towel and wrapped it around my cold body. Immediately, I felt a lot better.
"Wait here." Without any explanation, the woman suddenly got up and hobbled to the kitchen. A moment later she returned with two steaming cups. She sat back down and handed one of the cups to me. I looked down at the swirling brown liquid and instantly recognized the familiar, heavenly aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
"I don't have any money," I said reluctantly.
The woman shook her head. "On the house."
"You're sure?"
"Drink," she said, raising her own coffee cup to her wrinkled lips.
I wasn't sure if it was really safe to take a drink from a complete stranger, but the woman had just saved me from the wrath of Irene. Besides, she looked harmless enough. She was a short little thing; so short her feet didn't quite touch the ground when she sat. From the steel-gray hair braided down her back and the deep lines in her light brown skin, she appeared to be very old, but behind her glasses her black eyes were young and full of energy.
I decided to throw caution to the wind and try the coffee. It didn't look like I'd be getting out of there anytime soon anyway. I raised the cup to my mouth and took a cautious sip. The coffee warmed my insides and made me feel better almost immediately.
"You'll have to excuse my daughter-in-law," the woman said. I looked up to see her looking back towards the kitchen. From the tiny window in the door, I could just make out the shape of a tall, thin woman pacing back and forth. "I know she comes across as sullen and rude," the woman continued, "but she doesn't mean to. It is just her way. And life has been especially difficult for her lately."
"Irene is your daughter-in-law?"
The woman nodded. "I wasn't very happy when my son first brought this rude girl home many years ago," she whispered, leaning close, a half-smile playing on her lips. "But she has grown on me. Plus she knows not to cross me, or my son will be upset with her. She may act like she cares about nothing and no one, but I know she cares for my son. She just has a funny way of showing it."
"You said life has been difficult for her lately?" I asked. "Why's that? If you don't mind my asking."
"My son used to make good money as a construction worker in Olympia. He made enough that Irene was able to retire early, which made her happy. But then the company started losing money and he and several other workers were laid off. They were too proud to move in with me and live off of my retirement money. But after several weeks of too little food, piling bills, and no luck finding new jobs, I made them live with me, because I knew if I didn't, they would starve. But I am old, and old people have health problems that require expensive pills and doctor visits. My retirement money was already getting to be too little to cover my own expenses, and it was certainly not enough to cover two others' as well.
"They eventually found this old house for sale and turned it into a combined taco restaurant and home. The alcove with the couch I sleep on and the bathroom are behind the kitchen. My son and his wife sleep in the attic. We've been here for two months, but Irene still has not been able to adjust."
I looked down at the coffee cup cradled in my hands and quickly set it down on the table. "I…I don't know what to say. I'm so sor-"
"No," said the woman firmly, scooting my coffee cup back towards me. "There is no need to apologize for something that is no one's fault." I nodded, thinking that there was more to Irene's obedience of her mother-in-law than not wanting to upset her husband. For such a tiny, frail person, the old woman carried a big presence. She seemed kind enough, but also a little intimidating. Like disappointing her could make even the most callous, uncaring people disappointed in themselves.
"I would let you use our phone," the woman continued, "but there isn't one here. None of us have cell phones, and the landline has been broken for weeks. I think that may have made Irene even angrier when you asked to use the phone. She was angry because she was embarrassed about not having one."
"Oh. I'm so-" I started, but stopped when I saw the woman's eyes warning me not to say it. "No apologizing for things that aren't my fault," I said. "Right."
The woman nodded. "Of course, throwing your phone into a puddle was your fault." I looked up from my coffee in surprise. "It was also stupid. But what's done is done, and you've harmed no one but yourself."
"You saw that?"
"The storm woke me from my nap. I went to the window to watch it, but instead of rain pouring into an empty parking lot, I found a young girl crying in a puddle. I was about to go see about you, but then you got up and went under the shelter to use your phone. I thought everything would be well again soon, but then you threw your phone and I knew you were not well at all." She paused. "Why did you do that?"
"Oh," I said, embarrassed. "Um, it died."
The woman smirked. "Fair enough. Now for bigger questions. Why were you crying, and who did you need so badly to call?"
I sighed. "That's a long story."
"We have time. And you look like you need to talk."
I shook my head. "I don't really want to talk right now."
"I did not say you looked like you wanted to talk. I said you looked like you needed to."
"But…but I don't even know you!" I said, getting a little angry. "How can I just spill my guts to someone I don't even know?"
The woman thought about it for a while, then nodded. "You're right." She extended her hand. "I'm Ana Rodriguez. And you are?"
"Carly," I said, taking her wrinkled hand. "Carly Shay."
"Carly," she smiled warmly. "Now we are not strangers."
For the first time in what seemed like forever, I actually laughed. I stopped myself quickly and looked down at my coffee, a little ashamed at how I could be laughing when Sam was missing.
"You know Carly," said Ana, "it's okay to laugh, even when something bad has happened. In fact, it is probably the best time to laugh. Sometimes laughter is a better medicine than anything a doctor could give you."
"Ana," I said slowly, not taking my eyes off of the coffee cup, "throwing my phone wasn't the only thing that's happened recently that was my fault." I paused for a deep breath. "My best friend is missing, and it's all my fault." I looked up. Ana didn't say anything, but the look she gave me spoke loud and clear: Go on. Speak your mind. You will not be judged.
Taking another breath, I decided to tell Ana everything. It might not do as much good as she seemed to think, but it was worth a shot. "It's hard to say where things really started going wrong," I explained, "but I guess I should start about seven years ago, when my best friends met each other for the first time…"