“A fire,” Nana says, settling on the couch. “A fire is always nice.”
Nana is better now, more agile, and she could go home, but she doesn’t. She wants to be here, with us, and I think we need that.
Flashes of color among the white flakes through the window. Orange, black, green. Small children in costumes and masks, plastic pumpkins hanging from their hands. I blink, peering harder through the glass.
How could I have forgotten?
“It’s Halloween,” I say. “We don’t have any candy.”
“We’ll turn the porch lights off,” my father says. “They won’t come to the door if the porch lights are off.”
He dusts off his hands. “I have to go to the hospital for a bit and then I’ll be back. I’ll call the police again and see if they have any updates.”
He checks his watch. “Your mother should be home from the airport with Maddie in a few hours. If the snow keeps coming down, they might be delayed, but don’t worry. We have enough to worry about right now.”
Maddie stayed longer at school, but she’s finally coming home for a few days.
“Early in the year for snow,” Nana says. “Maybe a hard winter ahead.”
I think of Joey out in the world. In the cold. Shivering and high. Unsafe, far from me.
* * *
—
I make popcorn in the kitchen. Every time my phone flashes, I pick it up, because it might be him, but it isn’t. It’s Daniel, or Liza, or Jeremy, but I don’t answer, because I’m tired of talking, of texting.
Hopeless. Empty. Like nothing I do to make things better will matter anyway.
It’s a burning feeling, living with a missing person inside you. A ghost hole, a nefarious, sharp pain.
Nana flips through the channels. Sports, a cooking show. Enthusiastic people renovating homes, ripping out perfectly good cabinets. What is good enough for one person is not good enough for another.
I stoke the fire. The heat feels nice, making me drowsy. I’m so very tired.
I must have fallen asleep, because Nana is shaking me.
“Your phone,” she says. “Your phone.”
I sit up, rubbing my eyes. It’s not a number I recognize, but I answer anyway.
“Hello? Joey?”
“Hey, Em. It’s been a long time.”
I feel like all the blood has drained from my body. The familiar, silky voice.
It’s Luther Leonard.
“Hey, do me a favor and if you’re with anyone, go into another room, okay? This is a private conversation.”
Nana is looking at me. Is it him? she mouths.
“I’m serious, Em. I have something you want, so pay attention.”
I look down at Nana, shake my head, point to the kitchen.
“Okay,” I say softly into the phone as I walk. “I’m alone.”
I open the door to the garage, flip on the light, close the door behind me.
“I’ve missed you, Em.”
“Do you have him, Luther? Do you know where he is?”
“I do and I do, but I want something in return. You cost me a lot of money, you know? If only you’d let me make that stop. If only you’d done that, so many things might be different right now.”
“I’m sorry, Luther. I am. Just tell me where he is.”
“I lost an eye because of you, Emmy. And time. I lost time. And money. You owe me.”
“I don’t have any money,” I say. “You’re a few years too early. My trust fund doesn’t happen until I’m twenty-five.”
“Funny. Your parents do. You think I don’t know about the safe? I spent a lot of time in that house, Emmy. Remember? I spent years in that house, playing with your brother. I know about the safe because we used to pretend to be safecrackers. Tried to figure out the code. It was fun. Things at your house were always fun. Not like at my house.”
“We were nice to you,” I say. “We were always nice to you.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t. You and me were friends. We played Angry Birds together. But listen, we have to get this show on the road, because honestly? If I have to read one more of your sad-sack posts about your brother on Insta? I will die.”
I swallow. Luther saw my posts, which means…maybe Joey did, too.
“What is it you want me to do, Luther?”
“I want you to go to the safe, get everything that means money in it, put it in your backpack, and bring it to me. And then you can have Joey back. He’s ready to go, I think. He’s not cut out for life on the run, you know?”
“I don’t…I don’t know the combination to the safe. I might be able to get some mo—”
“I guess you better figure it out real quick, then,” he says, cutting me off. “I know you can figure it out. It’s always some stupid thing like a kid’s birthday or something. Parents are basic like that. Think of what your dad likes and think hard. They always like special corny shit. And then get in the car and I’ll call you back in one hour and tell you where to meet me.”
“How do I even know he’s with you? Did you hurt him? Lu—”
But the voice that comes through the phone isn’t Luther’s.
It’s scratchy and low and sick-sounding, but it’s my brother.
“Just get him the stuff, Emmy.”
Slow, like he can barely breathe.
“Joey, did he hurt you? Are you okay?” Relief floods through me. He’s alive.
“Just bring it, and I’ll come home.”
“Joey—”
“Emmy!” It’s Luther again. “Don’t even think about calling the cops, either. I’ll know. It’s just you bringing the stuff. Nobody else.”
“I don’t have a car. My parents are—”
“Then you better figure out how to get one, Emmy. And ticktock, ticktock, time’s wasting.”
The phone goes dead.
* * *
—
Nana glances up as I walk back into the room. “Is everything all right, Emory? You look pale as a ghost. Come sit.”
Don’t let her see me shaking. Don’t let her hear my voice trembling.
“It’s nothing, Nana. Just my friend. He’s…having a problem. I might go out for a little while with him, talk it out. Okay?”
Normal voice. Normal face. Pretend like nothing is wrong. Don’t make her suspicious. Don’t mess this up like I’ve messed everything else up.
“Well, all right, if you have to. I’ll be fine here.”
“I’m just going to go change.”
Nana turns back to the cooking show and I cross the room like I’m going upstairs, but go to my father’s den instead.
In the den, I stand in front of the safe. Basic, Luther said. Parents are basic.
This isn’t a safe like in old movies, the round combination kind. It’s digital. What if there’s a mechanism, like if I fail too many times and it sets off an alert to the police or something? I try my birthday, my fingers trembling as they punch the keys. A little screen flashes error.
I can get Joey back, if only I do this. He’ll be home.
I close my eyes.
Basic.
My father was happy once. I remember. He played with us. Read to us. Built Legos and splashed in the pool. It was only later, after Joey started having problems, that he stayed away more and more. Started smoking in the car after a shift. Made the hospital his home when we needed him here.