The minute she was gone, the cops asked Kathy who to call. Would her grandparents come stay with her, or could they take her to them? There were no grandparents. Then who? An aunt or uncle? That jogged her brain, and she thought of someone, relieved to have an answer so she didn’t seem unwanted and alone.
They could call Uncle Ray.
He came immediately. They went to the hospital together, and over the next few days, he got things sorted. Sylvia had leukemia. It was fairly advanced, and her prognosis was not great. If there was hope, it would be found at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. The health insurance would cover most of the treatment, and whatever it didn’t, Uncle Ray would cover out of his own pocket. He’d accompany Sylvia on the airplane, because somebody had to, and that was no job for a kid. He would stay out there for a while to get Sylvia settled, which begged the question: What would happen to Kathy while they were gone? She could still smell the hospital waiting room where they had that conversation. The sharpness of disinfectant, the damp odor of carpet muddy from the rain. Uncle Ray looked at her under the harsh fluorescent light with pity in his eyes.
“I’m gonna talk to you like you’re a grown-up, okay, Kathy? You have to be brave.”
She was terrified, but she wanted him to think well of her, so she raised her chin and nodded.
“I reached out to your grandparents.”
She stared at him, sick to her stomach.
“You know who I mean, right? Your mom’s folks?”
“I never met them. They don’t like me.”
“That’s not true. They had a falling-out with your mom.”
“Because of me.”
“No. It was about your mother’s lifestyle. Her behavior. You have no responsibility for that. You’re just a kid. Your grandma understands that. She told me to say that she would help you out if she could. Unfortunately, she’s not able to right now.”
“Right.”
“I’m serious. You shouldn’t take it personally. After they moved to Florida, your grandad had a stroke. He went into a nursing home, and your grandma’s fallen on hard times. Unfortunately, where that leaves us is, well…”
He cleared his throat.
“You, uh, you know Eddie’s your dad, right?”
Her face went hot with shame. Of course she knew. That didn’t mean she wanted to talk about it.
“Him and me, we’re like brothers. Grew up next door to each other, had each other’s backs all through school. And we work together to this day. I know he acts like a tough guy. That’s from being on the job, all the pressure and whatnot. Some rough people he’s involved with. But trust me, there’s a good heart underneath. He knows Sylvia’s in the hospital, and he’s broken up about it. He really cares for her. And he cares for you, even if he’s not one to show it. Bottom line, I think the best thing to do is to talk to him. He’ll come through in the end. I believe that.”
But he didn’t sound so sure. She stared at the rug. It was gray and pink, in a diamond pattern, breathtakingly ugly, stained, and frayed.
“I’m going to ask him to let you stay there until your mom comes home. He’ll do it if he can, but there is one complication.”
She looked up and caught his apologetic shrug.
“His wife.”
12
Eddie lived in Danvers, though it was against the rules of his job. He listed Uncle Ray’s office in Boston as his official home address to satisfy the city. She learned that later. As they pulled into the driveway of a modest ranch-style house, she had no idea what awaited. She didn’t even know it was Eddie’s house, just that he was bringing her somewhere until Sylvia got better. The house looked bedraggled in the rain, sad and hollow, like Kathy felt. Her worldly possessions were in a cardboard box in the back seat. Everything she owned—clothing, school supplies, her sketchbook and pencils, her books and lip gloss and curling iron.
Eddie carried the box into a beige-carpeted living room, set it down on the coffee table, and told her to wait. There was a suite of matching furniture, upholstered in gold brocade and fitted with tight plastic covers. The plastic made a squeaking sound when she sat. Eddie disappeared down a small hallway, calling his wife’s name. After a moment, fast footsteps approached. A small, neat woman with short hair, clad in slacks and a sweater, stared daggers at her.
“Jesus friggin’ Christ,” she muttered, and turned away.
Kathy’s stomach clenched. That woman knew who she was to Eddie without being told, and she wasn’t happy about it. She was going to kick Kathy out on the street. Where could she go? Foster care was the next stop. There was a foster kid at school. Kids made fun of him for wearing the same clothes every day, but it was his eyes that Kathy noticed. Haunted.