Chapter 18
Cora
It's not often that I find myself bored. At home, there's always something to be done, but in this hotel suite in DC, there's nothing I can do but sit and wait. It's been hours since Eddie left, but it feels like an eternity. I think wanting answers so badly and wanting to bring Sadie home safely triples the length of every second, making it worse to just be sitting here doing nothing.
I pull out my phone, using the internet browser to look through the digital catalog from my favorite flower seed company, but it's a waste of time. I ordered seeds before Christmas.
I pace the room, but it only makes me more anxious, and I decide I have to leave the room.
I didn't exactly promise him that I wouldn't go looking for trouble, but it hit me like a lead weight the idea that the time he spent here was time he could've been looking for Sadie.
What if something bad was happening to my sister while we laughed and told stories? I'd never be able to live with myself. I'm a distraction to why he's here in the first place.
I call down to have my car brought to the front by the valet before shrugging on my coat and making sure I look presentable in the mirror hanging by the door.
The elevator ride happens with no interruptions, although a part of me wishes that arm of his would slide through the crack right before it closed like it did last night. I dart my eyes around the lobby, but other than the smiling staff behind the counter, it's empty.
I hand the valet a twenty as he gives me my keys and wishes me a good day. Normally, I'd tell him I'm just out for a ride or where I plan to go, but after not knowing what happened with Sadie and Eddie finding the three listening and tracking devices in my belongings, I'm finding that sharing personal information, especially about my whereabouts, isn't such a good idea. I know there's a very good chance the young man who brought my car up doesn't need information from me to stage an abduction or anything, but I know I need to be more cautious in public.
I feel a sense of dread, wondering if my car has a tracker on it, as I drive away from the hotel. It wouldn't be hard for anyone to put one on it at any given time. Is that how Eddie knew I was at the hotel? But that doesn't make sense because he was waiting for me when I arrived, proving that he had a means of knowing where I was and when.
At the first stop light I pull up to, I grab my phone from the charging pad on the console with every intent on calling him and demanding to know how he tracked me, but I remember he's supposed to be working on Sadie's case, and I'm only a waste of time. His words, not mine.
As if my subconscious had the college in mind, my car finds its way there without me giving it much thought. DC isn't a strange place for me. I've been here more times than I can count in my lifetime because of my father's political career. The town is always bustling with people and groups of kids on field trips taking in the plethora of American history, and today is no different.
Rather than stopping me and asking what my intentions are at the gate, the guard lifts the security arm and waves me through. I don't even have to slow down much.
Before, I' d give him a little wave, with a thank you on my lips, but today is different.
After the insanely awkward time at Daydreamer's and Eddie explaining that although that place is illegal, there are worse places some people get taken against their will, I'm coming to realize that the safety nets put in place for so many places can be bypassed easily.
I doubt that if I weren't driving such an expensive car, the guard might've stopped me, and that discrimination has to be something that the people out here with ill intent would know. The bias in thinking that bad guys drive beaters or that they're poor is ridiculous. After leaving Daydreamer's Spa, I researched the sex industry in America, both legal and illegal, and I was floored by how much money is in the business. It's definitely high enough that a person planning on abducting college students could roll up to that gate in an expensive car.
I stop my car halfway through the gate, looking behind me to make sure the coast is clear, before putting it in reverse and lining my driver's side door up with the door to the guard booth.
"Is there trouble, miss?" he asks as he steps outside.
"I don't have a sticker."
"You don't need one," he says, pointing inside the campus. "We have visitor's parking just over there."
"So just anyone has access to the campus?"
He shakes his head. "No, ma'am. You're safe here."
I'm safe, according to him because people with money aren't criminals.
I know this man is just doing what he's been told to do. I can only imagine the complaints he'd get from others if they were stopped at the gate and grilled about their intentions. DC University is a private school, and I know from William attending this school just how expensive an education is here. The parents of students aren't exactly the type of people who have their intentions examined very often, and I can only imagine their reaction if a security guard asked them questions.
I have no doubt this man's first day on the job looks anything like his days do now. One complaint from the right person could leave him unemployed. I also know that if something happened to one of the precious, well-connected students inside, his head would be the first to roll.
"Thank you, Pete," I say after a quick look at his name badge.
"Have a good day, miss," he says with a gentle dip of his head.
There have been very few changes to the campus since the last time I was here. Old money has old values, and they're not very interested in change. Change brings on new blood and reasoning, and if we aren't living in a time where the good old-boy system isn't entrenched into every decision, then most folks around here aren't interested. It gives them less control, and as I park and climb out of my car, I know I'm part of the problem.
I know that my mother played her part in my dad's society because it was expected of her. The husband makes the money on Capitol Hill, and his wife and kids do things to fill their time that won't interfere with his needs. She started her non-profit not only because she wanted to help people, but also because it was expected. Women have been fighting for their place in government for a very long time, but it's always an uphill battle, and I don't see that changing any time soon.
Personally, I have no interest in politics. I won't get into an argument defending anyone's point of view, not even William’s, and it chaps his hide that I'm not as compassionate as he thinks I should be.
He has more staying power than I could ever have, and I'll give him credit for that. I think he wants to make some real changes in the world, and that takes a lot of determination. I just don't have the stomach for everything that it takes.
But am I wrong about my brother?
I can't help but wonder this as I make a turn at the admin building and use the sidewalk to go toward the fountain at the back.
Eddie wasn't shy about mentioning his suspicions about Willam and his possible involvement in Sadie's disappearance, but I just can't see it as a possibility.
Those two never saw eye to eye and that had more to do with Sadie causing problems for him. I'm certain that people stopped paying much attention to our little sister a long time ago, so William's need to make her disappear is pointless, really.
I take a seat on one of the benches near the fountain, a hint of nostalgia hitting me in the chest when I watch students chatting and studying. College can be an insanely lonely place. The time requirements for a degree program here alone can put you in the library nearly every waking hour a person isn't in class. The pressure from family to do well, because it reflects back on your parents, is astronomical. It contributes to the high suicide rates for students attending Ivy League schools.
I spent many days trying to soak up the sun when I could while I was at school, and I know that's what some of the students here are doing as well. The ones sitting by themselves need to study, but they also need a connection to the outside world so they're not as lonely.
I hate the idea of kids like Ben having all the pressure of college weighing them down and then having to turn around and work jobs like the one he has just so he can stay in school. It makes me insanely irate with the secondary educational system in America.
It also makes my thoughts circle back to Sadie, and I wonder what she has been forced to do to support her drug habit when we refused to help her. I don't know which is worse, giving her what she wants or making her find a way to get it herself. I think the latter probably did more damage even though it made us less culpable in the results.
The wind whips around me, and as I pull my jacket a little tighter, I watch a guy chase after a paper that escaped his grasp.
It's hard to be here and not think about the sacrifices I've made for my family. I always wanted to be in education. It's why it was so easy to work for my mom. Literacy for today's children shouldn't be an issue. Making sure every child knows how to read is fundamental to life in America. It's a given, or least it should be, but there are schools that just don't have the funding to ensure it happens.
I didn't see my life going in this direction. I wanted to help Mom with her foundation until it was time to spread my wings and fly, and that flight path to me always looked something like this place. I wanted to be a college professor. I wanted to teach those who wanted to teach. I wanted to make sure I was helping on the front end, making sure elementary teachers knew what to look for in a student's struggles with reading. I wanted to help people become as passionate as Mom and I were.
Her death made that impossible, or at least that's how my father made it look. In his grief, he asked me to stay with Chapter One. It was my mother's pride and joy and, for that reason alone, I needed to take over and see that it remains a success.
I've done exactly what he has asked of me for the last twelve years, but I can't help but wonder how much of a difference I could've made in that timeframe by helping to cultivate teachers who care.
"Hi, can you tell me where the related arts building is?"
I look up at the young woman standing in front of me.
"Just down the sidewalk there. It's the big building on the right. You can't miss it. "
"Thank you so much, professor," she says before walking away, and it makes my heart clench with a loss I know I'll never be able to fulfill.