Chapter 5
TYLER
For maybe the sixtieth time this past week, I stand in the doorway of Sally’s bedroom. My chest burns. My eyes burn and feel dry at the same time. My throat is dry like I’ve been screaming. My stomach clenches, both from hunger and grief.
She’s been gone for a week already. When the thought crosses my mind, fresh tears blur my vision. I’m not sure where the tears are coming from at this point. I’m certain that I’m severely dehydrated since all I’ve done is curl up on various surfaces and cry.
Leaning against the doorframe, I allow myself to sink down to the floor and rest my head against the door.
I used to find it intriguing watching those short ShareIt clips where people explore abandoned places.
The most haunting ones are when it looks like they simply walked away from their life, mid-activity.
Something catastrophic had them leaving while eating dinner.
In the middle of the night. Halfway through the workday.
It's just as haunting being in Sally’s house because it has the very same vibe.
This is a house that had been lived in, right up until it wasn’t.
Her bed is half made. The far side is pulled back and bunched from where she’d gotten out of bed.
A robe lies across the end, tossed there to use again later.
There’s a lamp on her nightstand that’s on.
A small screen, which I think is a baby monitor. A pair of earrings.
At the end of the bed is a slipper, and then the second is halfway across the room, as if she’d accidentally kicked it while walking. On the chair by the dresser is a laundry basket full of folded clothes, as if she hadn’t had the energy to put them away once she finished washing and folding them.
There are a couple photo frames on the dresser along with a jewelry box. There’s a short bookshelf on another wall, the shelves bowing from being overloaded.
On the far side of the room is a side-sleeper bassinet. The ones that are pushed right up to the edge of the bed so the baby is right there but not in the same bed. Safer.
I stare at it from where I’m leaning listlessly.
Where is your baby, Sally?
I know who he’s with but where is he? How do I find him?
I tried asking the hospital and while I have all kinds of medical power of attorneys for Sally, I don’t have any for her kid.
Especially because the father is named and took him home.
It’d been a different story if Sally hadn’t named a father and she died.
Then I think I’d have had a chance to have him as next of kin or something.
“How do I find him?” I whisper and push myself to my feet. God, I’m tired. I need to eat something.
Even with the decision made to make some toast or whatever, I stand where I am and stare. I can almost see Sally here. A memory of her walking around, going about her morning, getting ready for the day.
There’s a whole list of things I need to do to take care of the life Sally left behind. This house. Her vehicle. Her bills.
Then there’s her funeral.
It all feels too big.
Turning, I head toward the kitchen but stop at the open door to the nursery. It’s ready for my nephew, but right now, it looks like it’s nothing more than an image for a magazine. Unused. Beautiful. Stylish. Neutral. Soft.
Across the hall is the room Sally had ready for me.
It has a full furniture set and bedding.
I told her it made the most sense that I sold my furniture rather than pay for a bigger pod.
The only thing I was really coming with was a mattress and a few smaller pieces of furniture that I didn’t want to part with.
The couches and dining room table and whatever, I sold.
Considering I was moving into my sister’s house and she had all those things—much nicer than mine, I might add—it seemed silly to take mine and store them.
Seeing the bedroom set made me cry, of course. It still makes me cry. I feel the way my chest tightens and my freaking sinuses haven’t been clear in a week. But finally, I might be cried out. No tears come.
Somewhat dazedly, I head for the kitchen and dig out the bread from the freezer. I stick two slices into the toaster oven and then pour myself a glass of water from the fountain in the door of the fridge.
I don’t taste the toast. Not even with butter. Before I force the second down my throat, I add some peanut butter to give it a little substance. It has taste now, but it’s not good. Nothing is good. Nothing may be good again.
Having finished eating and drinking all my water, I determine that I need to find my nephew. I can’t lose him. I can’t live my life without Sally’s son.
How do I find him, though? I don’t have any of the personal belongings that she’d brought to the hospital, including her phone. I’m guessing all that went home with Denny. Which makes perfect sense. They were engaged after all.
Back at Sally’s bedroom door, I look for any sign of this man.
It’s weird, right? They were getting married, they have a kid, but there are literally zero signs he exists.
She didn’t get herself pregnant. Obviously.
I’ve seen this guy on TV. He’s a good hockey player.
I was a fan before Sally told me they were pregnant.
It’s just so strange. What kind of engaged couple having a baby has no evidence of the other’s existence in their house?
I know for certain that she didn’t spend her time there, which might explain why there’s nothing of him here.
But we talked every single day, despite the distance between us.
Not one single time had she ever been with him.
I take a deep breath and step into Sally’s bedroom. I need to figure out how to find this guy. Address books may be a thing of the past, but maybe there’s something here.
The first place I look is her nightstand, though I brace myself for the things I might not want to see. It seems like the place that she might put personal things, though, right? Like, if she had something of Denny’s with his address on it, she might keep it in the nightstand drawer?
Fuck’s sake. Where would I put the address of a baby daddy?
“In my phone,” I mutter. Useless. I don’t have her damn phone.
I’m a little sus when there’s almost nothing in the nightstand at all. Just a couple more books, all with bookmarks sticking out of the pages. Are these books she didn’t finish, or maybe books she was rotating through based on mood?
I check the bookmarks, just to see if maybe she used a receipt or… a valet tag? But no, they’re all actual bookmarks. Shutting the drawers, I turn and face the bathroom door. It’s ajar, so I move toward it. Not that I think his address would be in there.
This would be so much easier if the hospital would give his number. I get it. Privacy and all. But she’s my damn sister. That’s my nephew. I’m listed as her emergency contact and her medical POA. That means something, right?
Not according to patient confidentiality.
I’m not mad about it. I’m actually glad they don’t give that shit out to just anyone who asks for it. But how do I find my nephew without Sally’s phone and nothing to go on but a name? He’s not going to be listed online. He’s a public figure.
Then again, a lot of celebrities’ addresses are known. Their homes are on tours.
Okay, maybe I need to find some of Sally’s electronics. Her tablet. Her laptop. Something other than the stupid television would be super useful.
Flicking on the light, I peek into the bathroom. Not that I thought something that might lead me to Denny Willow would be in here. Still. Why leave a room unchecked?
As I back out, I pause. My attention catches on the cup with a single toothbrush. I move further into the bathroom and open the drawers of the vanity to peek inside. I turn to the shower.
“What didn’t you tell me, Sally?” I murmur. There’s absolutely nothing here that could be construed as belonging to a man. Or even a second person—man or otherwise.
What if the baby isn’t with Denny? What if… she made that up?
I turn back to the bedroom, shaking my head. I flip the light switch on my way by and stop at the dresser to open all the drawers. Perhaps there’s a drawer of his things. No, there isn’t. I look at the pictures on top and smile. Both pictures are of the two of us.
Opening the jewelry box, I immediately find the engagement ring sitting right on top. She’d only stopped wearing it because her fingers swelled, and she didn’t want it to have to be cut off. I pick it up, and my eyes widen a little. It’s heavy. Does that mean it’s real?
Holding it up to examine it, I nearly laugh at myself. How the hell do you tell if an enormous diamond is real? It looks real. It feels real. It’s… stunning.
Keeping it tight in my fist, I open all the drawers of her jewelry box. I’m rewarded when I find little folded-up notes. One is unmistakably a password. I don’t know to what, but I take a picture of it. Another is a receipt for something that cost $9,468. Huh. I take a picture of that too.
Otherwise, there’s nothing but jewelry.
I poke through the closet, and I don’t find so much as a Willow jersey, though there are Winnipeg jerseys. Badcock, 01. I grin. I wonder if Denny knew about that? The second is an older jersey from back in the day when the Winnipeg team had been the Wendigos. Mason, 11. He’s long since been traded.
However, there’s nothing in the closet that’s useful either.
“Where did you put your laptop or tablet, Sally?” I ask the bedroom when I step out of the closet. She couldn’t have taken them both to the hospital, right?
I wander to the living room and look around. She doesn’t have a desk in the house that I’ve found. Which means her laptop is put away somewhere. In a drawer? Stuck between the cushions of the couch? Maybe slid under the couch?
“Just give me a sign,” I beg. “Where is your laptop, sister?”
Nothing pops out. The sunlight doesn’t illuminate anything. There’s no mysterious knock in the house.
I sigh heavily and take a step forward. There’s a table here.
Is it one of those magic tables where the top comes off, revealing a secret compartment?
That seems too easy. There’s a shelf beneath the thick top, but it’s filled with those big coffee table books. Which makes sense. It’s a coffee table.
The top doesn’t seem to come off. But I do spy a charger plugged into the wall. It has one of those enormous plugs, so I know it belongs to a laptop. The charger is still here. Which suggests she didn’t bring the laptop to the hospital. Why would she? She was just having a baby.
Unfortunately, it’s not plugged into the laptop. That’s still hiding. Frowning, I turn back and nearly screech. Fuck yes. There it is. Peeking out from between the heavy books.
I dig it out and open it. Shockingly, it has almost no battery, so I plug that bitch in and turn it on.
It boots up, and I wait as my heart races.
Please be linked to your phone. Please have useful information, like text conversations, so I can scroll back and find an address.
She has been to his house, hasn’t she? Fuck, I don’t know.
I don’t remember what she told me about where they got together.
First things first. The most obvious place to look—contacts. When I click on the app, it gives me a little spinner, telling me it’s syncing all devices. When it populates, I scroll right down to the Ds.
“Denny. Denny. Denny,” I murmur.
Okay… what the fuck? How is his number not in here?
“What have you kept from me?” I whisper as I hit the search bar and type out ‘Denny’. A name pops up—Dennis. The nickname on the number is Denny. Yeah, okay. Denny could totally be a nickname.
I click on the contact, holding my breath, and sure enough, there’s a local address. Is this him? Did I find the elusive Denny Willow? Did I find my nephew?
Typing the address into my phone, I find that he lives twenty-four minutes from here. Okay. I have a destination to start. I’m not giving him a chance to turn me away before he hears me out, so I’m just going to drop in on him like a creep.
First, I need to shower and look like I haven’t been crying for a week. Not that I think he’d blame me. I just lost my sister. My only sister. My only family. My best fucking friend in the entire fucking world.
“No,” I say and push my hands under my glasses to rub at my eyes. I need to keep the liquid I put back into my body with that glass of water. No crying it out.
I hurry through, looking somewhat civilized, and rush to the door. As soon as I throw it open, I stop. Apparently, in the last week that I’ve holed myself up inside Sally’s house, there was a snowstorm. I scowl. Stupid. Now I need to dig out her car.
Wait. I need to find the keys to her car!
I was only able to get into the house because I still had her spare key on my keychain from when I visited last year.
Shutting the door, I start digging through jacket pockets and opening the drawers in the hutch just inside the door.
Frustrated, I shake the jackets until finally, a key drops.
The spare key fob to Sally’s SUV. Yes!
Boots. Jacket. All the winter shit. Then I make my way through the foot of snow to the vehicle.
Heart still racing. As the car warms up, I brush the frozen snow away as best I can.
I might be half an hour from finally meeting my nephew.
The one piece of Sally left alive. The last member of my family.
I’m half an hour away from discovering if this weird-ass situation between Sally and Denny is real. There’s something really fucking strange going on here, and I want to know what it is. But right now, I need to find my nephew. That’s the most important thing.