February, six years ago #3
I put up my hands. “Well, don’t say I didn’t offer my hospitality. Where are your folks having dinner tonight? Can they come pick you up from here?”
Bonnie was already pulling out her cellphone.
“Yeah, they’re eating at Doc B’s tonight.
So that’s, what, only ten minutes from here?
It’s in the opposite direction to home, but they won’t mind.
” She pressed a button and held the phone to her ear.
“To be honest, they’ll probably prefer to take me home themselves, with the weather being like this.
” Her gaze flicked away. “Hey, Dad. Are you having a nice dinner? . . . Good . . . No, no, I’m fine.
I’m with Mill at the Va-Va-Voom Diner, near your office.
I was gonna crash at Ben’s, but he’s gone home and honestly, I was hoping to get a ride home with you.
I know it’s a bit out of your way . . . Oh, sure, he’s fine.
Just . . . you know. Being Ben. So is that okay?
. . . Thanks, Dad. You’re the best. See you soon — love you.
” She ended the call. “All set. They’ve paid the check, so they can come now — they’ll be here in ten. ”
“Cool. I’ll wait until they get here.” I grinned at my friend and sat back in my seat. “So, tell me more about this need of yours to, and I quote, ‘get laid.’” I used finger quotes theatrically. “What are you planning on doing about that?”
Bonnie laughed as we fell into conversation about our respective dating prospects — zero currently for me, a couple of possibilities for the more open-minded Bonnie, who’d recently installed a new dating app.
It was nearly ten p.m. when we realized it had been almost forty minutes since Bonnie’s call to her folks.
“Okay, where the hell are they?” Bonnie pulled out her phone again. “Dad will be driving, so I’m calling Mom.”
She tried her mom’s cellphone, and then hung up. “Going to voicemail. Guess I’ll try Dad again. Maybe they took their sweet-ass time leaving the restaurant, and the journey’s just taking longer because of the snow.”
I nodded. “Absolutely. They’ll be here any minute.”
Bonnie tried making a call to her dad, holding eye contact with me as she waited.
It was getting quiet in the restaurant, and I could hear the ring on the other end.
It kicked into a muffled, low-toned voicemail message.
Bonnie shook her head at me. “Hi Dad, erm, it’s been a while and you’re still not here, so give me a call if you’ve got delayed or something, okay?
See you soon. I hope.” She put the phone on the table. “That’s so weird. It’s weird, right?”
I gave her arm a reassuring pat. “They probably got talking to someone on their way out of the restaurant, and your dad is now driving, so he’s not answering. And maybe your mom’s phone has been on silent all evening. Let’s give them another twenty minutes before we start wondering.”
Bonnie pursed her lips. “You’re right. It’s just not like them, that’s all.”
I tried to distract Bonnie over the next little while, with talk of my new sports center campaign at work, but it was tough not to talk about the office without making Bonnie think of her dad.
By the time the clock above the diner counter displayed 10:25, and it had been over an hour since Bonnie had called for the ride home, I began to allow myself to get worried.
Bonnie tried both her parents’ cells again, and neither picked up.
Bonnie was right — this was not at all like Frank and Ange Mason.
“Try Ben’s cell? Maybe he’ll know something, or be able to help?”
Bonnie shook her head. “He’s home tucked up in bed by now — his phone will be off.
And even if I could call him, I don’t want to worry him unnecessarily.
What’s he gonna do? It’s not like they’d’ve called him to let him know what’s going on, and not me.
” She bit her lip. “Shit. And the diner closes at eleven, so we’ll have to get out of here either way. ”
I nodded. “Well, we’ll stay here until eleven, then. And if they still haven’t shown up, and we haven’t gotten through to them, we’ll go to my place and leave messages telling them to come pick you up from my place. It’s only a few extra minutes’ drive.”
Bonnie frowned. “Sure. Yeah . . . okay. It’s a plan.” She stared at the phone on the table in front of her, as if willing it to buzz.
Her telepathy didn’t go unanswered. The phone started buzzing and singing a tinkly tune, and Bonnie snatched it up, her gaze fixed on mine. “Dad?”
Her eyes widened. I was able to make out a deep voice on the other end, but none of the words. Bonnie’s face was unreadable — she was staring at me, but not seeing me. Seeing something else. And she wasn’t saying a word.
After what seemed like several minutes, but might only have been thirty seconds, Bonnie eventually spoke. “Thank you. Yes, I will.” Her voice was quiet and strangely thick. She ended the call and put the phone down, slowly, on the table.
“That was the hospital. Mom and Dad got into a crash on their way here.”