My voice is little more than a croak, but the urgency can't be denied.
I'm met with silence. I drop my bag on the floor and rush to the light. I'm not sure what I think I'll find when the room illuminates, but I feel an overwhelming sense of relief when everything looks exactly like it did when I left this afternoon.
“Mom, where are you?” I call out as I make my way to the back of the RV, still filled with nervous tension. I know she doesn't leave the RV anymore, hell, even when I go to the grocery store she pulls the curtains that cordons off the living space from the driver’s seat and waits for me to get back.
The bed is unmade, but that's how I left it, so it isn’t surprising. What scares the ever-loving shit out of me is that her small pile of clothes, which I just separated out of the clean laundry, are gone. One look in the overhead cupboard and I realize so is the small overnight bag we've had for years. The one we'd use when mom was still working and we had enough money to splurge on a hotel room occasionally. She'd always make sure it was one with an indoor pool, so we could swim in the evening when most of the other people were already back in their rooms.
I run to the tiny bathroom I barely ever use, preferring the bathhouses to the half shower and plastic toilet, and find one of the few possessions my mother holds dear gone too. The white plastic box, which is supposed to look like marble, is still here, but the ring I know was inside is gone.
She stopped wearing it years ago. I thought she might have sold it back when she had a tough time making due before I started working. But a few years ago I was under the sink looking for pads that weren't there, and I’d found this box attached to the underside of the sink.
I'm pretty sure my dad gave it to her; she always wore it on the ring finger of her left hand. I picture the unusual stone and the pretty pinkish metal the surrounded it in my mind and wonder how long it's been gone, or if she really left and she took it with her. Bewildered, I get ready for bed, hoping she will be back when I wake up.
The next morning I'm completely lost. I haven't slept all night and now it's time to work. I'm torn, I almost want to stay here and wait, just in case she might come back, but I can't lose this job and I think that's exactly what would happen if I didn't show up. I haven't even been working there a full week yet. Not to mention I have bills that need paying, and seeing that the freezer cash is gone along with my mom, I make the decision. I'd better get to work.
Seven
Maggie knows there's something wrong. I can tell by the sidelong glance she keeps throwing my way, at least I hope that's all it is. I close my eyes and take two long breaths, telling myself to pull it together. I have two hours left of my shift and I can fall apart when I get home.
I've been working in a daze. I can't remember half of the faces I've served this morning. I'm barely functioning on autopilot.
I have absolutely no idea where my mom could have gone, no clue where to look. What's even worse? I can't figure out why she would have left.
I feel a warm palm land on my shoulder and jump. Turning, I see Maggie's kind eyes searching my face. “You okay Laura?”
“Yes, of course,” I answer automatically and begin scanning the diner. I wonder how long I've been zoned out this time. I see a couple empty glasses at one of my tables, so I give Maggie a weak smile over my shoulder and rush over for the reprieve.
When my shift is done, I've had a complete about-face. I'm now terrified to leave because I'm pretty sure I'll be returning to an empty RV.
As I'm pushing out of the door, it gets pulled from the outside, and I nearly fall when the weight I was pushing against disappears.
“Sorry, excuse me,” I mutter robotically as two hands, hands which give me an electric jolt, grab my upper arms. I look up and meet a stunning pair of amber