The waitress came back to the table, placing a thick hand on her curvy hip. “Hi, darlin’. I asked the owner and he said that he went to grade school with Sarah Jordan and she lived just around the corner from here, but she died of cancer awhile back.”
Dennis felt a lump form in his throat and found himself unable to talk. Oh God, what if they were both dead? What if there was no one? What if he was completely alone? His face grew hot and he mumbled that he needed a minute.
The waitress gave him a soft smile. “If it makes you feel any better, Joey said that he thinks Elly Jordan still lives in town here with her husband—his name is Aaron Schuster, he’s a local artist, I’ve been to his shows. Small world! I’ll bring the phonebook over so you can check.”
Dennis gave a sniff and the waitress brought him a dated phone book. Dennis paged through it frantically. Schuster, Schuster … there it was. Aaron and Elly Schuster. He sat back in the booth, dazed and relieved. She existed. She really existed. He had a sister. He had someone. He quickly shoveled pie into his mouth and left the diner, writing “Thank you” on a napkin with a frowning smiley face.
Using the street numbers as a guide, and getting help from an older man cleaning his garage, Dennis found his way to a quaint neighborhood filled with large, clean homes and manicured gardens. Sweet, they’re rich. After hours of walking, he finally found his way to a humbler gray ranch house. He could tell that the grounds of the house had once been pleasant; it was now overgrown with gigantic weeds and crabgrass. Newspapers poured out of the mailbox and the whole place had an air of neglect. Before he stepped onto the porch, he was seized by a paralyzing wave of self-doubt as all the thoughts he had held back on the bus rushed forth. She’ll hate you. She’ll probably laugh in your fat face and tell you to get the hell out of here, you know why? Because you’re a loser. A big, pathetic, stupid loser who came across the country in need of charity. What will you have to talk about? He shook his head. What the hell was he doing? She wouldn’t want to see him. Who would? Dennis felt his hands shake. Perhaps there was a bridge somewhere in this charming town…. As he turned to go, the front door opened.
“Um, yeah, can I help you?”
He turned around. The hottest woman he had ever seen in his life was standing in the doorway. She was long and lean, wearing nothing more than a lace tank top with a pair of navy panties. Panties! Dennis Trager was seeing a live woman in panties! Her dark, twisty red hair flowed over her pale shoulders and her emerald eyes narrowed to slits as she took in his dirty pants and large gut. Oh God, was this his sister? She looked like the girl on the cover of his book who was straddling a dragon. “Um, um,” he stammered.
She tucked her hair behind her ear angrily. “Are you selling something?”
He shook his head no, unable to find his voice and unable to look away from the panties.
A loud male voice boomed out from inside the house. “Who is it?”
“Some weirdo who can’t talk apparently!” she yelled back, frowning at Dennis.
Dennis cleared his throat and he grasped for Sarah Jordan’s letter in his pocket. Get the letter out, get the letter out…. “I’m um, I … I’m looking for Elly Jordan?”
“Ugh,” the woman growled and gave an eye roll. “Aaron! It’s someone for Elly. What the …?” She slammed the door in Dennis’s face, and from inside the house he could hear yelling.
The door yanked open and an exhausted-looking man smiled down at Dennis. He had once been extremely good-looking, with a chiseled jaw and perfectly tousled brown hair, as far as Dennis could tell, but he looked world-weary. His large hands were stained with oil paint. “Sorry about that. I’m not sure why she opens the door in her underwear. She’s a little crazy. You are looking for Elly?”
Dennis nodded and clutched his hand around Sarah Jordan’s note.
The man sat down on the front step. “Elly doesn’t live here anymore. We’re uh, divorced.” He sighed deeply and ran his hands through his long hair. “My fault. I cheated on her.” He gestured inside to where Dennis could spy the hot redhead guzzling from a wine glass.
I can see why, he thought. “Does she still live in town here, or …?”
The man laughed and leaned back. “Oh, no, she is long gone.”
Oh God. Dennis’s stomach compressed solidly like someone had punched him. He was close to fainting, something his father always did. “Um, is she … dead?” His voice raised three decibels, and he was dangerously close to sobbing in front of this kind stranger. Oh no, oh please….
“No, buddy, she’s not dead. She just moved to St. Louis. She owns a florist shop there and is pretty successful, from what I can tell.”
Dennis sat down on the step. “Mothertrucker.” He unfolded the note and gave it to the man. “I’m Dennis.”
“I’m Aaron.” Aaron silently read the note and handed it back to Dennis. “Wow. So … you are Elly’s brother? She didn’t even know that she had a brother! And you’re trying to find her?”
Dennis nodded.