“We’ll take them for as long as you need, sweetheart.” Dad hushed her concerns with a wave of his hand and pulled me into an infrequent hug. “Whatever you need us to do.”
Drew and I packed the SUV with enough clothes and toiletries for four days. We didn’t make a hotel reservation. I wanted to stay at the same hotel where Greg registered, but Drew convinced me it would be too macabre. I kissed the girls goodbye with a heavy heart. Instead of having a mother that was present in body, but not in mind, they wouldn’t have a mother around at all. I turned my head when I hugged Hannah so she wouldn’t see my tears.
“Are you going to bring Daddy and Cody back?” Hannah asked.
“I’m going to try, Hannah-banana.” I felt a pang of guilt, knowing that even if I figured out what happened to Greg, Cody most likely wasn’t with him.
“I love you,” Hannah said.
“I love you more,” I whispered. I kissed Leah, cupping her small head against my shoulder.
As Drew backed the SUV out of the driveway, I watched Mom usher the kids into the house, probably singing brightly to keep their attention. They’d forget I was gone in no time at all. I had to believe that.
We rode in silence. I had no words in me—a recurring issue lately. I’d lost the ability to function in the real world, to make small talk with the grocery store clerk or the mailman. Some of the neighbors had heard about Greg’s disappearance. Pastor Joe had come over earlier on Sunday to say he had prayed for us. I thanked him, but had nothing else to add. After a lengthy pause, he began to shift his weight uneasily, then asked if we needed anything before he left, hurrying down the walk.
I didn’t know if my continued silence came from grief, fear, or anger, but I knew I radiated hostility. I felt completely ill at ease having a conversation at all, as if I might accidentally blurt, “Greg didn’t leave us,” during any conversation. I was so afraid of appearing desperate and reinforcing the image of a woman whose husband would pick up and leave without even a goodbye. Since desperation filled my thoughts, I kept them in, hidden from the world. Instead of projecting the image of a calm, pulled-together woman handling a crisis, I came off brittle, fragile, tenuous. I didn’t care. I felt as Greg must have with all my incessant questioning–violated and shut off from the world, until my only choice was to turn inward. I reveled in sweet silence.
We stopped for gas in Binghamton, right over the New York state line.
After filling the tank, Drew climbed back in the car and clapped his hands with exaggerated brightness. “Okay, what’s our game plan?”
I couldn’t muster the same enthusiasm for the “game.” I shrugged and stared out the window.
He let me sulk for another half-hour, but when we merged onto Route 81, he said, “Listen, Claire. Going to Rochester isn’t the move of a timid or scared woman. If you really are looking for answers, you’re going to have to talk. And you’re going to have to be aggressive. Do you understand?”
I nodded. I didn’t think I had it in me. I wasn’t sure why we were going, or what we were doing. I leaned my head against the window. Outside, the highway zoomed beneath the car, while the bordering evergreens seemed to creep slowly, cementing the scenery with stable, unwavering anchors to the earth. Like Greg.
We checked into the Chariot, across the street from the Fairmont, where Greg had stayed. I followed Drew into the lobby and hung back while he paid and chatted with the desk clerk. The woman smiled with dazzling teeth and checked us in with acrylic nails tapping efficiently on a computer keyboard. I should have interrupted—Oh, no, I’ve got this, Drew—but I couldn’t. I had wanted him there, but irrationally, I resented his presence, his easy manner, his quick smile.
I needed a shower and a few minutes to myself. The rooms were adequate, with a queen-sized bed in each, a television, and internet hook-up, ideal for the business traveler. I couldn’t have cared less, as long as mine was clean.
Under the hot spray of the shower, I realized Drew was right; I needed to be predatory. I searched for the anger I knew was buried under the hopelessness and silence. I needed to channel that fury into a force that would find my husband and the person responsible for splintering our lives. And what if that person was Greg? If he wasn’t already dead, I vowed to kill him myself. By the time I dressed and blow-dried my hair, I felt determined. Or at least, I felt determined to fake determination until I was able to feel it.
I went into Drew’s room through the adjoining door. “Let’s go.”
He was reading a complimentary magazine, lounging on the bed, and he started at my voice. “She speaks!”
“Very funny. Ha, ha. Now get up.”
He saluted and followed me out of the hotel. Without needing to discuss it, we headed to the Fairmont. I asked the clerk at the front desk if Carol Ann was working, and he nodded, then walked into the back room. He returned a minute later with a short, plump, fifty-ish woman in tow.