She was here once, I think. Nina. My sister was in this very room. I breathe in deep, as though some part of her is still here, and if I can catch it with my breath I’ll know all the answers I’ve been looking for. But all I get is the smell of food. My stomach grumbles and I am suddenly very aware of the fact that Sean and I drove straight through dinner.
A woman with gray hair pulled back into a bun walks by with two plates balanced on each arm. “Wherever you like, kids,” she says and motions toward the back of the diner with her chin, like a woman who is used to having her hands full.
Sean starts walking toward a booth in the back, slowly, looking around as he goes. Up at the wooden fans on the ceiling, down at the f lecked linoleum tile floor. We pass a woman in her late twenties with a toddler in a Chicago Bears T-shirt sleeping in her arms, an older couple sitting next to each other, sipping cups of tea, a man in his early thirties, slumped ever so slightly in his seat, his hand poised on his fork, his eyes closed, as though he’s taking a nap but doesn’t want anyone to know about it. Sean sits down in a booth and I slide in across from him. He opens his menu but stares out at nothing. “Sean?” I say.
Sean shakes his head and looks at me. “Sorry.” He smiles again.
A waitress approaches. She’s big and mushy-looking, in a friendly and comforting way, like she’d be nice to hug. Rosie is printed on her name tag. “Hi there, what can I get for you, honeys?” Rosie says.
And I want to answer, “My missing sister, please!” but instead I just reach in my pocket for her photograph. I am suddenly nervous. Sean is staring right at me with his beautiful slate-colored eyes, and when his eyes meet mine, I feel that same flash, now familiar, but still surprising in its intensity and the knot in my stomach loosens. Just a little.
I look up at Rosie. I hesitate for one more second, resting in this moment before I know what she is about to tell me, in this moment where anything is still possible, and then I open my mouth. “I was just wondering if you or anyone who works here might have ever seen this girl.” I put the photograph on the table. Rosie looks down. “I’m trying to find my sister,” I say. “And so I was wondering if you’d ever seen her before. She was here at least once, two years ago.”
As soon as I hear myself say the words, I feel a squeezing in my chest. I got caught up in the excitement of the moment, in the thrill of finding a piece of new information in the credit card statement, in finding someone willing to help me. Coming here, putting all that effort in, really made me feel like we were doing something and therefore were guaranteed to find the next clue. But just because you have sat in the car for hours and hours does not mean you’re going to find anything if there isn’t anything to find. We’re at a diner in the middle of Nebraska where Nina once came two entire years ago. What did I think we’d find? Before Rosie even opens her mouth, I know what the answer is going to be.
“I wish I could help you, hon.” She has taken her glasses from a chain around her neck and put them up on the tip of her nose. She stares down at Nina’s picture, then back up at me. And I feel something inside me sinking. “I can’t say that I remember her. We don’t attract much of a regular customer base out here on the highway. Back when this place first opened, the head waitress was dating one of the bus drivers, so he’d stop in to see her whenever he was passing through, and then it just became tradition for the bus company that does this route to use us as their rest stop. I dare say the only repeat customers we get are the bus drivers and the truckers.” Rosie looks at Nina’s picture one last time and hands it back to me, shaking her head. “It’s a shame. Real pretty girl. Your sister’s missing or something?” She asks this like someone who won’t be surprised at the answer.
“Yeah,” I say. “For two years.”
“Aw, I’m sorry, hon,” Rosie nods. “You two really look alike, you know? If I didn’t know you were looking for her and I saw this picture, I might think this was you. You don’t know where she was headed or anything?”
I shake my head.
“Yeah,” Rosie says. “Guess not or she wouldn’t be missing.”
I look down at the beige Formica tabletop, at the white and green paper Sweetie’s place mat, and I feel my insides squeeze again.
“Is there someone else we could talk to?” Sean asks. “Someone else who might have seen her?”
“Don’t think so,” Rosie says. “Most of the other girls just started. People don’t usually last too long here.”
I nod.
“Can I get you kids anything?”
“Three large iced coffees,” Sean says. “And a grilled cheese.” He closes the menu.
“For you, hon?” I shake my head.
“You sure?” Sean says. “You must be hungry by now.” His voice is soft and sweet, as though my hunger is his concern. He reaches out and takes my hand.
“I’ll have a grilled cheese, too, I guess,” I say. Rosie nods and then walks away.
Sean leaves his hand on top of mine, squeezing rhythmically like a beating heart.