Never Coming Back
My parents left Friday evening for an overnight stay at a hotel for their 10th anniversary. My mom dressed up in a skinny strapped black satin dress. It clung to her hips and fell just above her ankle. I sat on the edge of her bed as she got ready. She swiped a soft pink lipstick across her lips. I mimicked her as she blotted them on a tissue. She smiled at me in the mirror, then came over and dabbed a bit of the pink on my lips. She wore a long string of pearls that were once her mothers. She spritzed a small amount of a petal soft fragrance on her wrists and behind her ears. She slipped on a satin pair of black pumps. She turned and looked at me, her soft brown curls falling over her shoulders.
“How do I look?” she questioned with a smile. I smiled back and before I could answer my dad whistled from the doorway. I giggled and he winked at me. He was dressed in a nice black suit with a deep green tie. His eyes sparkled as he looked at my mother. He glided into the room and wrapped his arms around her waist. He kissed her gently and they swayed, dancing to music only they could hear.
I watched them with a smile. They swayed back and forth before my dad finally dipped my mom, her smiling up at me. They each kissed my forehead and headed out the door. My mom stopped and turned to me.
“I love you, tender heart,” she whispered. My dad looked back, winked, and mouthed love you, kiddo as he took my mom’s hand and headed down the stairs. I heard the doorbell, followed by the heavy footsteps of Taryn’s doc martens on the hardwood floor. She yelled up the stairs, “I’m ordering pizza for dinner.”
I smiled and hopped off the bed. I walked towards my mom’s vanity and sat in the tufted chair. I put on her fanciest rings and sprayed my wrists with her perfume. I threw a silk scarf around my neck and stood, pushing my hair behind my shoulder. How do I look, I asked my reflection, then danced around the room to music only I could hear.
I was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, followed by the smell of melted cheese. “Dinner!” Taryn yelled up the stairs. I pulled the scarf off my neck and the rings from my fingers and ran down the stairs. I hopped up on the stool at the island and Taryn slid me a piece of melty cheese pizza with black olives. I lunged for the slice and Taryn quickly reminded me it was hot, and to be careful.
“Wanna watch a scary movie?” she asked, a coy smile on her face.
“I’m not supposed to,” I replied. “Mom and dad say they’ll give me nightmares.”
“Nine seems like you’re totally old enough to watch them,” she replied. “If you ask me. But if you’re not big enough …”
Her words trailed off. She was still smiling at me from the side of her mouth.
“Hey!” I stammered, my mouth full of pizza. “I’m totally big enough.”
She smiled and picked up our plates of pizza, heading to the living room. I trailed behind, a little uneasy and nervous. I wanted to be big enough to not be afraid of a scary movie but deep down, I knew I’d have nightmares. I took a deep breath and plopped on to the couch, trying to keep my greasy fingers off the material.
Taryn opened the DVD player and stuck in a copy of The Gate. She turned to me and with a wry smile and plopped down on the couch next to me. She plucked us each another piece of pizza and hit play on the remote.
Halfway through and I was buried in a blanket. Every time I closed my eyes, I pictured my dad pulling his own face off, green goo sliding down his body, just like in the movie. Taryn, trying to convince me everything would be okay in the end kept the movie playing. She was right because, of course, movies usually end on a decent note, not an awful one. Still, every time I closed my eyes, I was filled with terror.
I begged Taryn to sleep in my bed with me instead of the guest room. I was convinced that there were people in the walls and terrors under my bed. Taryn felt awful and agreed to stay in my room, instead. I don’t know that I slept a wink that night. Every creak in the window from the wind, every time the air kicked on, I shook and woke Taryn up.
By 6 AM we’d both had enough. Taryn stumbled out of bed, me trailing close behind, and started a pot of coffee. She leaned against the island in the kitchen, her head in her hands as her eyes closed. The aroma of coffee swirled around the kitchen, and I sat anxiously waiting for my parents to come home. I knew they said they’d be home around ten, which felt like forever.
Taryn’s head slipped from her hand, and she stood, uneasy. Lazily she pulled opened a cupboard and took a coffee mug from inside. She poured the coffee slowly into her cup and went back to leaning against the island, the cup of coffee cradled in her hands. She took, long, slow sips with her eyes closed. I stared at her, eyes wide and a bit wild from the lack of sleep.
Her eyes slowly opened, and then widened quickly as she caught me staring. Her eyebrows arched, as if to ask a question.
“Can I have some?” I questioned. The smell was intoxicating, and I missed my parents. It made me feel like they were home, and I was safe.
“Um … I mean,” Taryn stammered. “Why not, kid.”
She leaned back into the cupboard, grabbed a cup, and poured. She placed the cup in front of me and I stuck my nose in the warm steam, inhaling deeply. I took a small sip of the bitter brown liquid and quickly spit it back into the cup.
“Gross!” I squealed as Taryn laughed, trying not to spill her cup.
“It’s an acquired taste,” she replied, pulling the canister of sugar towards her. She sifted in a small spoonful and grabbed the milk from the fridge. She poured a bit in my cup and stirred. “Try again.”
With some trepidation, I sipped the creamy liquid. It was delicious! I sipped more and more.
“Slow down, kid!” Taryn laughed. “Enjoy it.” She smiled.
I giggled, the cup cradled in my hands. I slowed down, taking small, deliberate sips.
“Your parents should be home in a bit. What should we do till then?” Taryn asked.
“How about a puzzle? I just got a new one of a pretty horse.” I was hoping she’d say yes.
“Sure, kid,” she replied. “You grab it and get it spread out. I’m going to change, and I’ll be right back down.”
I spread the puzzle out on the kitchen table. I sipped my coffee and waited for Taryn to come back downstairs.
By 11, my parents still weren’t home. I started to get anxious, playing with the puzzle pieces instead of trying to find the places they belonged.
“I’m sure they just got caught up in the excitement,” Taryn commented, her brow furrowed at my concern. “I’m sure they just asked for late checkout.”
By noon, I was pacing the room. “Can we call them, please?” I begged.
Taryn picked up the receiver from the wall and dialed the number of the hotel that my parents had left on the fridge. I watched her face as the phone just continued to ring and ring.
“Looks like no one is at the reception desk,” she said. “Let’s make some lunch and put on a funny movie. I’ll try again in a bit.”
She was trying to hide the nerves rolling around in her mouth, but I caught them. I could feel her anxiety clinging to mine like sand on wet toes. My stomach roiled a bit.
“I’m not hungry,” I whimpered. “I miss my mom and dad.”
She wrapped her arms around me. “I know,” she replied. “They’ll be home soon, I’m sure.”
By 5:00 PM, I was a nervous wreck. Not a phone call. Nothing. There was just nothing. My parents had not come home.
Taryn had called the hotel several times, but the phone just continued to ring and ring. No one ever answered. Finally, she called my aunt Ginny to come and help. No seventeen-year-old should be responsible for a nine-year-old for this long. Especially one as neurotic and freaked out as me.
My aunt Ginny showed up around 7:00 PM. Her bustling energy filled the house along with her musky perfume. I sat in my parent’s room, wrapped up in a blanket with red, swollen eyes and a snotty nose. I couldn’t handle that my parents weren’t home. She knocked on the door and entered slowly.
“Sweetheart,” she whispered. “How are you doing?”
I looked at her, alligator tears filling my eyes. I started sobbing from my toes. “I miss my mom and dad,” I wailed.
She wrapped me up in her arms and rocked me back and forth slowly. She brushed my hair with her soft hands. Her musky scent filled my nose, and I nuzzled deep into her soft cotton scarf.
Taryn stood in the doorway, watching me with a furrowed brow. Ginny glanced at her and motioned for her to go. I’ve got this, she mouthed. Taryn put her hands over her heart and turned slowly to head home.
Once I’d finally fallen asleep, Ginny got to work calling the hotel repeatedly. The phone continued to ring with no answer. By 9:00 PM, she started calling the hospitals in the area, hoping desperately that she wouldn’t find them there.
Lucky for her, my parents were not at any hospital in a three-town radius. Continuing to try the hotel and getting nowhere, she decided to drive there in the morning to see if she could get some answers. She called Taryn and asked if she could come over to watch me again in the morning. With a quiver in her voice, she said she’d be over at 9.
I woke up in my parent’s bed, curled up in a blanket with a splitting headache from crying. Taryn walked in the door, and I started bawling. I knew if she was back, my parents were still nowhere to be found.
“Please don’t cry,” she said, scooping me up in her arms. “Ginny’s going out to the hotel to see if she can figure out what’s going on.”
I looked up at her, eyes swollen and scratchy. “I miss them,” I croaked. “So bad.” My chin quivered and tears welled in my eyes.
“Come on,” Taryn said. “Let’s go have some breakfast and curl up on the couch with a funny movie.”
She reached for my hand. I took it with a small tremble and followed her down the stairs, my blanket still in hand.
I curled up on the couch next to Taryn. I feel asleep at some point and woke up to the smell of Ginny coming through the door. I sprang up off the couch and ran to Ginny.
“Did you find them?” I questioned, my voice high-pitched and anxious.
“Let me talk to Taryn for a minute, sugar,” she replied, my face cupped in her hands.
My eyes welled with tears as I slowly walked over to the couch. I wrapped up in the blanket and watched as they talked. Taryn’s chin quivered and Ginny’s hands shook. I pulled the blanket up over my head and sobbed. I knew they weren’t coming home.
Ginny explained to Taryn that she drove to the hotel and found an old, abandoned building. She called the operator from a payphone outside and confirmed that the abandoned building used to be the hotel but that there had been a fire there 22 years ago and the building still stood condemned. Ginny sat in the phone booth, stunned. She asked the operator about the phone number that just rang and rang, and the operator explained to Ginny that the number was no longer a valid, working number. It should not be ringing at all.
Taryn stared at her in disbelief. “So, where are her parents?” she questioned. “What could have possibly happened to them?”
Ginny shrugged, unable to answer. They both glanced at me, bundled up in a blanket fort, fully aware that my parents were never coming back.
* * *
Ginny sat in the front row at my graduation from Penn State. She videotaped me walking across the stage, accepting my diploma in psychology. She cheered so loudly I was nearly embarrassed. We went out to dinner that night at our favorite Mexican restaurant.
“They’d be proud of you, you know?” Ginny said, a big smile across her face. “I just know they would.’
I smiled as a wave of nostalgia washed over me.
“Do you remember where the hotel was?” I asked. I looked at her with a soft gaze.
Ginny’s eyes widened, uncertain if she’d heard me right. “I’m sorry?” she questioned.
“Do you remember where the hotel was? I never saw the building, where they said they’d gone. I would like to see if. Just to feel them a bit, you know?”
Tears welled in Ginny’s eyes. Her brow furrowed with a bit of concern. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she said. “It may not even be there now. It was so long ago. They may have torn the building down by now.”
“Still, I’d like to know where it was.”
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand a little. “Sure thing,” she replied with a wistful smile.
Sunday morning, I drove myself out to the address of the abandoned building site. I pulled up in front of the decrepit building and a chill ran down my spine. A small breeze drifted from the building and filled my nose with the scent of mold and musty wood. I breathed deeply, longing to feel my parents around me once again. I knew they’d come here that night.
I opened my eyes to find the bright morning sky was now the deep purple of dusk. Disoriented and confused, the decrepit building I had been staring at was now a brightly lit and full of life hotel. Music drifted out through the gold filigree doors as a doorman held the door open towards me. He smiled and tipped his hat, then gestured for me to come inside.
Intrigued, I got out of my car and went towards the man. I was certain I had to be hallucinating but something pushed me forward. I stepped through the doors and the petal soft scent of my mother filled my nose. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.
From behind me, I heard the soft, calm voice of my mother whisper “I missed you, tender heart.”
I turned so quickly I nearly fell over. There she was - a vision in black. My eyes welled with tears. My heart felt like it might explode. My father sauntered over, his suit fresh and crisp. He wrapped his arm around my mother’s waist and winked at me. “Hi, kiddo.”
I stood, frozen and certain this couldn’t be real. I reached out to touch them, terrified I’d wake up from this beautiful dream. My hand grazed my mother’s and I let out a small howl. Her skin was soft and warm and perfect. She pulled me in to her, wrapping her arms around me tightly. I breathed in her scent and sobbed. My dad brushed his hand along my hair, and we swayed to the music.
* * *
The police found my car three days later after Ginny reported me missing. It looked as though it had been there for years. It was rusty and dented and the leather seats were sun bleached. Ginny was dumbfounded. The police searched for me for months before my case, along with my parent’s went cold. Sometimes, when Ginny sits on her front porch in the muggy, summer air, she can hear the music, too.
