Still Air

by Freya Barker

  We part ways at the second intersection where I head north and Gunnar keeps going.

  “Just so you know, my phone is on the kitchen table, I’ll get it Tuesday,” I warn him. “If you want to get hold of me, call the house or Pam’s cell; otherwise I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Bring your appetite,” he says. “She’s been cooking since Christmas.”

  “Always.”

  With a last wave we each trudge on toward the warmth of our family.

  Pam

  I love the smell of JouMou.

  I started last night, putting the beef in the marinade of pureed garlic, scallions, parsley, thyme, shallots, Scotch bonnet chile, lime juice, kosher salt, and black pepper. This morning I pulled it out of the fridge and already the fragrance brought tears to my eyes with memories.

  I would never have done this to myself, if I didn’t want to share some of me with Dino and his family, like they’ve been sharing with me. The therapist in me says it’s probably healthier not to avoid these memory triggers, but the mother in me still wants to duck and hide. I won’t let her though. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that time is too damn short not to suck the marrow out of life at every opportunity. Even with Derrick’s loss still a fresh wound in my heart, one that likely won’t ever completely heal, it also has shown me that there is nothing I can or should take for granted. I’m savoring, even through my grief.

  I’m inhaling the scent of the fragrant stock I just poured over the browned beef in the pan, when Gina walks into the kitchen.

  “Hey, you,” I casually say, as she peeks over the edge of the cast iron pot I brought over for this.

  “Hey,” she replies tentatively. “Smells good, but it looks like a witches’ brew in that pot.”

  “Nah—I only stew my witches’ brew at Halloween,” I joke. “It’s just Soup JouMou today.”

  “I can’t live off soup for dinner,” Jonas pipes up, walking in behind his sister.

  “This isn’t just soup, buddy. This stuff has serious substance. By the time I’m done with it it’ll look more like a ’stoup’.”

  “What’s a ‘stoup’?”

  “Half stew, half soup.” I bite my smile as the two check out the pile of ingredients littering the counter: potato, onion, leek, carrot, squash, turnip, and cabbage. I’m not surprised at the upturned noses, because I remember being less than impressed when I first learned how to make it. I’m pretty confident they’ll love it, though.

  “It’s tradition in Haiti on New Year’s Day to have JouMou. You know Haiti was a French colony, right?” Jonas looks at me with a blank look on his face, but Gina shows a flicker of interest so I forge ahead. “The French actually started bringing in slaves by the thousands to work the sugar cane plantations. In those days, JouMou would be prepared by slaves as a delicacy for their French masters, but they never got to eat it. That changed January first of 1804, when Haiti became independent after beating out Napoleon Bonaparte’s troops in the Haitian Revolution. That day is celebrated by the Haitian people by eating JouMou.”

  “Cool,” Jonas says, having perked up at the mention of Napoleon Bonaparte.

  “So you’re from Haiti?” Gina asks in a timid voice, but interest shines in her eyes.

  “My mother was. I was born in the U.S.,” I enlighten her. “But between my mother and my grandmother, they made sure I’d never forget my heritage.”

  “What about your father?”

  I look at Gina, who seems a little embarrassed by her own question as she glances back from under her thick lashes, and decide to be honest. I turn back to my soup and start in an even voice; “My father was a drug addict. Mom met him at a low point in her life, and he was around just long enough to create me. Every now and then, he would come around as I was growing up. My grandmother did most of the work, raising me.”

  “That’s fucked up,” Jonas says after a pregnant silence.

  “Pretty much,” I agree with a snort. “Old news, though. They’re all gone now and just like my grandmé taught me, I just make my JouMou every New Year’s.”

  “And the smell makes me hungry,” he says, like a typical man-child, moving straight to what’s important; his stomach. “Any chance I can have a little sampler?” The cheeky grin on his face makes me laugh.

  “Not a chance in hell, boy. This has at least two hours of simmering to do before I’ll let you anywhere near it.”

  “Bummer. I’ll be upstairs—starving—until then,” he announces with dramatic flourish before stalking out of the kitchen.

  Gina has been quiet throughout the exchange, and appears to follow her brother out of the room when she stops in the doorway and turns around.

  “I’m sorry they’re all gone,” she says quietly, looking a little embarrassed. I struggle to keep the emotion from my face and words.

  “Yeah, I am too, honey. I am, too.” I decide to take it a little further. “And I’m sorry what you are dealing with as well, Gina. I’m sure that can’t be easy, either. I know you don’t particularly like me, and that’s okay—I get it—but I’m aiming to stick around. I’m done losing people I care about.”

  Gina doesn’t say anything, she just nods, turns, and disappears from sight. I turn toward the window where the night has already set in but I can still see the snow coming down steadily.

  -

  I pull out the Pain, a Haitian bread with a hint of coffee and nutmeg, and give the JouMou a final stir. Throwing a kitchen towel over the bread to keep it warm, I finish setting the table, and take a look at the clock. Depending on how busy they got at The Skipper tonight, Dino shouldn’t be too much longer.

  I’m pretty hungry; the few raw carrots I chewed on earlier did little to satisfy me, and the kids are likely famished as well by now. Rather than wait for Dino, maybe we should have a bite now. When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I can hear music drifting down from upstairs.

  “Guys! Come and get it!” I holler up, hearing some movement in response before Jonas’ head appears at the top of the stairs.

  “Dinner ready?” he asks with a big grin on his face.

  “Yup. Get your sister, will you? I don’t think she heard me with the music on.” Jonas salutes me before his head disappears again. I head back to the kitchen to put on the finishing touches.

  The next thing I know, footsteps come pounding down the stairs and Jonas rushes into the kitchen.

  “She’s gone,” he says a little out of breath.

  “Sorry?” I shake my head slightly, sure I’ve misheard him.

  “Gina—she’s not in her room.”

  It takes one glance at the stricken look on his face to know he’s dead serious and my feet start moving. I rush past Jonas and up the stairs, his footsteps following behind me. Her room is empty and I immediately rush to the window, which looks to be locked tight. A quick look outside shows the weather hasn’t let up yet. It’s still coming down.

  “She would’ve gone out Dad’s window,” Jonas pipes up from the doorway, and this time he leads the way as we rush to the master bedroom. The door is closed but when he throws it open the cold air hits us. I rush past him to the window that’s been left open a crack. I cup my hands against the glass and peer out into the night. The roof of the small porch, in front of the house, is right below the window.

  “It’s easy to get down there,” Jonas admits, a slight blush on his cheeks. “I’ve used it before. I just didn’t know she knew about it.”

  “Call her phone,” I order him, as I shut the window all the way and dive into Dino’s walk-in closet to grab a sweater or something. I’m going out to look.

  “She’s not answering,” Jonas says. “I’ll try Dad.”

  I pull an old hoodie over my head. The thing hangs halfway down my thighs but is warm. I try to ignore the panic building, as I turn to find Jonas looking at me with worry on his face.

  “He’s not answering either.”

  “Maybe he’s on his way home,” I try to reassure him. “Do you have the n
umbers for any of her friends?” That gets a shake of his head and I walk past him back to her room.

  A search of her desk and nightstand doesn’t result in anything helpful, and with Jonas close on my tail I head downstairs. Halfway there, I stop in my tracks and he bumps into my back.

  “Benji,” I whisper, half to myself and half to Jonas, before double-timing it the rest of the way, grabbing my phone from my purse on the counter. I hit Sarah’s number.

  “Is Benji there?” I barge right in when she answers, not bothering with niceties.

  “Benji? He went out to a friend’s house for a bit—why?” I feel bad about worrying Sarah, who has enough on her mind, but the thought of Gina out in this weather alone is enough to make the blood freeze in my veins. I don’t even want to think about how Dino’s going to feel when he gets here.

  “Gina slipped out on me,” I confess. “From an upstairs window. She’s still grounded. I thought maybe she was planning to meet with Benji, can you call him to see if she’s with him?” Sarah promises to call me right back and I turn off the burner underneath the soup.

  “You stay here,” I instruct Jonas. “I’m taking my phone and will stay in touch, but I’ve gotta go look for her.” I grab my boots from the closet and start pulling them on when my phone rings.

  “He’s not answering,” Sarah says, out of breath.

  “Okay, keep trying. I’m going out there to look. Stay in touch.” I end the call and tuck my phone in my pocket, looking up to find Jonas looking scared.

  “What if...?” he starts. I stop him with a sharp shake of my head.

  “Don’t go there. Trust me, it’s useless. She hasn’t taken anything but whatever clothes she was wearing. She’s probably just out meeting up with some friends. The two little shitheads that tried to take us down are still locked up, along with the gang leader. We haven’t heard anything to the contrary, so there’s no reason to let your mind go there.” I can see from the marginal relief on his face, I guessed his concerns correctly. Only because my mind wanted to wander in that direction too.

  “Keep trying your sister and your dad,” I tell him, pulling him into a quick, somewhat awkward hug. “I’ll check in.”

  With that I pull open the door, pull my hood tight over my head, and walk out into a virtual blizzard.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Dino

  I didn’t think it would take me this long, but the deep snow makes it feel like you’re trudging through mud. It doesn’t help that I stopped twice to help drivers stranded in the deep ruts of other motorists. The last one was an elderly lady, who was unable to get out of the bank of snow, pushed up in the middle of an intersection. That one almost took fifteen minutes to get dislodged. I advised her against trying to make it home but she was adamant. I reluctantly let her drive off, watching as the back end of her car swerved from side to side as she tried to negotiate the corner.

  I turn onto my street when I find my feet suddenly moving fast, despite the frostbite I’m sure I’ve acquired. From a distance I can see almost all the lights on in the house, which calms me a little. I know Pam is there, keeping an eye on the kids. I’m already looking forward to the warm meal waiting. I’ve never had JouMou before, but did some research on it and it sounds fucking amazing.

  I’m still walking on the driveway when the door opens and Jonas steps out on the porch. The look on his face has a cold fist of fear infiltrate my chest.

  “Gina’s taken off, Dad,” he blurts out when I’m still a few steps away.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, as I walk by him into the hallway.

  “She’s not here. Pam asked me to call her down for dinner and her room was empty. She went out the window in your room—left it open a bit.”

  “Where’s Pam?” I call over my shoulder as I march down the hall to the kitchen.

  “Out looking.” I swing around to find Jonas has followed me in. “We tried calling you, Dad. I’ve been trying your phone and Gina’s for the past half-hour.”

  “Fuck! I knew I should’ve gone back to grab it. I left it on the kitchen table at the pub.”

  Instead of getting warmer, I can feel the cold spreading from my chest out. I’m only half listening to Jonas as I try to remember Gunnar’s number, when something he says catches my attention. Benji.

  “What did you say?”

  “Pam tried to get a hold of Benji. Apparently, he’s not answering his phone either.”

  Fucking hell. When I get my hands on Gina, I’m going to lock her in her room until she’s fucking thirty years old.

  “Dad,” Jonas’ soft voice penetrates my anger. “Something’s been up with her for a while, you...”

  “Bud,” I interrupt him. “We need to find her first. Everything else comes after.” I feel bad for snapping at him but I need to focus on one thing at a time.

  Trying a few wrong numbers first, I finally get hold of Gunnar, who sounds like he just ran a marathon.

  “Not even fucking home yet, Dino,” he says when he answers the phone.

  “Keep your eyes open. Gina is missing and Pam’s gone looking. I’m heading out there myself with Jonas’ phone, since I left mine at the fucking pub. Can you take down his number?” I pass on Jonas’ number and tell him my son will stay by the home phone.

  “Let me come look with you, Dad,” Jonas says when I get off the phone.

  “Someone’s gotta be here by the phone or in case she shows up. Keep trying her phone from the landline, Son. I’ve gotta take yours with me. Pam’s out there and so is Gunnar.” I pull a pair of snow boots from the hall closet and kick off my sopping wet shoes and socks. My damn toes are bloodless with cold. “Can you run up and get me a pair of dry socks?”

  Jonas is back in seconds, handing me a pair of his tube socks that feel nice and warm when I pull them on. I toss off my jacket and grab the goose down one I was wishing I’d been wearing all the way home.

  “Call me if you hear anything from anyone, okay?” I grab my boy around the neck and give him a quick hug, kissing his forehead. “I’ll keep in touch. Love you, kid.”

  I walk back into the deepfreeze, wondering if I’d remembered to tell Gina I loved her this morning when I left. I hope I did.

  I try to keep my mind busy, thinking about all the places she might have gone, to keep from letting myself worry about her well-being. I’m not sure how I’d be able to survive if something happened to her. I know she sometimes hangs out at the high school or the library across the street, but that is during the day. Still, it’s the first location I’m going to check out.

  I pull Jonas’ phone from my pocket and dial Pam’s number.

  “Did you hear anything?” Pam answers, and I hear the shiver in her voice.

  “It’s me. Where are you?”

  “Oh thank God, Dino. I’m so sorry. She was upstairs, I never thought to check on her. I didn’t realize...”

  “Pam,” I stop her ramble, repeating myself. “Where are you?”

  “I’m on Cumberland, just crossing Franklin. I’ve searched the neighborhood around the school, since that was closest, but I’m heading toward the cemetery now. I know sometimes kids like to shoot off fireworks from there on New Year’s Eve.” Pam sounds like her teeth are chattering from the cold.

  “Peppermint Park,” I half mutter to myself.

  “What’s that?”

  “Peppermint Park is where Benji tried to get her to meet him before. Do you know where it is? It’s not much more than a kid’s playground with a couple of benches. You should be just a few blocks away. It’ll be on your right side, but wait for me to get there. I don’t want you going in alone. Stay under the streetlights.” I should feel guilty for hanging up right after barking out instructions, but I don’t want to give her a chance to object. Not that it really matters; knowing Pam she’ll do exactly what she feels is necessary, whether I like it or not. That’s why I’m going as fast as I can, walking in the street rather than on the sidewalk. It’s a little faster, since at s
ome point a plow must’ve come through.

  I can’t believe Gina took off like that. What the hell was she thinking? Thirteen years old, and roaming the streets. If it were any other kid, I’d be wondering where the hell her parents were. But this was my kid—my good-natured, gentle, and easy child. What the fuck happened? Granted, the past year has been a rough one, for her as well, clearly more so than I’d picked up on. Maybe I shouldn’t have given her back her phone, but I don’t like the idea of not being able to reach the kids while I’m at work. Except I never called.

  While I was dealing with Jeannie, then Jonas, and finally Pam, I hadn’t been paying attention to my daughter, assuming that she would bounce her way through life like she usually does. Suddenly find myself at a loss. Disconnected. What kind of a parent does that make me?

  Guilt and remorse eats at me as my feet, much warmer now, plod through the snow.

  I don’t know if it’s my imagination or not, but it seems like the snow is tapering off a little as I pass by the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception. Just a short two blocks before I hit the park.

  Of course there is no Pam to be seen.

  Pam

  He’s gonna be pissed.

  Well, technically he is already pissed, judging by the tone of his voice. I don’t blame him. I’d be angry if the roles were reversed as well. He entrusted me with his kids and I fell down on the job. Not the first time either.

  My lungs are burning with the effort, but I get to the small park in record time. For some reason, I keep thinking that time is of the essence. I’m terrified I’ll be too late and miss her somehow. Not that this is not a shot in the dark, like checking the high school was, but I had to try. I still think the cemetery is the more likely place, but I can’t be sure.

  Peppermint Park it is.

  There are houses on either side of the park and the street side is pretty open. Toward the back, behind the slides, is a densely treed strip separating the playground from whatever lies behind. It’s there I spot some movement, right inside the tree line. I stop at the edge of where the streetlamp casts its light and stare at the spot, waiting for another movement. Although the snow has slowed down, the wind is still blowing; between that and the muffling qualities of the new blanket of snow, making it hard to hear anything.