Moonlit

thirty

When I had expected a bald man with a rounded belly and a beer in his clutch, it startled me when a woman of about thirty answered the door, a red-lipped, forced smile set on her face. She was wearing a white tank top that hugged tightly at her defined curves, her blue eyes questioning as they ran past our faces. 

"Can I help you?" she asked, her accent thick.

Neither Jake nor I had said anything, most likely because we were in some state of shock. I looked at Jake, and he turned to me blankly. Then I let out something between a laugh and a sigh of relief. "Your father has some nice breasts."

"Excuse me?" Her hand instinctively reached up to cover her chest in disgust. Not waiting for an answer, she went to slam the door.

Jake jammed his foot between the door and its frame, stopping it from shutting. "Sorry about my girlfriend; she's just tired. We haven't slept for a while."

"What do you mean? We just slept during the plane trip here—"

"I'm sorry, is there a Thomas Moon here?" Jake interjected.

The woman remained uncertain, her eyes lingering on me, but after thinking about it she answered with, "Thomas Moon? The name does sound familiar ... maybe he's a distant relative, or—ROB, DO WE KNOW A THOMAS MOON?"

A male voice travelled from somewhere inside the house. "He was the bloke that owned the house before us!"

The lady turned back to us. "He was the bloke that owned the house before us. What do you need 'im for?"

Jake and I exchanged a stunned glance. He doesn't live here anymore.

"Uh, he's—" Jake tried to find the right words, but then rethought it. "Um. Doesn't matter. Ava Moon lived here too. Do you happen to have her number?"

She sighed impatiently, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Give me a moment," she dug for her phone in her pocket before pulling it out. "Never get a night alone with my husband anymore ..." she said under her breath, shoving the phone in our faces to read. "You're lucky I keep my old contacts."

I could barely believe it. I could almost hear Jake's breathing stop short next to me. The name Ava Moon and a mobile number were present on the tiny screen.

It shouldn't have been this important, but it was glaring in our faces after Jake's three years of unavailable contact with his sister, and here it was now.

Jake's mouth fell agape. "Wow ... Wow," he mumbled, shaking his head. Then he blinked, and he got onto his phone, saving the number with slightly trembling hands. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he breathed. He breathed like he had the world on his shoulders, and at any time, it would collapse on him. 

"Thank you," he said after a moment. "It means a lot."

And then the goodbye was kind of awkward, and we found ourselves sitting on the edge of their driveway not long after.

I picked at a blade of grass. He gawked at the number. We both sighed in different ways.

"So," he said. "So."

I averted my eyes to him. "So, we should probably call her."

"Probably." But he didn't move a muscle, and we stayed silent for another drawn-out minute.

"So," he said again.

"We should really call her." He didn't reply, so I went back to tearing the grass in two.

Silence. Then more.

"So—"

"Give me the damn phone." Snatching the device out of his hand, I pressed the call button before I could think it through.