All of Me

eleven • sick day

• • •

Mom's sitting at the kitchen table with her glasses high up on her nose, her eyes trained so intensely on her laptop screen that she doesn't hear me until I walk in front of her and say good morning, and she snaps her head up like I've caught her doing something illicit. I already saw the article about Maggie on her screen.

"Any news?" I ask as I fill a glass with water. I feel a lot better today. I love working and earning but it was so good to have yesterday off. Getting home at six rather than after ten made a world of difference, from eating with Mom and Tad, to Gray and me being able to get a start on the essay that's due in a few days.

Mom shakes her head. "Nothing. It's been nearly forty hours."

The first forty-eight hours matter the most. I heard that so much back when Dad had only been missing for a few hours, then a day, then nearly two. The police told us – unhelpfully, I thought – that after the first forty-eight hours, the chance of finding anything is slashed in half.

Mom was inconsolable when we hit that point. Then sixty hours. Seventy. Now it's been nearly twenty-thousand hours since I last saw my dad.

"They'll find her," I say. I hope. If there's no news on Maggie as the week goes on, or if she turns up dead, it'll hit too close to home. "She'll be ok, Mom. Just ... don't think about it."

"Her."

"I meant it as in the situation." I sit down opposite her and she shuts her screen.

"I know. Nothing I can do."

"Exactly." When I give her a warm smile, she gives it back to me and she squeezes my shoulder when she stands to refill her juice.

"Such a good head on your shoulders, honey," she says. "I'd be a mess without you. It is strange here when you're out so late."

"At least you have Tad," I say, trying to meet her eye when I mention his name. She's not facing me but I don't miss the slightest twitch of her lip. Elmosolyodik, I think, remembering Kris's word. The start of a smile. When she says nothing, I add, "You guys seem to get on really well."

"We do," she says at last. "He's been absolutely fantastic. I know you two haven't spent much time together but he's a wonderful man."

"I know," I say, and I make sure she sees my smile. If there's even the slightest chance she's ready to move on, or even start to think about it, I'm not going to get in the way of that. It's hard, and I know the reality will hurt more than I think it will when she does let go, but she has to.

"And you and Gray are such good friends," she says. "We got lucky with our neighbors, didn't we?"

"We really did." I nod at the kitchen window. "Speaking of," I say when I see Tad coming over. He waves and smiles when he sees me; I do the same. Mom turns around and her face lights up. Tad lets himself in, a pot of coffee in his hand. I can't confirm it but Mom insists he makes the best coffee. I don't know how when it's all just beans and water.

"Hey, Jen," he says, greeting Mom first. His hand grazes her elbow and he pours her a cup of coffee. Then he looks at me, his expression turning to more of a grimace. "No Gray today, I'm afraid, Storie."

No. That's not right. Gray's supposed to come and eat breakfast and chat away as we drive to college and sit in the background when I meet Liam. My heart squeezes tightly for a second. "Is he ok?"

"He's not feeling great," Tad says. "He'll be fine, but he'll probably be laid up for a couple of days."

That's not part of the plan. It doesn't fit into our routine. I can feel my heart suddenly up its pace as though it's trying to gallop out of my chest. I know I can function without Gray – I did for nineteen years – but now I'm used to his constant presence and I've never spent a moment at college without him.