Page 3 of Never Too Late

“Huh, that’s odd. I haven’t either,” Tyler replies, now concerned.

I quickly grab my phone and start to dial Mum’s number. It’s not unusual for her to pick up an extra shift at work, but she always makes sure we know in advance.

When she doesn’t answer, I hurriedly redial her number.

Come on, please, pick up. Pick up.

Straight to voicemail.

Tyler starts to speak, and I notice his voice starting to tremble too. “I’m sure everything’s okay. She’s probably just picked up another shift and her phone died. You know she can be forgetful sometimes. You sit tight, I’ll order the pizzas. I’m sure she’ll be back by the time they come.”

I nod. Unsure of anything else to do or say right now. “Yeah, okay. Cool. I’ll go put a film on for us.” My feet feel heavy as I start to walk towards the television in the living room.

“Cool,” Tyler replies, forcing a smile, probably for my sake.

Time goes by slowly, but before we know it, it’s nine o’clock. Three hours after Mum should have met us in the kitchen.

Both of us have tried Mum’s phone multiple times, all going straight to voicemail.

We’ve glanced at our phones continuously, not paying attention to the film in the background. Both too sick to focus, both too worried to concentrate.

I don't know what else we can do.

Three hours.

Without a thought, I start biting into my lip. It isn’t until I can taste the blood on my tongue that I realise what I’ve done. I ignore the metallic taste in my mouth, tapping on my knee, focusing on the bouncing.

Focusing on anything and everything else I can right now.

We both jump at the noise of the movie going back to the main menu as music starts to play, causing Tyler to swiftly stand, starting to pace back and forth frantically, clutching his phone in a death grip. I’m surprised it hasn’t broken.

Our attention is stolen when the sound of tires crunching on the gravel outside, combined with beaming headlights making their appearance through the living room curtains, has us frozen in place. We glance at each other and the tension in our shoulders starts to release.

“Here she is. Just fashionably late,” Tyler announces as he walks to the microwave, placing Mum’s pizza inside.

Suddenly, there’s an unexpected knock at the door, which has us both staring at one another once more.

“Maybe she left her keys at work? Not the first time she’s done that, either.” Neither of us have the courage to move.

Tyler seems to snap out of it quicker than I do. “Yeah. Probably. Hold on, keep an eye on it so the pizza doesn’t burn, yeah? I’ll go let her in.”

He moves quickly on his feet around the kitchen table, heading towards the door, and I notice myself starting to tremble once more. I don’t hear Mum’s cheerful voice coming through the corridor, nor do I hear her noisy work shoes making their way along the floor.

Something feels wrong.

“Erm, yeah, good evening, officer. Come on in,” I hear Tyler mumble, followed by a deep, gruff voice.

“Thanks, son. Sorry for the intrusion. I’m Officer Tarhio,” an older man replies. I stare at him in confusion as I take in his dark brown beard and dark blue eyes. He makes his way to the kitchen and I notice him slowly taking his hat from his head and holding it against his chest.

Something is definitely wrong.

Dread forms in the pit of my stomach and the two slices of pizza I had earlier threaten to rise.

“Is it just you two lads in the house? Anyone else? Are you waiting for anyone?”

“No, sir. Just us two. We think Mum must have been held up at work, she’s normally home by now. We haven’t managed to get in contact with her. Is there a problem?”

One million and ten questions begin running through my mind and my brain is on overload.

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