Page 92 of Totally Shipped
“I appreciate it, but I’ll do it. They’ll want to speak to Keyara immediately. Thanks, John.”
“Good point. Fuck, it’s good to hear your voice man. Can we help in any way? It’s a ten hour ferry ride from here to where you are, but I can get on the morning service.”
“No need. Seeing as Nanda and Nikau are in Missouri, we’ll head there ASAP. Daisy’s folks are there, too.”
“Daisy?”
“I gotta go, speak soon,” I tell him.
I dial the country code for the USA, then add the only phone number Meemaw has had for as long as I was born, and probably much longer.
After several rings, someone picks up.
The voice is not one that I expected.
“Thomas Malone here.”
The voice is flat, instructing the caller on the important person they are speaking to. It’s not friendly or encouraging. If I were a tele-sales person, I’d hang up and not bother trying again with this number.
“Dad?”
Tough Love’s flat voice suddenly has another ounce of emotion. It's foreign to my ears.
“R-R-Rex? How?”
“It’s a long story, but I’m alive. We were rescued yesterday. Are Nanda and Nikau there? Is Meemaw OK? ”
“Where are you?”
“American Samoa, at the medical center—is Nanda there? I have Keyara, she’s safe and sound. Can I speak to her?”
“Are you staying in the South Pacific, or coming back to the States?”
“Nothing has been decided yet, Dad. Can you just get me Nanda or Nikau if they’re there?”
There is silence for a moment, then Nikau is on the line. Once again, I have to convince a very put-out husband that I am not some dick trying to pull a prank.
“Nikau, it really is me. I just spoke to John at your old house! I have Keyara with me.”
The noise I hear through the phone line sounds like a dying animal, gasping, screaming, and moaning all at once. I gesture to Gray, and he goes to the door to usher Killian and Keyara back into the room.
“Key, sweetheart, I’ve got someone who wants to speak to you.”
I press the phone to the side of her head.
“Hello?” she says in a small voice, then bursts into rapid Samoan, crying and laughing at the same time. “Tama! Tama! Na ou misia oe!”
Tears pour down her cheeks, her bottom lip is trembling. I have to help her hold the phone receiver. I don’t think any of us realized how much Key has been holding it together.
“Mami!” she screams.
After a few minutes I take the phone back. It’s Nanda on the line.
“We are in American Samoa,” I tell her, “at the Medical Center in Faga'alu.”
“We’ll leave for the airport and get a flight immediately,” she tells me decisively.
“No, no. We’ll fly to the States, and we’ll bring her to you. Can you wait just a couple of days? I imagine we’ll come into St. Louis or Columbia. It won’t be long, I promise.”
