Page 49 of Count Down

“Alright! You look ready. How do you feel?” I ask the dancers after the last run through.

“We’ve got it!” Daniel announces and Anthony nods along. Ivan holds his thumb up as he drinks from his water bottle. Anna nods and gives a double thumbs up.

“We meet at the theater at 5pm tomorrow. Your costumes should be in your dressing rooms by then. You’ll have plenty of time to get ready before they call us on stage. We can do at least a couple of run throughs while they’re testing sound and lights. Any questions? Need anything?”

Everyone shakes their heads ‘no.’ Then they start packing up and heading out. I shut off the studio lights and lock the door behind us. I slow my pace and let them all get a bit ahead of me. I check my phone. No new texts. I text my father:

Please think about what I said today. I want you and mom to be safe.

I hit send and put my phone in my pocket.

By the time I get outside the studio building, I have to check my phone again. I know my father hasn’t texted back, but it’s an impulse. I check, wishing that he would say something like “we’re taking precautions,” or even “I’ll think about it.” Anything to acknowledge the danger he is in. I look at the text message I sent, when I notice something unusual. There is noDeliveredicon underneath the message I just sent.

I’m afraid of what that might mean. Maybe I’m overreacting, but I decide to call him. The call doesn’t ring and goes directly to voicemail. My hands start shaking. I pull up my mother’s number and call her. Same thing. No ring. Just voicemail.

I hang up and run toward Luca’s car. He jumps out of the car and runs to meet me. He’s looking in the direction I’m coming from, searching for why I’m running. He grabs me and shields me behind him. “What is it? Is someone after you?”

“No, I tried calling my parents. They went straight to voicemail. They might be in trouble.”

Luca’s body relaxes, relieved that I wasn’t in immediate danger. He wraps his arms around me. It’s comforting, but I’m still concerned about my parents. “We should do something. They might be in trouble! Something might have happened to them!”

Luca loosens his hug on me and looks into my face, “They’re okay. I’d know if something had happened to them.”

I’m about to ask him how he would know. He sees the concern still on my face and says, “Do you want to go by their house and check on them? See for yourself?”

I nod ‘yes.’ Luca walks me back to the car. As he pulls away from the curb, I ask “Do you need directions, or do you remember how to get there?”

“I know the way,” he nods.

“Do you really think they’re okay?”

“Yes, but we can still go by and make sure.”

I try to breathe deeply and slow my heart rate while we drive to my old house. It doesn’t make sense that their phones would be off. I doubt they went out to the movies. My father hasn’t been to the movies sinceMaster and Commandercame out.

As we drive down my familiar old road, it feels like ages since I’ve been here. Luca pulls up to the curb in front of our neighbor’s house and it gives me a perfect line-of-sight into my parents’ house. Their cars are in the driveway. The lights are on in the living room and the kitchen.

Luca lowers the passenger-side window a little and shuts off the car. I can hear the TV coming out of the open windows of the living room, but I can’t make out the words. Then I hear a voice, just the tone. I can’t make sense of the words, but I can tell it’s my father asking a question. I hear another voice responding. My mother.

Then I see my father walk from the living room toward the kitchen. Through the kitchen windows I see him even more clearly. He goes to the refrigerator. When he’s done, he heads back to the living room. It feels like an out-of-body experience watching my family from this distance.

I glance at Luca in the driver’s seat. He’s not watching my family, he’s watching me. He looks worried. He’s looking at me and worried about me. He can clearly tell that they’re okay. Why is he worried about me?

“They’re fine,” I say. Luca’s still watching me for something. “What’s up with their phones?” I ask, not expecting an answer.

But Luca gives one. He says it softer than I’ve ever heard him say anything. Like if it were delivered any other way it could injure me. “I think they blocked your number.”

I’m surprised. Then I’m not. It makes sense. But it doesn’t. I hate them. And I miss them.

Luca asks a question, still in his gentle tone. “Do you want to go talk to them?”

“No.”

Slowly, Luca turns the car back on. The car crawls away from the curb as I stare out the window, watching the house fade away.

39

LUCA

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