I start to think about Jen and my life back home as I pack my suitcase in the afternoon.
On a hunch, I grab my phone and call my friend.
I want to make sure things are all right, and I also feel guilty because I’ve spent this time away from them.
“Hey,” she says in a strained voice.
My smile drops.
“Jen?”
It’s not like I don’t recognize her voice. What baffles me is the tension in her tone.
“Yeah. Can I talk to you later?” she says in a clipped voice, which is not like her.
I don’t have time to give her an answer as she hangs up on me.
A shudder of panic barrels through me.
This is definitely not like her.
I stop packing and lower myself to the edge of the bed, scrolling through the phone numbers on my contact list.
First, I check the time in LA. It’s morning over there. She’s not at work. She can’t be. I don’t think so.
My heart beats fast, and I wish I wasn’t so nervous, but something doesn’t feel right.
I call my aunt. She doesn’t answer. I call Stella. She doesn’t answer either.
That’s probably not a good move. She might be with my father, and I don’t want to talk to him right now.
I try Edith again.
Her phone rings and rings.
Most people I know have their phones turned off on Sunday morning. It’s the only time of the week when there is no reason to pick up every call that makes it through.
Maybe she’s, um… I can’t come up with an explanation.
What does my aunt usually do on Sunday mornings? She normally cooks breakfast or brunch. Then, she meets with her friends in the afternoon.
That’s strange. Where is Tina?
Is she with Jen or my aunt? Are they together?
I don’t think so.
Has Jen moved back home?
That’s a possibility.
In that case, Tina is with Edith, and they must be doing something together.
Somehow, I manage to reason with myself and calm myself down.
“Would you like a snack before leaving?” Maria asks from the doorway, holding a plate of snacks.
“Yes, sure. Thank you.”