"Melody?" Grace asked when she answered the phone. Her voice was still not that of the strong, capable woman Melody had seen in the few hours they'd shared together before Emma had died. The woman on the other end of the line was still barely holding on, nearly a month later.
"I'm so sorry to call," Melody said, her voice thick with tears.
"What's wrong?" Grace's voice now held a tinge of panic.
"Dylan and I … we went to visit your father," Melody confessed.
"Oh." Grace sounded both shocked and not. "He said that he might, the last time I spoke with him, but I didn't … God, I really didn't believe he'd do it."
"I pushed him," Melody confessed in a rush, all her guilt bubbling over. "I thought it would be good for him, that he needed it so he could get closure, but I'm afraid I made a terrible mistake. He got really upset after the visit, and we went out, and...and now he's gone, and I don't know where he went."
Melody purposefully edited out the more exciting part of Dylan's daring escape. She already felt awful for dumping this new worry on Grace's fragile shoulders. The poor woman had been through enough, but she also happened to be Melody's best shot at finding out where Dylan had gone to lick his wounds.
"Slow down," Grace advised. "First off, you did the right thing. Dylan's never addressed the pain he feels about dad leaving, and he's been working to bury that pain ever since. I'm glad you were there to give him that extra push, but he's stubborn and he's so used to keeping people away that it can be almost impossible to help him."
Melody felt an aching kinship with Grace in that moment. They both loved Dylan, every faulted, complicated, imperfectly perfect piece of him. Grace had been trying to save him a lot longer than Melody had; she could imagine his sister regretfully leaving Dylan to his own devices when her daughter's health had become her top priority. Was that how Dylan had gotten so lost in the end? Because his sister had been forced to let go of her end of the rope?
"Do you have any idea where he might have gone?" Melody asked quietly. "We're only a few miles from your hometown."
"He and Jesper had a few spots where they'd always go, but they kept to themselves," Grace said. "I was the bad guy, remember? The stick in the mud who made him do his homework and prevented him from knocking up teenage girls before he had a chance to graduate."
"I should call Jesper," Melody guessed.
"I'll make some calls to a few friends who are still around those parts," Grace offered. "But please, Mel, let me know as soon as you find him."
"I promise," Melody said, though deep in her heart, a terrible, nagging fear was growing-a fear that she might not be able to find him in time.
She dialed Jesper's number as soon as she hung up with Grace. In an attempt to make herself sound normal, she sniffled and wiped her face with a napkin she'd found in her purse. However, it was all for naught-the phone rang a few times before transferring her to his voice mail. She left a brief, horribly garbled message that ended up sounding something like, "Help Dylan gone fucking Oklahoma kill his dad."
Next, she called Tank. His phone didn't even go to voice mail. She got an automated message that told her the mailbox of the cellular customer she was trying to reach was full. Frustrated tears filled her eyes as she scrolled through her phone and glared at the only number she had left to try.
Rip answered on the third ring.
"Well, if it isn't Yoko," he drawled.
"We've got an emergency," Melody said, steeling herself for the ensuing conversation.
"What happened?" he asked, now sounding tense.
"Dylan … something happened with his father. I don't know what."
"Why don't you know?" Rip asked.
Again, guilt gnawed at Melody. She had fled from an awkward situation, and Dylan had paid the price for it.
"I was at the store," she muttered. "His dad didn't have any food in the house. I don't know what they said to each other, but when I got back, Dylan was … not Dylan."
"What the hell does that even mean?" Rip asked.
He didn't care about me anymore. It was such a pathetic thing to say that Melody couldn't bring herself to do it. She held the words and the feelings inside, fending off the fresh wave of tears that threatened to overwhelm her.
"All he wanted to do was drink and screw-" she started, but Rip cut her off.
"Only a woman would think that was strange."
"It wasn't just that," she snapped. "He was insensible. Lost. He kept muttering about how he was a disease and how he ruined everything he touched."
"It's just the liquor talking," Rip said, but his voice was beginning to sound worried again.
"He threw himself out of our rental car on the highway as we were heading for the airport," Melody continued. "I tried to find him, but … he's just gone. And I don't know where he's gone. I'm so terrified he might … that he might … "
She couldn't bring herself to say the words out loud. It was a childish belief that saying them would give them power.
Rip let out an impressive string of curse words. "I was afraid this would happen. You ended up pushing him too far, and now look what happened," he accused.
"I didn't," Melody started to protest, but again, Rip interrupted her.
"Go make things right with your dad," he mimicked in a falsetto. "Quit your drinking, which is the only coping mechanism you've ever had for your bullshit," he mocked.
"That's enough," Melody seethed, the tears in her eyes now burned with anger. "Everything I've done for Dylan has been with his best interests in mind. He wasn't okay before, Rip. He was drowning, and if you couldn't see that, it's only because you didn't want to see it."
"Don't you dare tell me I don't know him," Rip shot back. "I know him a hell of a lot better than you ever will."
"That's why I'm calling you!" she screamed, unable to contain herself anymore. "He's lost and alone, and I can't help him, but maybe you can. I don't care which one of us knows him better. I don't care who's right and who's wrong. I just care about him being safe. I love him so much that I'm having this pointless fucking conversation with you."
Rip was silent for a minute. "I don't know where he'd go in Oklahoma," he confessed quietly. "Jesper might."
"I already called Jesper," she said heavily.
"Yeah, he's been Skyping with his girl," Rip said. "I'll talk to him. Just … stay calm all right? We'll find Dylan and he'll be okay, and we'll all give him shit for pulling that stupid stunt. In the meantime, if you can think of somewhere else to look, do it. And if you do find him, try not to piss him off again."
"Fine," Melody said stiffly, because she was about to start crying again and her tear ducts were exhausted. "Call me when you know something. Please." The ‘please' almost killed her, but being left in the dark because Rip was an asshole would have been much worse.
Rip hung up without another word. Melody stared down at the phone for a minute. Then her gaze moved to the glove compartment. It had fallen open in the chaos of the car spinning out of control. The map they'd been given at the airport was laying face-up on the passenger seat. There, glaring at her, was the big black circle around the shithole town where everything had gone so drastically wrong. Within the circle was another dot, indicating his childhood home.
It looked like Melody was going to get tangled up with Blue all over again.
12
The bag of groceries was still hanging on the doorknob. The air was crisp, dry, and unforgiving. The cold and the impending confrontation caused Melody's bones to shiver with every step she took as she approached the house.
She rapped her knuckles against the front door. No answer. She tried again, harder this time. Still nothing.
"I know you're in there," she muttered, and began pounding on the door with her fist.
"Just a goddamn minute," said a disgruntled voice from inside the small house. There was a pause, and the sound of shuffling footsteps. Then the door was thrown open wide, revealing Blue. He had obviously been drinking. I guess that's where Dylan got his coping mechanism from.
"What the hell did you say to him?"
Okay, that hadn't been how Melody had intended to open the conversation, but her fear and outrage had conspired to do away with her brain-to-mouth filter. She was not prone to violence, but she found that she wanted to hurt Blue in that moment-hurt him as much as he'd hurt his son.
"You again," Blue muttered, turning away from the door without closing it or inviting her inside. Melody grabbed the bag of groceries from the knob-it was cold enough that nothing had spoiled-and stalked in after Dylan's father. She followed him into the kitchen and tossed the bag onto the dirty table...then she froze. She saw what it had landed next to, and her anger began to seep away.