Thin Luck

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Connecticut - Section 21a- 279

Illegal Possession of Dependency-Producing Drugs

I WALKED THROUGH the laundry room and into the main room. The house was empty, desolate. Empty boxes were everywhere. As if I was on an investigation, my mind invented stories of what had happened here. My theories ranged from the ridiculous-abducted by aliens-to the plausible-arrested for the crime we committed in college-to the most likely-he skipped town. The last theory took hold like someone grabbing my lungs and squeezing. I fell to my knees, weeping. How could he take my son? I repeated this over and over in my mind. I pounded on the floor. I cried until I drenched the carpet with my sputum and tears.

How quickly had my plans turned to disaster? I picked myself off the carpet. Crying wasn't going to fix anything. If I was going to get my son back, I was going to need a plan. Everything I'd put in motion to get released from prison was useless. Nick changed the game when he was losing, as always. We were halfway through a game of chess, so he switched to Battleship.

As I wandered into the kitchen, my stomach growled. The refrigerator was an affront to my nose. It was nearly empty, and what was left was old and moldy. I opened the pantry. It was also almost empty, just cans of soup with strange labels and one box of crackers. I remembered the soup was there when we moved in three years ago, left behind by the last renters. The crackers tasted a bit like the cardboard box they came in.

I looked for a can opener and upon opening one of the cabinets, the strong smell of oregano reminded me of pizza. Real pizza, not the cardboard, watered-down tomato soup version they served in prison. Pizza Haven boasted a thirty-minute or less satisfaction guarantee. I had the place on speed dial back in the day, but there was no phone in the living room, or anywhere.

I thought about the safe Nick had, and what he'd kept hidden in there. But when I walked into the bedroom it was entirely empty. Just four bare walls with sun print outlines where paintings used to hang and furniture used to sit. There was no bed, no dressers. The walk-in closet was empty. I mourned the loss of my shoes for a moment, but more importantly there was a bare spot on the floor where the safe used to be. The disappointment crushed through my chest. Why did I think for even one moment that Nick would leave the safe with its damning evidence behind? What made me think I could break into the safe here and now if I hadn't been able to after two years of trying?

I ran down the hallway, tripping and then falling forward onto the wall headfirst. I saw stars as I stumbled past Nick's office. I put my hand up to my forehead, but it didn't come back bloody. I'd always tripped on that step indicating the transition to the addition of the house. Who would put a step in a hallway?

The door to Kyle's room was closed. The door handle didn't want to turn, but with a little force, gave way to a room no larger than my former cell. The smell of Kyle-a mix of baby powder, sour milk, and hot nights-wafted through my nose and started my crying jag again. I took deep breaths between sobs, trying to retain that smell as long as I could.

Still weeping, I opened the closet door. At the bottom corner of the closet was Kyle's pacifier. I wondered if it was his only soother. What would he do to comfort himself without it? Or was he the kind of child who didn't need the pacifier? Perhaps Kyle had thrown it out himself? I stared at the thing. I tried to remember every little detail Nick had told me about Kyle. He did use a pacifier. Nick tried to break him of the habit. Was leaving this pacifier behind a way for Nick to toughen Kyle? I'd tried to tell Nick to let him use it as long as he wanted. He'd eventually grow out of it on his own. Grown adults don't suck on soothers, at least most of them don't. I put the pacifier in my purse and then searched through for something to blow my nose. I found an old receipt for Chinese take-out I'd shared with Wayne.