“Tracy, when did you last talk to your husband?”
“He’s still not answering.”
“Three days ago. He texted that everything was quiet, and the mail was piling up, but he’d bring it in.” She pressed her palm to her mouth. “I’ve been calling since I landed. Nothing. Straight to voicemail every time.”
“Was he home when you got in?”
My neighbor shook her head slowly. “No. His car isn’t in the garage. I initially figured he’d run to the store. I was so tired I didn’t even think about it until I tried to call him.”
The porch light flickered on above us. Somewhere down the block, a dog barked.
“He texted that everything was quiet.”
“Melissa, I don’t know what he did,” my neighbor said, her voice cracking. “I don’t know what’s going on. But whatever it costs, whatever’s broken, we’ll pay for it. All of it. I mean that.”
“Tracy, I’m not asking you to…”
“I am asking myself to.” She looked at me, and her eyes were wet. “You gave me that key because you trusted us. Both of us. I’m not going to sit here and pretend I don’t own half the fault for whatever happened in your absence.”
“I don’t know what’s going on.”
I wanted to tell her it wasn’t her fault. That she’d been a thousand miles away. But I couldn’t get the words out because Dean was walking up the path behind me, and I could see his jaw was still tight.
“Any luck?” my husband asked quietly.
Tracy shook her head and hit redial again. Straight to voicemail.
“He’s been off for weeks,” she said, almost to herself. “Quieter. Distracted. I kept asking if he was okay, and he kept saying yes.”
I could see his jaw was still tight.
She set the phone down on the step between us.
“Something’s wrong, Melissa. Something’s really wrong. And I’m worried my marriage might be over. I’m worried that my husband left me.”
Tracy started crying, and all I could do was hold her. Dean now looked more sympathetic than angry.
And for two whole days after that, Kevin didn’t come home.
“Something’s really wrong.”
***
Two days went by without a single word from Tracy’s husband.
Dean and I bagged up bottles, hauled off the broken chair, and scrubbed patio stains until our hands were raw. Tracy came over twice a day, eyes swollen, pressing checks into my palm that I kept refusing.
“Please, Melissa. At least let me cover the fines.”
“Not until we know the whole story,” I told her. “Have you heard from him?”
Two days went by without a single word from Tracy’s husband.
My neighbor shook her head. “All my calls go straight to voicemail. Every time. And he isn’t responding to texts either. None of his family members know where he is.”
I held her hand; there was nothing else I could offer.
***
The HOA officially scheduled a hearing for the following week.
Dean read the letter twice and set it down without a word.
“None of his family members know where he is.”
“They can fine us up to $2,000,” my husband finally said. “And I’d like to know who I’m handing the bill to. What is Kevin playing at?”
***
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