I could hear the shrug in her voice. “That girl does what she wants, just like she always has.”
Talking to her was impossible. This whole thing was like a nightmare turned to reality. “Ma, you have to have some way to find her.”
“She wants nothing to do with me.”
“It’s been months since that fight, Ma. No, years. How long are you planning to hold a grudge?”
“If you’d heard the things she called me… She can apologize to me whenever she feels ready.”
“What could be so bad?” I asked, then stopped myself. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. I just can’t believe you don’t want to forgive and forget.”
“That hussy can come to me if she wants forgiveness. I have no intentions of getting in touch with her.”
“You’re talking about your own daughter.”
“So? Clearly you haven’t been in contact. She’s your sister, too.”
We were getting sidetracked talking about this never-ending feud they were having. “Can you at least tell me if you have a more recent phone number than this?” I asked, and read out the one I’d been calling.
Ma hesitated, and for a moment I thought I might actually be getting somewhere. “That’s not the one I have,” she finally said. “It was five-two-one-something.”
I let out a sigh. As annoying as it was that she hadn’t bothered to get me the full number, it didn’t matter. I remembered that number as the one Amanda had before her current one.
I’d called both sets of digits today—many times. All I got was a robotic voice announcing the first was out of service, and a similar voice saying the mailbox was full at the second one.
My hope had been that Amanda had been unable to afford her phone plan and had gotten a new number. I couldn’t imagine her being unreachable by phone. She spent about twenty-three hours a day texting and calling. Not overly mature for a twenty-three-year-old, but that was how it was. When she wasn’t gossiping or creating drama, she was squeezing into too-small dresses so she could go out and have what she considered fun with her equally useless friends.
“I already had that number,” I told Ma. “Don’t you know anything else? People she was hanging out with? Anything at all?”
“Last I heard, she was living with that black man in Johnston.”
My mother would never refer to Wesley by his name. And she wonders why Amanda doesn’t want to be in touch with her. Not that I blamed Ma for not wanting to, either—Amanda had more than enough flaws of her own.
Wesley’d actually been good for Amanda. For a while, it seemed like he’d put her on a better path. She’d drank less from what I could tell. Stayed home more. Even got a part-time job for a little while.
They’d split up ages ago. I didn’t know why, just that Amanda had gone back to her old ways. I doubted Amanda was still living anywhere near Wesley. Last I heard, she was in our hometown of Sargasso, but she could’ve been anywhere in the country now.
Gretchen let out a wail, which by this point was sounding more like a squawk. She hadn’t shut up once during our car ride home. I’d had to turn the radio up to the maximum, making me feel like I was about to get arrested for disturbing the peace—and Gretchen was still louder. I’d plugged my ears one-handed as best as I could, then shoved bits of paper in them to block the sound… and still her screams pierced through.
Who would’ve thought an infant who weighed less than some of the textbooks I used could make a sound so damn large?
I gritted my teeth. “You have to help me,” I told Ma. “You hear that, don’t you? I’m about to start banging my head against the wall.”
“I would, but I haven’t heard a word from her in a very long time.”
Gretchen quieted enough for me to hear voices in the background. Soap operas. My mother is having this conversation while she’s watching soap operas.
At least Ma wasn’t watching Springer. Now that would’ve been ironic.
“That’s all I know,” she said.
How did she manage to sound so damn bored? “Don’t you even care that you have a grandchild?” I asked. “Aren’t you at least mildly curious?”
“Of course I am,” she said without changing her tone. “You asked if I knew where Amanda is, and I said no.”
“Fine.” More gritting. My teeth were going to be gone in about a day if this kept up. “Since you care so much, I’ll bring this kid up to your place and you can take care of her while you look for Amanda.”
“I can’t take a baby.” At last I heard some emotion in her voice, a note of panic coming into it. “I’m busy. I have a life.”