This Side of Salvation

CHAPTER 11

NOW

Kane prepares to cook omelets while we tell him everything we know. Since it isn’t much, we’re done talking before he even finishes breaking eggs.

“You know I’m not your parents’ hugest fan,” he says, turning on the gas stove, “but even I can’t believe they’d just abandon you.”

I eat a slice of bread while two more are toasting. “You think they were kidnapped?” I ask him, feeling less paranoid for having had the idea myself.

“Or otherwise coerced into leaving. You should call the police.” “No way!” Mara sloshes orange juice outside of the glass she’s trying to fill. “I’m only seventeen, so I can’t be David’s guardian. If we call the police, Social Services will put us in foster care. We could end up separated.”

“Better than ending up orphans.” Kane scoops part of a bowl of chopped onions, peppers, and ham into the sizzling pan, then starts to beat the eggs. “Is it possible one of your parents was having an affair?”

Mara gives a harsh laugh as she wipes up the juice. “Have you met our parents?”

“Hey, the world is full of pious people getting a little side action.”

The toaster beeps, so I replace the toast with two fresh slices of bread. “If one of them was having an affair, why would they both leave?”

“Maybe it was a threesome.” Kane taps the whisk against the inside of the bowl. “Or more than three, like on that show about the dude who has all those wives.”

Mara snorts. “Yeah, Kane. Our parents ran off and left us so Dad could start a harem.”

“Or your mom. There are such things as male harems.”

“In your dreams, maybe,” she says.

“Definitely in my dreams. But also in reality. I’m just saying, guys, there are way more plausible explanations for your parents being gone than the Rush.”

“We’re not saying they were Rushed,” I tell him, “but it can’t be a coincidence that they disappeared last night. There must be a connection.”

“Maybe. The important point is, they’re out there somewhere, which means you can get them back.” Kane shakes the spatula at us. “It’s your duty as their children to save them.”

“Even from themselves?” Mara asks.

“Especially from themselves.”

“We couldn’t do that while they were here,” I point out. “God knows I tried.”

“And if He doesn’t know,” Mara says, “He’s not paying attention.”

Kane and Mara and I take breakfast down into the family room, because there’s no one to make us eat at the kitchen table. It’s well past time for church, but our parents’ fringe beliefs alienated us from the congregation, so we haven’t been attending much lately. Which means, sadly, no one will miss us.

On my laptop, I open Sophia’s website (which still displays nothing but “. . . like a thief in the night . . .”), then do a quick search on her name to check for updates. No news has been reported, other than the fact that her house/headquarters seems empty, and no statement has been issued on her behalf.

Mara erases the leftover math problems from the whiteboard. “Okay, let’s keep an open mind while we try to figure out what happened with Mom and Dad. Possibility one: They were Rushed. Two: They were kidnapped. Three: They ran away.” She writes this list on the board with a black marker. “David, you’re the Bible geek, so you take number one.”

I try to see the evidence through the eyes of a Rusher. “The Rush would explain everyone’s disappearance—Mom, Dad, Sophia. And the way their clothes were left in the bed.”

Mara removes her glasses and peers at them in the light from the basement window. “If the Rush happened, then why weren’t we taken too? We could’ve been swept away while we were at Stephen’s party. That’s how it’s supposed to work, right?”

“Sophia said it was all a matter of faith, who was taken and who got left behind. You and I didn’t believe in the Rush, so we were automatically disqualified. Our doubts kept us here.”

“That makes sense from a certain point of view,” Kane says to me from the other end of the couch. “But this theory has one minor f law.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s fucking crazy, that’s what. Next?”

Mara crosses out option one. “Number two: kidnapping. Kane, this was your idea, so you defend it.”

“Your parents aren’t the most stable folks I’ve ever met, but aban doning you is extreme behavior even for them.”

“If they were kidnapped,” I point out with a mouthful of omelet, “wouldn’t someone have asked for a ransom by now?” This is just a guess—unlike Kane, I’m not an avid watcher of police shows. “We don’t have any money. Anyone who knows us well enough to kidnap them would already know we’re broke.”

“Your dad’s out of work, but they must have savings.” Kane lifts his orange juice glass and spies the damp ring it leaves behind on the coffee table. Grimacing, he wipes it dry with a napkin.

“If they had savings, why are we eating generic everything? Why can’t I afford college? If they don’t come back, David and I’ll probably lose the house.”

“We could live in the minivan,” I offer. “At least that’s paid for.” “What about other family?” Kane asks Mara before she can throw a marker at me. “Anyone with money?”

“Our grandparents are all dead, so there’s no one else to threaten.” “Aunts? Uncles?” Kane rattles off questions like a cop. “They live in Florida, and they don’t care about us.” Mara writes “money” under option two, then crosses out the word. “Why else would someone be kidnapped?”

I shift restlessly on the couch cushion, trying to focus. Despite my exhaustion, I’m dying to go for a run, to stretch my muscles and let my mind go blank.

“If Sophia wants to pretend the Rush really happened, wouldn’t she want to round up everyone who believed? Otherwise she looks like a fake.”

Mara nods and writes Sophia’s name under option two, along with the word “suspect.” “Sophia’s thugs showed up and took Mom and Dad away. Is that what we’re saying?”

“I’m not exactly a one-man CSI department,” Kane says, “but there’s no evidence of a struggle here. So they probably went quietly.”

He points to a wedge of toast at the board. “Which leads us to Option Three: they ran away. Would they do that, though? If someone tried to separate you guys, wouldn’t they fight to stay with you?” I’m ashamed I have to contemplate the answer for more than a second. Wouldn’t they have taken us if we hadn’t gone to the party?

If that was their plan, why didn’t they try harder to find us? “Mom would fight to stay with us.”

Mara looks at me. “Yeah. Mom would.”

“I think,” I add.

“I think,” she repeats.

Kane shakes his head sadly. “You know your family is seriously messed up, right?”

“We know,” Mara and I say in unison.

This whole exercise is surreal. After all, it’s our parents’ job to

save us. They reminded us of that every day, by keeping close tabs on our activities and “guiding” our education as much as they could. How many times over the last two years have I wished—prayed, even— that I could be free of their control? Now that we’re the grown-ups, I just want to know they’re safe.

“The question is how messed up are they, and in what way?” I dread voicing my next thought. “Mara, add an option four.” She writes the number on the board. “What is it?”

Just one word. “Suicide.”