Waiting on a Call

8:01 PM. Rohan was an hour and one minute late for their call. Rachel unlocked her phone to reveal a picture of him kissing the chubby cheek of their two-year-old son, Neel, who smiled back at her. She clicked through every app. No messages, no missed calls, no emails. It wasn’t like him to be late. The last three weeks had been hard with the time difference, but they’d be back in five days. Rohan did everything to assure her that the trip was going well. 

A knot formed in her stomach. She shot him a couple of short texts. Alfie nuzzled her arm. His pink nose wetted her sleeve while his ears pinned back with a whine. “I know, we’ll go in a minute.” She couldn’t leave until she heard from Rohan. Dark thoughts crowded her mind, forcing her out of her seat. She stepped back into their camper van, stumbling over her own clothes and shoes strewn about. Pain ripped up her spine. She caught herself against the cupboard and breathed.

A knock rattled the front door window. She opened the door to find a cop, to her dismay. “You’ve been here for two hours; you need to leave.”

“I’m waiting for a call.” She watched him examine her space. His chin dropped toward the neon-orange pill containers on the counter. “They’re prescription, for my back,” she huffed.

His eyebrows lifted in the familiar suspicion she’d seen a thousand times.

She grabbed her cane. “Look, I can’t reach my boyfriend, and he has my son.”

“You want to report them missing?”

“No, they’re-” Her phone buzzed. “Hello, Rohan? Hello?”

The bars on her phone dipped. The line crackled. “Hi, this is Maya. We’ve never met.”

The line dropped.

“Ma’am, I’m giving you ten more minutes.”

Rachel slammed the door. Text bubbles bounced on her screen. “Can you come to India?”

She typed back frantically. “What happened? Is everyone okay?” Black dimmed the edges of her vision.

“No, Rohan died.”

**

Rachel parked in front of her parents' conspicuous hedges that guarded their massive brick house.

Her mom hovered by the door, arms crossed, uninviting. Rachel stepped out, eyes puffy from crying, while Alfie nervously pranced at her feet, sensing something was wrong. Her mom didn’t wait. Rachel hugged herself tightly as she stepped into the cool marble foyer. Her siblings' smiling photos of her lined the hallway as she walked to the kitchen.

A cup of coffee sat on the counter next to her mother’s concerned scowl.

“Are you sure this isn’t a scam?” Her mother’s voice rattled in Rachel’s skull.

Rachel chewed on a hangnail so hard that her finger bled. Her mother’s beige décor sucked all the life out of her as she sank into the leather sofa. “Yes, I’m sure. Can you help me or not?”

Diane pulled her sweater vest tight across her body, as if Rachel’s words had plunged the room's temperature. “I think you should call Interpol or something first.”

Rachel felt her blood freeze. “I promise, I’ll pay you back.” Her hands clenched. Confused by her mother’s hesitance while her grandson sat stranded in India, she pleaded with her.

Diane dusted crumbs off the counter, fixating on little imperfections. “It’s not about the money, honey.”

Rachel knew what was coming. Diane's tone fell flat.

“He’s from a different culture; did you have a misunderstanding?”

Rachel squeezed the sofa arm until her knuckles went white. “You’re acting like you don’t know him.” Like Rohan didn’t come for every family gathering, help them when their car broke down, and do everything for their grandson. Rachel pushed herself off the couch and grabbed her cane. She paused to let the soreness numb before approaching her mom.

Diane stepped back, her eyes running down Rachel’s body like she was inspecting a car after an accident. “Plus, sweetheart, how are you going to get around? I don’t think they have sidewalks or elevators there. It’s not like here where everything’s built for people like you.”

People like you. Rachel could feel the bile hit the back of her throat. “Alfie needs two meals a day and at least one walk.” She hobbled to the front door.

“Don’t be like that, Rach; you’re being rash.”

Rachel grabbed her phone, keys, and wallet by the door. “I need to leave.”

“This is so like you.” Her mom grabbed the doorframe. “I hate to say it, but it’s why your life’s like this.” She waved her hands in the air in a mock surrender.

Rachel bit her lip. The words she wanted to say piled up in her throat. “Rohan’s dead. I need to figure out what happened and get Neel home. Is that really so crazy?”

“You don’t know if any of that is true.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to wind up dead too.” She pointed to Rachel’s cane. “What are you thinking?”

Tears welled in her eyes. She stepped out as Alfie whimpered by her mom’s leg.

“I can’t enable this, Rachel. I just can’t; you need help!”

Rachel slammed her front door. A list of flights lined her screen. She checked her bank account, and three numbers blinked back at her, not even enough for one way. Her finger hovered over the flights. Rohan was somewhere in South India. A map of the country filled her phone screen, and she wished she’d paid more attention to his anecdotes about home over the years. Plastic jars of turmeric, powdered ginger, and mustard seeds squatted by the stove. Their aroma lingered in her space, as if he were still here. The closest International Airport to him was Bangalore. She clicked purchase and maxed out her credit card for a one-way flight there.

She had no idea what things would cost there and if Rohan’s family would let her stay with them. She dialed her bank and connected with a representative for her retirement account. Her throat caught when the representative answered.

“Hi, I’d like to withdraw from my 401k.”

“Ma’am, there are penalties for-”

“I’m aware; it’s fine. Can we get this done today?”

Classical music flooded Rachel’s ears as she waited for a reply.

“Okay, ma’am, you’re all set. The funds will appear in five days.”

She typed in Rohan’s name on her phone. “Will be there in two days.”

Bubbles popped up. It felt weird to see a text coming from him, and yet she knew it wasn’t him. The words, “Rohan died,” hung over her message. He wasn’t gone for her. She held on to the hope that this was some kind of mistake or misunderstanding. Maybe Maya misspoke.

“Okay, good, see you soon.”

They weren’t his words, which made the message even harder to read. Acutely aware of the quiet now that everyone was gone, she turned on the radio to quiet her mind. A small bag filled with clothes rolled against the bed as she backed up. She texted back. “When can I see him?”

She needed closure. She couldn’t imagine what happened, and it scared her.

“No, you can’t.”

She stopped the van. Her thoughts raced. Another message came through.

“It’s an active investigation.”

What did that mean? Her breath became shallow as she sped towards the airport. Why was Maya being so vague when all Rachel wanted was answers? She tried calling again, but the line went dead.

“Is Neel okay?”

“He’s fine.”

She tried a video call. This time Maya hung up.