Chapter 8 - The Cold Hallway Hummed Again
I didn't let Dad leave me with Grandmother. I grabbed his suit jacket with my free hand and wouldn't let go, and the bread bag crinkled loud in my other hand. He looked down at me, then at Grandmother, and he didn't tell me to stay. He just lifted me up again, and I buried my face in his shoulder so the bright ballroom lights wouldn't hurt my eyes.
The air changed when we went back through the side curtains. It got cold fast. The warm gold light from the chandeliers went away and the white hallway light buzzed over us. It hummed and hummed in my ears. My tennis shoes bumped against Dad's side as he walked, and I could smell clean soap and cold concrete instead of cake and perfume.
"Dad," I whispered, "it's cold in here."
"I know, baby," he said. His voice sounded bigger in the hallway. "Hold on tight."
We walked past the metal tray still sitting on the floor where I'd left it. It was empty and shiny under the lights. Dad stopped for a second and looked down at it. I stared at it too. That was my spot. My knees had hurt there. The plastic bag hung down from my hand and one roll shifted inside.
He kept walking toward the gray door at the end. The one with the little push bar and the tiny window with wire in it. It looked dark outside that window. He set me down but kept my hand in his. His hand was warm and a little sweaty.
"Stay right by me," he said.
I nodded. I stepped close to his leg. The floor was cold through my blue pants where my knee touched him.
Dad tried the push bar. He pushed it once, hard. It didn't move. He pushed again with his shoulder, and the door rattled but stayed shut. He jiggled the handle underneath. Locked.
He knocked his knuckles against it. "Hello?" he called. Not loud at first. Then louder. "Hey, is anyone out there?"
For a second there was nothing, just the buzz of the lights. I held my bitten roll tighter. Crumbs stuck to my fingers.
Then I heard it. A small thump. Like someone knocking back with the side of their fist.
Thump. Thump.
My chest jumped. "Mom?" I said, too fast. "Mommy?"
Dad put his finger to his lips, gentle, and bent close to the door. "Lena?" he called through the crack. "Lena, is that you? It's Andy."
We both went still. The hallway felt so quiet I could hear myself breathe.
Then her voice came, thin through the metal. "Andy? I'm here. I'm right here."
It was Mom. I knew it was Mom even though she sounded far away and shaky. I started crying again before I meant to. "Mommy, it's cold out there!"
"Baby? Are you with Dad?" she said. "Are you okay?"
I tried to answer but Dad squeezed my hand. "She's with me," he called back. "She's okay. Are you locked out? Did the bolt get turned from inside?"
A pause. Then a rattle on the other side, like she was trying the handle. "It won't open," Mom said. "I tried the other service door too. They both stick and then they lock."
Dad pressed his forehead to the door for a second. I saw his jaw move. He looked mad but not loud-mad. Quiet-mad.
"Okay. Okay, listen to me," he said, steady. "I'm right here. I'm not leaving this hallway. I need to get a key or get someone with a key. Can you stay by the door where I can hear you?"
"Yes," Mom said. "Tell her to keep her coat—" Her voice cut a little. "Tell her I love her. Is she still holding—"
"The bread," Dad said. "Yeah. She's still got it."
I lifted the bag up like Mom could see it through the door. The plastic shone under the white light.
Dad tried the push bar one more time, pulling then pushing. Nothing. He looked up and down the hallway at the pipes and the closed doors. No key box. No staff.
He crouched down to me. His eyes looked tired. "You did good coming back here with me," he whispered. "We found her. Now we just need to get this door open."
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Outside, Mom knocked again, soft, so we'd know she was still there. Thump. Thump.
I knocked back on our side with my knuckles. It hurt a little, but I liked that she could hear me.
