by Peter Frantz

Created on: October 01, 2009

I rapped three times on the rickety door in the alley and waited. The cold night breeze nipped at the uncovered area of my neck as I stood. This was the last place I would have ever expected to be. As if on cue, the door cracked open revealing a short, chubby black man. His crosses and other neck jewelry tinkled as he moved his head to peer out at me.

"You the brother who called? Gary?" he asked.

I nodded. He let me in.

"Rosy's last went a little longer than expected. You sit and wait." With that he turned and slowly disappeared down the long dark hallway before me. 'Rosy', I thought. The name sounded so wrong.

Without hesitating I went and sat in one of the cushioned chairs in the quiet lobby. The lights were dim and the air smelled strongly of smoke. I assumed the dark gray walls were covered with it. Mildew and dark stains could be seen along the bottom of the walls encircling the room. As I assumed, no one made it a priority to clean the place. After all, it was a sinner's haven and sinners couldn't care less about cleanliness and decor. I wondered what Denita would have thought if she'd known exactly where I was. For all she knew I was in Cincinnati on business. I hadn't told her about the conversation I had with my mother the week before. She didn't know about my mission to find and recover Charlotte.

My train of thought was interrupted by the chubby man waddling back into the lobby. "All right," he said as he beckoned down the hallway. "She's in room 6." I got up and thanked him, then proceeded down the shadowy hall.

Anxiety began to cloud my mind. I was so close to her, yet I knew that when I saw her we'd be two people worlds apart. Room 1. I remembered her smiling up at me from her crib. Her eyes were so big and so blue. What was she so happy about? Why couldn't she have just stayed happy? Room 2, Room 3. Then I thought of myself and my own mistakes leaving her and mother to fend for themselves against Mark, my stepfather. I thought of how often I'd longed to break away. I was rebellious; I wanted to leave more than I'd wanted to protect those who mattered most to me. So I worked hard and did extremely well in school, well enough to get a couple of big scholarships to UCLA. Then I left. I came home a few times during my college years, but I never knew the extent of what was going on at home. Mom lied to me about Mark because he had threatened her and Charlotte. I wish I would have known back then. I could have done something. Maybe the two of them would have known they could count on me. Room 4. What was she going to look like? Would I recognize her as my sister? Deep down I knew that the bigger and more haunting question was 'how would she react to seeing me?' She would have every right to slap me, yell at me or simply sit and hate me, and truthfully, I preferred those to the alternative.

A mouse skittered across the floor right in front of me, and it was all that I could do to keep from stepping on its tail. Alarmed, the little creature raced ahead of me and past Room 5. As my looming footsteps were drawing nearer it bolted again up into the shadows beyond the stained red carpeting. It was gone.

What would my initial words be? I'd thought about them quite a bit, but hadn't come to any conclusions. I had hoped we would jump immediately to the most important topics, but that was a very nave expectation. I began to quickly rehearse some possible questions as I saw Room 6 several paces ahead. Anything I could say or ask would be superficial, except the truth the reason I was there. There was no way to effectively plan something like this. You have to take it in stride.

Trembling, I grabbed hold of the door knob and pushed it in. At last...

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