Alex
I was dreaming.Dreamingof the apartment in Philly, the matted, tangled hair of the man as he slipped out of the door. I was calling to him, waiting for him to stop. “Don’t go,” I cried. “Don’t go, dad!”
Then, my eyes opened, and I heard the cry from outside: “Hey!” It was faint, but the voice was unmistakable. It was a voice I’d know anywhere.
It was Lola.
I’d had that dream a hundred times, but, I reflected, I hadn’t had it in some time. I got up and looked out through the window.
Lola must be at the southern end of the house. I slipped on my sweater and some pants, and put on a pair of shoes. I took the car keys, just in case we’d need to leave in a hurry. Had they found us?
I went down the stairs and through the living room. The house was quiet and still.
Where was Lola?
I
