Teddy Mentor finally thought his troubled teenage son was safe. No more drugs. No more police. No more fear. Only guilt. Then came the midnight call from the wilderness program. Jesse had run away.
But what can Teddy do? Risk his shaky job and head to Montana to search for Jesse? Let the authorities handle this. They know what they're doing. That's why Teddy sent Jesse away. Because he already failed. No. Teddy can’t jeopardize what little he has left for the adopted son who said Teddy wasn't his real father. But Teddy is a parent. A single parent. And Jesse is all he has left.
The novel asks the question how much should a parent sacrifice for their child? In Jesse’s Girl, the answer is: Everything.
Excerpt
Ever since he’d received the call in the middle of the night that Molly had died, Teddy Mentor had moved the phone away from the end table by the bed. Here in this bedroom, once theirs, then hers, now his, it sat on a pea- green marble table just beneath the window. Even across the room, six feet away, the phone still jolted him. On the second ring, he stiffened like some zombie coming to life.
It was about Jesse. It was one of his dealers calling about money. It was a desk sergeant. It was the morgue. On the third ring, he remembered: Jesse was safe. Let it ring. He had no one else to lose.
He stumbled toward the phone and stubbed his toe on the end table. Down he went to one knee. At fifty-four, stubbing your toe was like being shot. He scowled at the digital clock that he’d also moved so he wouldn’t count the sleep lost, the hours ticking off into the ozone, never to be retrieved.
Slamming down the clock because, of course, that was to blame, Teddy grimaced and answered the phone on the fifth ring. One-eighteen and he had to pee for the second time that night.
“Yeah,” he said hoarsely.
A faint crackle like a connection from space hummed, followed by a cheerful voice with a Western tinge.
“Hello Mr. Mentor, this is Paul Jennings at the Mountain Wilderness Center.”
Teddy flinched. Oh no.
“I’m so sorry to bother you so late.”
“What happened?”
“Well sir - ” Paul hesitated. “We had a little
incident with Jesse last night.”
He closed his eyes, as if that’d help. “Is he okay?”
“Nothing like that. He wasn’t hurt or anything.” Pause. “He left the premises during the night.”
Teddy rubbed his eyes hard, trying to wake up because this wasn’t supposed to happen. This was supposed to be when the nightmare started ending. But from the window came the smell of bagged garbage drifting up the courtyard two floors below, carried on a warm late July breeze, so he knew it wasn’t a dream; it was real and it sucked. “Great. Why?”
“We don’t know for sure.”
“Did you try asking him?” Teddy couldn’t remember if Paul was the fat one with glasses or the thin one with a red beard. He had only seen their pictures from the staff page on the website.
“Well that’s the rub, sir.” Paul cleared his throat.
“Jesse hasn’t returned yet.”
Teddy sat cross-legged on the floor and wished he hadn’t quit smoking. “How long has he been gone?”
“We’re not really sure, sir.”
“What the hell do you mean? I just paid you ten grand and you lose my son after two weeks?”
“I understand you’re upset.”
“That’s one word for it.” How late was the mini-mart on Seventh Street open? He could get cigarettes there. “He disappears in the middle of the night, and you just discovered that now?”
“Oh no, sir,” Paul chuckled, eager to deliver reassuring news. “We saw he was no longer in the cabin around seven this morning when the residents gathered for breakfast. He’d tucked a pillow under his blanket, darn old-fashioned trick but seemed to work…”
“He’s a clever boy,” Teddy said. Here we go again. Here we go again.
“That’s one word for it,” Paul answered slowly. Right. Paul was the fat one -- Teddy remembered now. “One of his roommates contacted the tech on duty and
we then set out looking for him. The group just returned a few minutes ago, and that’s when I called you.”
“So where do you guess he is?” His armpits
were drenched.
“That’s the good news. Nearest town is Morton, that’s more than twenty-two miles away. Twenty-two point three, actually, sir. So it’s unlikely he would’ve made it that far.”
“He could’ve hitched a ride.”
“Folks around here know better than to pick up one of our kids. We’ve got the sheriff on this; he’s sent out an alert. Not many places for Jesse to hide, doubt he had any food. He’ll come back hungry and thirsty. They usually do.”
“Or he won’t because he’s hurt.”
Paul chuckled again. “I don’t think so, sir. Like I said, this happens sometimes. Kids get anxious, frightened, and think running away is an option.”
“But you don’t know for sure he’s okay. You don’t know for sure where he is.” Teddy’s lower back ached. He wanted to lie down and close his eyes and make it all go away.
Paul’s voice hardened slightly. “We know these kids, sir. Just wanted to give you a shout and let you know not to worry.”
“You don’t think I’m going to worry that my sixteen-year-old son is missing somewhere in the middle of Montana?” Teddy shouted.
“Sir, it sounds far worse than it is.”
“Silly me for over-reacting.” Teddy’s chest
tightened.
“When will you call me back?”
“When we find him, sir.”
“When do you think that will be?”
“Hard to say.”
“Few hours, few days, few weeks, what’s the
standard time frame when you misplace an adolescent?”
“Is none. Don’t worry. We’ll find him. Just hang tight
And stay in touch.”
Teddy sat there for a moment, his head throbbing. Damn you, Jesse, he muttered. Damn you for doing this. For saying screw you, Dad, once again.
– Excerpted from Jesse’s Girl by Gary Morgenstein. Reprinted with permission.
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