Hung Up (16 page)

James:
Lucy, I just got your message from last night. I had my phone turned off. I’m ready to talk to you, too. I’m sorry to hear about Kathryn. Lucy, I’m not as mad as I was. I’m ready for you to explain things to me. I think I know who you are.

May 19, 8:12 p.m.

Lucy:
I’m scared to talk to you.

James:
Don’t be.

Lucy:
But we haven’t talked in a really long time and now things feel so weird.

James:
You haven’t changed at all. It’s only been a couple of weeks and things don’t feel that weird.

Lucy:
Okay. Um, do you want me to tell you how I know Bo?

James:
You told me. He dated CeCe and he wrote you a letter.

Lucy:
He and Cecil only went out once. In a group. And he wasn’t supposed to be at the party in Waterbury. He crashed it. And he ended up getting kicked out. No other college kids were there.

James:
I don’t blame CeCe for what Bo did. I got over that before I even knew that Cecil was CeCe.

Lucy:
Do you want me to tell you the whole story?

James:
Only tell me what you want to.

Lucy:
Okay. There’s not even a tiny piece of it that’s happy.

James:
Say it.

Lucy:
I’m trying to figure out where to start.

James:
Lucy, I’m your friend. Tell me.

Lucy:
Here goes. My sister Kathryn, if she were here, she would be twenty-one. Almost twenty-two. She’s been missing for eight years. I was with her when she was taken. Or disappeared. Or whatever happened. I mean, I was sort of with her. She packed a picnic lunch for us. We were at Rosemary Park in Burlington. When all this happened, my family still lived in Burlington. We hadn’t moved yet. That happened after Kathryn went missing. After all the reporters on the lawn. The hundreds of volunteers. The attention was painful. I hated it. It was like a circus. All these people wanting to watch us and ask us questions. Some because they wanted to help. But others just to sell papers and magazines. It was sick. Okay. I’m skipping around. Back
to the picnic. After we finished eating, Kathryn went to use the bathroom. I closed my eyes. I can remember the sun. It was warm and I was so tired. Kathryn had made brownies for dessert. I’d eaten two. My mouth felt sweet. Every time I eat chocolate now, I think of this moment. Okay. I don’t remember falling asleep. And I don’t know how long I slept. When I woke up, the sky was cloudy and dark. It was about to rain. I called out for Kathryn. But she didn’t come. I went to the bathrooms. She wasn’t there. I was eight years old when it happened. I should have gone to somebody’s house and told them to call 911. But I was so sure that she would come back. I went and sat and waited for her. The clouds broke open and rain poured down. Our neighbor, Mrs. Wong, drove by and saw me and tried to get me to get inside her car. But I wouldn’t. Because if I went, I was sure Kathryn would come back and she’d think I’d left her. I didn’t want her to think that. I couldn’t just abandon her. It had been my idea to go to the park in the first place. It was so awful. I thought they’d find her. I thought maybe she had hurt herself and fallen into something she couldn’t get out of. Or maybe she’d hit her head. Or maybe somebody was holding her hostage and she was trying to escape. For a long time, every time the phone rang, I was so sure it would be her. It’s hard to believe that a person can just disappear like that. But she did. She’s gone.

James:
Oh my god. I knew it. You’re Lucy Kimble. I remember when this happened. Bo and I were at Rosemary Park that same day.

Lucy:
I know. I know. That’s what his letter was about. I got it, like, three weeks after Kathryn disappeared. He wrote to me about how he’d seen us there, playing Frisbee. And how sorry he was that she was missing. He talked about what a nice person she was. How she’d offered him a brownie. He’d only met her once, for just a minute or two, but it was like he had been able to understand her and figure out exactly who she was. And that made me feel better, because it made me feel that even though Kathryn wasn’t around, all the people she’d met still carried around memories of her. So she might have been missing, but she wasn’t erased. Bo’s letter really helped. I liked how he talked about how happy Kathryn looked that day. When I think of her, that’s how I remember her. Laughing. Smiling. Running through the grass.

James:
It’s okay that you told me that your last name was Villaire.

Lucy:
I tell a lot of people that. Because when I say that my name is Lucy Kimble, people usually ask if I’m the
Lucy Kimble from the news. And that’s not how I want people to think of me. I don’t want my whole life to be defined by this one thing. A tragedy.

James:
I can totally understand that.

Lucy:
And I don’t like thinking that people know such personal stuff about me. I mean, it’s not fair. They’re strangers to me. The balance is off. When I say that my name is Villaire, it makes things balanced. Because we’re both strangers to each other. That’s how it should be.

James:
I think I understand.

Lucy:
Good.

James:
I’m so sorry.

Lucy:
That’s not what I want to hear. I don’t want people to feel sorry for me.

James:
I’m not sorry for you. I’m sorry that this happened to you. There’s a difference.

Lucy:
Yeah. Okay.

James:
Lucy, I think we should meet.

Lucy:
Paris’s eggs should be hatching any day.

James:
We don’t have to wait for that.

Lucy:
But if we rush our meeting, then it won’t be like a movie anymore.

James:
Actually, this is completely like a movie already.

Lucy:
But I feel like there’s still stuff I should tell you.

James:
You can tell me anything else you want.

Lucy:
Do you want to know what I told the plaque maker?

James:
Yeah.

Lucy:
It’s sort of what I told you. But with some stuff added. I said that I was Lucy Kimble and that my sister was Kathryn and that after she vanished and my parents moved us to Montpelier, I planted a dogwood in her memory.
So even if I couldn’t watch Kathryn grow up, I could sort of keep track of the tree. I realize that the symbolism is strained, and that the tree doesn’t replace Kathryn, and that a person and a tree don’t grow at the same rate, but when I was eight, it seemed like a solution in some way.

James:
I think that makes sense.

Lucy:
Well, when somebody disappears and you don’t have a body, you don’t have a funeral. There’s no death date. So the plaque was going to have her name and her birth date and death date, the day she vanished, so that it would feel more final. I was going to put it at the tree’s base. It was something I wanted to do before I went to college.

James:
That’s so sad. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?

Lucy:
Talking to you makes me feel better.

James:
Even after we meet, we can still talk on the phone.

Lucy:
That’s a weird thing to say. You thought we’d stop talking on the phone after we met?

James:
No. I mean, I don’t know. Nothing has to change is all that I’m saying. We can see each other and talk on the phone.

Lucy:
Okay.

James:
Okay.

May 20, 6:19 a.m.

James:
How are you?

Lucy:
Tired.

James:
Are you feeling okay?

Lucy:
Don’t do this. I hate it when I tell people my story and then they become hypersensitive to my feelings.

James:
I wouldn’t say that I’m being hypersensitive.

Lucy:
Just be normal.

James:
Okay. So are you wearing a skirt today?

Lucy:
Now that’s the James I know and love.

James:
Wow.

Lucy:
That’s just a saying. It doesn’t really mean that I love you. Please don’t get weirded out. I’m never at my best in the mornings. I’m way too spontaneous.

James:
I never noticed that.

Lucy:
It’s one of the things I was trying to hide.

James:
You don’t have to hide anything with me. I’m not a judgmental person.

Lucy:
I know. You’ve done a good job not judging me thus far. Hey, I’ve got great news! CeCe thinks that Paris’s eggs will hatch in the next couple of days. What are you doing tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that?

James:
I guess I’ll be waiting by my phone.

Lucy:
I’ll try to make it worth your while.

James:
I like the sound of that.

Lucy:
So are you going to call me Lucy Kimble or Lucy Villaire?

James:
I’m probably just going to call you Lucy.

Lucy:
But what if we get into a situation where you have to use my last name?

James:
What do you want me to say?

Lucy:
You can tell your parents that my name is Kimble. And your friends. But not random people.

James:
Can we define “random people”?

Lucy:
You know. The postal carrier. Waitresses. Door-to-door salespeople. Ice-cream-truck drivers. Lifeguards. Et cetera.

James:
You’re a goof.

Lucy:
Takes one to know one.

James:
Hey, can you hear that?

Lucy:
Yeah. Did you get a cat? Is it in heat?

James:
No. It’s my grandmother. She liked singing along to the radio in the car so much, I bought her a karaoke machine. And she uses it all the time.

Lucy:
It sounds like she’s singing a rap song.

James:
It’s a song about Detroit. I got her a bunch of songs about Michigan. I bought this one as a joke, but it’s turned out to be one of her favorites.

Lucy:
What is it?

James:
It’s by K-Deezy. Do you know him? The song is “In My Hood.” He’s a big deal in Detroit.

Lucy:
Does your grandma usually like rap music?

James:
No. Just this song. I mean, there are a couple by Jay-Z that she likes too. But I’m not sure she’d heard them until now. Maybe she had.

Lucy:
What you’ve done for her is sweet.

James:
Helping her rap before seven o’clock in the morning?

Lucy:
Yeah. She sounds very happy.

James:
I think she’s doing really good.

Lucy:
What’s she singing now?

James:
Hard to tell. I think something by Beyoncé.

Lucy:
Which song? After Greg and I broke up, I played a lot of her music. I think she’s soulful.

James:
That’s right. Good old Greg Tandy. So what did happen between you two?

Lucy:
Well, it’s a serious story. It involves track.

James:
You and track. I never knew running could be such a serious issue in anybody’s life.

Lucy:
Do you want to tease me about it or do you want me to talk about it?

James:
Can’t I have both?

Lucy:
I’ll call you later and we can talk. It’s a sad story.

James:
Track is a sad story?

Lucy:
It really is.

James:
Call me any time you want and tell me all about it. You can even call me at lunch.

Lucy:
I can’t. CeCe and I have to talk at lunch.

James:
Did you ever tell her what happened with Bo?

Lucy:
No. It didn’t feel like my story.

James:
Most people would have told that story.

Lucy:
I understand what stories can do. You may have told me, but I didn’t think you wanted me to tell other people.

James:
Thanks, Lucy. So what are you going to talk about with CeCe at lunch?

Lucy:
Taylor Conk.

James:
Is that her boyfriend?

Lucy:
She’s hoping.

James:
I’ve never heard of him.

Lucy:
He’s not an athlete.

James:
I’m friends with people who aren’t athletes.

Lucy:
He plays the viola.

James:
Oh.

Lucy:
He’s super nice.

James:
I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody who played the viola.

Lucy:
Maybe we could go on a double date and you could hang out with him.

James:
I want to go on a bunch of single dates first.

Lucy:
I bet you do.

James:
What do you mean by that?

Lucy:
I don’t really know.

James:
You are so corny.

Lucy:
James, it’s how I roll.

May 20, 11:45 a.m.

James:
Hey, Lucy. I just ran into Nan. One thing I never told you about Nan was that I once asked her if Nan was short for Nancy. And she said, “No. My name isn’t short for anything. It’s just Nan.” And so when I ran into her, like, five minutes ago, I asked her, “Hey, Nan, I met somebody who said that your full name is Nanette. Is that true?” And she pinched me on the chest, right above my nipple, and said, “Nobody calls me that anymore. Nobody.” She didn’t pinch me hard. It was more like a grab. But it made me like her a whole lot less. I get why you didn’t tell me the truth about your name. There was a sad story attached to it and we didn’t know each other well enough to go there. But Nan. I dated Nan for seven months. And she lied to me about her name the whole time. For no good reason. It’s
weird how two people can tell the same lie, but the effect of that lie can be totally different. I mean, your lie made me like you more. Isn’t that weird?