If You're Gone (10 page)

I started down the sidewalk, trying to decide where to go next since it was too early for me to go home and I definitely wouldn’t be returning to school for third period Honor Choir. I heard the faint sound of the diner bell and footsteps behind me and picked up my pace. I suddenly felt afraid. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to run, and I worried that if I tried to my legs wouldn’t carry me.
I should have eaten something. Anything.
I realized just how weak I was when a hand grasped my shoulder and my knees trembled beneath me. When I looked up I was met with two piercing blue eyes.

“What are you doing?” I cried, jerking my arm away.

The boy from the diner pulled his hand back and took a deep breath. I searched his face. His eyes were so reminiscent of Brad's that I wanted to look away but felt almost hypnotized.

“I’m sorry I grabbed you. But you forgot your bag.” His voice was kind, as it had been that night on the porch of Mandy’s house. He extended his other hand, which clutched my backpack I had thoughtlessly left sitting on the stool next to me.

“Oh, thanks. It’s okay...”

“Chris,” he filled in.

“Chris. Well, thank you, Chris.” I took the bag from his hand and gave him a nod. There was an awkward silence that lasted a few moments before I turned to walk away.

“Lillian!” he called out. I stopped in my tracks.

“How do you know my name?” I asked as I turned back towards him.

He suddenly seemed nervous. I saw the motion of his throat as he swallowed.
Has he been watching me? Did he follow me from school?
I looked from left to right to see if anyone else was around. The street was unusually quiet.

“I asked you a question.”

“Everyone knows your name,” he said, his face turning a pinkish hue. “I mean, because of Brad.”

I wrinkled my nose.
Popularity by association. I never dreamed I would benefit from his absence.

“I’m sorry, that came out wrong,” he apologized, shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s okay.”

He looked at me as he brushed a strand of hair from his eye. “My offer still stands.”

“Excuse me?”

“If you want someone to talk to. I can be that someone.”

I sighed. “Thanks, but I really don’t think…”

“It’s still early,” he interjected. “But are you interested in joining me for lunch?”

“I’m not hungry,” I told him, my eyes drifting to the ground. I knew I needed food, or just a few bites to give me enough fuel to make it home. I had practically been on a three-month hunger strike, unsure if I was fasting in prayer for Brad’s return or developing anorexia. My empty stomach rumbled but I hoped he didn’t hear it.

“Then we can split something. My treat.” He was smiling when I looked up at him.

“Look, I have a boyfriend.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m not asking you on a date. It's just lunch. Come on, even your eyes look hungry.” His smile was sincere.

I glanced around the street to see if anyone from church or school could be watching, but there was no one. I wasn't sure why, but I felt drawn to him-like I
needed
to follow him back into the diner.

“Okay,” I finally agreed.
Skipping school, having lunch with a stranger… this isn’t me. But who am I becoming? Who am I since Brad disappeared?

He held the door for me as we returned to the restaurant and we sat down across from each other at a booth with pink, vinyl covered bench seats near the window. The waitress approached us with menus and gave Chris a sly smile.

“She sure is a pretty one,” she whispered loudly to him. “Smart boy.”

He looked at me and laughed awkwardly once she walked away. I felt guilty for thinking he was cute, but that wasn’t the reason I had accepted his lunch invitation. The thought of spending time with someone who didn't get annoyed every time I brought up Brad’s name was appealing. I wasn’t stupid, it was obvious Anna and the others were tired of hearing me pour over the details of the last time I saw Brad, but I didn’t have anyone else to talk to. I wondered if Chris could be a friend who didn’t expect me to attend pep rallies and football games as if nothing had changed.

“Order whatever you want,” he told me, motioning towards the laminated menu that lay on the table. I didn’t need to look. I had been to the diner countless times with my group of friends, and with Brad.

The waitress returned to our table and pulled a pen from the knot of wiry hair on top of her head. “What’ll it be, kids?”

“A cheeseburger with onion rings,” I replied without glancing at the menu. “And a Coke. Please.”

“I’ll have the same,” he told her with a smile.

We sat in silence for a moment as we waited for our food. Chris tapped his fingers on the metal tabletop.

“So, what’s your story?” I blurted out. “Why don’t I recognize you from school?”

He laughed as he pulled a napkin from the dispenser and folded it in his hands.

“What’s my story, huh? That’s a pretty big question before we even get our drinks.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I grimaced. “I just wondered…”

“Don’t apologize. But there’s not a lot to tell. Or not a lot worth telling, I should say.”

“Good, it won’t take long,” I said with a small grin. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Brad’s poster hanging on the wall directly behind Chris’ head. I looked down at the table for a moment to avoid his ink jet stare.

“Well, first of all, you don’t know me from your school because I’m not from here. I just come into town now and then to help out my Grandma.”

“If you don’t live here, why did you want to come to that first search party for Brad?”

He shrugged. “Seemed like the right thing to do, I guess.”

“So, where are you from?” I asked.

“A small town.”

“In North Carolina?”

“Yeah. It’s just north of Charlotte.”

“What’s it called?”

“You have to admit,” he said with a grin. “For someone who didn’t even want me to know her name, you sure do want to know a lot about me.”

There I go again. What is this, twenty questions over burgers and onion rings? Come on Lillian, get it together.
I wasn't ready to explain to him that my social skills were lacking.

“I’m from Gladeville. It’s about three hours from here, a one stop light kind of place. Even smaller than Lions Port if you can believe that.”

“Are you in school?”

“You could say that.”

“What does that mean?” I asked with a shrug.

“I’ve been homeschooling myself since fifth grade,” he said. “My dad’s a deadbeat, my mom turned me over to my chain smoking, out of work uncle when I was a kid… and let’s just say getting me to school in the morning isn’t a top priority.”

“Wow, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he told me. “I’ll be all right.”

I wasn't sure what else to say. It was suddenly apparent to me that maybe I wasn’t the only one on the planet who was hurting. I glanced again to the poster of Brad. Chris noticed my wandering gaze and turned his head to see what had caught my eye.

“Your boyfriend is missing,” he said as he looked back at me. “I can’t imagine what that feels like.”

I couldn’t explain what it felt like even if I had wanted to.
It feels like an out-of-body experience. Or a cruel joke. Since Brad has been gone it feels like I am waiting in a long line that never moves.

“Where do you think he is?” Chris asked.

It was the simplest question, yet I was at a loss for words. “You know,” I said. “No one has ever asked me that before.”

Chris wrinkled his brow. “Asked where you think Brad is?”

“As if I wasn’t an important part of his life,” I told him with a nod. “No matter where he is now, it doesn’t change the six months we spent together…” My voice trailed off as I spoke the words I had been constantly repeating to myself. They didn't sound any better coming out of my mouth than they did in my head.

“Well, I’m asking you now. Where do you think he is?”

I took a deep breath in and tried to imagine Brad. My mind wandered back to the nightmares of him in the street, yelling at me to leave him alone, and then to the visions of his mangled body hanging from the hook of a crane. These thoughts were all wrong.
Where do I want him to be? Locked in a tower like Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty or one of those princess types? No, that’s ridiculous. So where do I think he is? I have absolutely no idea. Where do I want him to be? Here.

“I look in every ditch, creek bed, dark alley…” I finally said, thinking aloud. “But I don’t think he’s dead. Maybe he is being held somewhere against his will, or in some sort of trouble. Honestly, I wonder where he is twenty-four hours a day and can never come up with a good answer. But no matter what anyone says or what the statistics point to, I don’t believe he ran away. Not from his family. Not from me…”

I was interrupted as the waitress arrived at our table with hot plates brimming with burgers and onion rings. She sat them down in front of us before retrieving our drinks from the counter behind her.

“Eat up, Honeybuns. You won’t stay that skinny forever,” she chuckled, her voluptuous hips swinging side to side as she walked away.

I reached for my burger with two hands just as she turned around and headed back towards us with her order pad and pencil in hand.

“I’m guessing you two young things should be in school?” she said as she raised her bushy eyebrows.

I cringed and looked to Chris, expecting him to answer. I wasn't used to breaking the rules.

“But I’m glad you’re here,” she continued. “Because I need a fresh set of eyes to read this order I scrawled down.”

She pushed the notepad in front of my face but all I could make out were light colored scribbles and chicken scratches.

“You know you’re getting old when you can’t even read your own handwriting!” she said with a laugh. The smell of the burger on the plate hit my nose. My mouth was watering.

“Here, let me take a stab at it,” Chris offered. “After years of reading doctor’s handwriting for my Mom, I’m kind of a pro.” He pulled the paper from her hand and studied it for a moment. “Looks like… two eggs over easy, no salt, and a double order of bacon.” He smiled as he handed the pad back to her. “Well that’s a little counterproductive, don’t you think?”

“That’s exactly it! Quite a keeper you have here,” she said as she looked to me. “You've heard what they say about a man with good eyes…” She winked and headed back towards the kitchen. I couldn’t help but let out a small, uncomfortable laugh.

“Here’s to Brad.” Chris raised his plastic tumbler of soda. “Here’s to Brad being safe.” He smiled and I raised my glass to his. As they clanked together I wished everyone could be as optimistic as he was.

Much to my surprise, I devoured my cheeseburger and onion rings in a matter of minutes. I hadn’t realized just how hungry I was, both for a hearty meal and someone to talk to. As if someone had put my mouth on fast forward, I raced through the events that had led up to that day. I was very vague when it came to explaining Brad’s past and the detective’s reaction. It didn’t seem fair to Brad to broadcast his private business to yet another stranger.

“Remember, my treat,” Chris said as he grabbed the check from the waitress and handed her a twenty-dollar bill.

“Thank you. It was just what I needed.”

We sat in silence for a moment and I dabbed the corners of my mouth with a paper napkin, watching him gaze out the window.

“Well, Lillian, it was very nice to officially meet you,” he said as he turned back to me and extended a hand.

And just like that, it was over.
Did I say something wrong?
After the conversation we had shared it didn’t seem right to simply shake hands, but I placed my hand in his anyway and he gave it a firm tug across the table. His warm grasp around my fingers felt foreign; it had been so long since I’d held Brad’s hand.

“I’ll be leaving again soon, so I can't say when I will see you again,” he told me as he let go. My heart sank.

“Oh… well, thanks for lunch.”
I guess this is my cue to leave.
I gathered up my bag and slid out of the bench seat.

“Lillian?”

“Yeah?”

“I...” His eyes searched mine and he opened his mouth again to speak but nothing came out. “I hope I’ll see you around,” he finally said.

“Me too.” I nodded. “See ya.”

I sauntered towards the door of the diner, mystified at how suddenly the conversation had ended. Brad’s poster stared at me as I turned to exit.
Stop looking at me like that. I did nothing wrong.

****

I took my time getting home, planning out a slow walk with several detours that would get me to my doorstep at approximately the same time Anna would have been dropping me off. I wandered around the public library, opening and closing hundreds of books without reading a page, before browsing through an over-priced boutique on the town square. It was a few minutes after two o'clock when I started down my driveway. I was surprised to see Anna’s blue car parked under the lamppost, she was sitting on my front porch. She stood up when she saw me coming.