If You're Gone (16 page)

“What do you mean?” I asked, fiddling with Brad’s ring under the neck of my shirt.

“All these things Brad didn’t tell you about his past… don’t see them as a reflection of how he felt about you,” she told me. “When you came into his life you helped him escape a very troubled path. He wanted to be clean and new and I think his relationship with you made him feel that way. I just don’t think he wanted to burden you with the truth about his past. What if it changed how you felt about him, how you saw him?”

“But it doesn’t.”

“I know that. And you know that. But maybe it wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.” Janice shifted her body towards mine on the bench and leaned in closer so our eyes were level. “Brad didn’t talk to me much about his feelings for you, and I didn’t ask – partially because I wanted to respect his privacy and partially because I didn’t need to. The love he felt for you was written all over his face twenty-four hours a day. It changed the way he talked, the way he moved… it energized him. I will be forever grateful to you for the impact you had on Brad’s life.” She blinked back tears as she let out a deep sigh.

“But sometimes,” she continued. “I worry that there was only so much that any of us could do to repair the damage inside. And knowing that his biological mother wasn't there to watch him graduate might have triggered that pent up anger... ”

Her head dropped for just a moment, as though she was giving in to a fleeting ounce of weakness. But just as soon as she had let down her guard her shoulders pulled back and she held her chin high.

“You changed his life, and you have the ability to do that for so many other people. You continue to see the good even when all you hear is bad. No matter what the outcome of this is… please don’t let it break your spirit.”

I tried to nod but my head was heavy. It seemed apparent to her, just as it had been to Chris, that I had broken down.

“I truly believe that Brad made choices that got him to wherever he is today,” she went on. “They might have been very tough choices to make, or choices he knew were wrong, but he made choices. You can make choices too. Brad would want you to make the right choices.”

If he did make choices, only one can be certain. He didn’t choose me.

She stood up and pulled her purse over her shoulder as she turned to face me.

“I should get going, I’m sure Montana is getting anxious. Can we give you a ride home?”

“No, thank you. I’m going to stay for a little while.”

“Okay, be careful getting home. And think about what I said, okay, Lillian?” she said with a smile. “
Choices
.”

“I will.”

I leaned into the corner of the bench and watched as she stepped carefully through the grass and disappeared behind the church.
Choices
. The word kept echoing in my mind.
Choices
. Brad chose to abandon his past and the memory of the mother who had abandoned him. And he hadn’t just kept it a secret from me, it was a secret engineered to be kept from our entire town.
If the Lees moved Brad to Lions Port to start a new life, did he simply decide he wanted to start over again after graduation and walk away? Was that the choice?

Brad always had a certain amount of mystery behind his eyes, but I was realizing he was much more complicated than I could ever have imagined. He had done a wonderful job putting on the façade of a perfect boyfriend, son, and student.
But how much of it was a lie? How much of it was the truth?

13. Normalization Process: In Progress

Once the word got out that the body wasn’t Brad, his story quickly became old news. Instead, the television was racked with reports of James Morgan, the runaway from Fayetteville who had overdosed in his makeshift campsite. Occasionally, news anchors threw around Brad’s name as they debated whether he had met the same fate as young James, but there was a lack of compassion in their voices. There was no more excitement, no new gruesome discoveries of decaying flesh, no updates that warranted a report. Brad was once again becoming that ‘first name-last name missing guy’ that people easily forgot about.

After church on Sunday, I searched the town for any sign of Chris, but he was nowhere to be found. I spoke to the frizzy haired waitress at the diner, asking if she remembered seeing him in the past few weeks. But she shook her head and pointed towards the bulletin board where Brad’s poster hung.

“You’re welcome to put up a flyer if you can’t find your friend,” she said in a cheerful voice.

“That won’t be necessary,” I told her.

Later that afternoon I plugged his first and last name into various people-finding search engines, again to no avail. I found a man named Chris Colvin who worked as a chiropractor in Lincoln, Nebraska, and a sixty-eight-year-old Christopher Colvin who had been arrested in New Jersey for drunk driving, but no teenage, blue-eyed boy.

My parents let me miss school on Monday as I continued to come to terms with the fact that Brad was still missing. Anna called that morning to announce she would pick up my assignments and bring them by after class dismissed, with a reminder that she was there for me and all of our friends were thinking of me. She kept repeating how glad she was that the body wasn’t Brad, but I couldn’t share her enthusiasm.

I lay in bed for most of the morning, my mind racing with the thoughts of everything I had lost. I had lost Brad, but along with that came the loss of time, energy, strength and ambition. And then there was my faith.
Why would God allow something like this to happen? Have I lost my faith? Or is it all I have left?

I skimmed through the book Chris gave me that I kept in the drawer of my bedside table. I hadn’t been able to make it through more than a few pages, and every time I opened it I wondered why he had given it to me. Everything the book talked about was death, which was much more final than my situation. Had it been Brad’s body in that tent the book would have been helpful, but there was no chapter for coping with the pain of a missing loved one. There were no paragraphs about holding on to hope while maintaining a normal life.

I started to fold the book shut when a word caught my eye.
Pain.
I looked closer and read the sentence out loud.

“
When the pain doesn’t go away, we must find ways to push it to the back
.”

I read it to myself again.
How do you push it to the back? What is the secret?

I continued reading, taking in every other word until I found the sentence that spoke to me.

Even if it is difficult, you must try to normalize your life as much as you can. Even if you can’t do something as well as you once could, you have to keep trying.

I folded the corner of the page and dropped the book into my lap. The initial thought of ‘normalizing’ my life seemed so daunting. I thought back to the nights I had spent with my friends while we were waiting for the body to be identified. They made me feel comforted and safe-like we were in this together. With them, it actually seemed possible that I could go on living, being a student, and a friend, and have a somewhat normal life even if Brad was gone. I probably wouldn’t be as good of a student as I had once been, but as the book said, I had to keep trying. Janice’s words from the day before came into my mind.
You can make choices too, Lillian
.
But can I really push the pain to the back and live a normal life again?

I crawled deeper into my bed, pulled the covers up to my chin, and closed my eyes. I searched for the words I wanted to pray. It was hard to convince myself that it would even do any good when my prayers hadn’t been answered up until now. Continuing to pray a prayer that remained so unresolved had left me angry, feeling betrayed and confused. But it was time to change my request.
Please help me find what I am looking for, whether it is Brad or something else. Please don’t let me keep hurting all the time. Show me how to live a life that feels somewhat normal, whatever that means.

****

I didn’t sleep through the night, a reoccurring dream of Brad showing up at our high school and joining the football team kept making its way into my mind. But I got up early and took a long, hot shower as I prepared for the school day. Wrapped in two towels, one across my hair and the other around my body, I pushed the pile of clothes that had gathered on my vanity stool to the floor and sat in front of the lighted mirror.

I remembered sitting in the same exact spot for hours while preparing for dates with Brad. Trash and clutter had accumulated on top of the vanity table as it had sat unused since May. But beneath the discards were the dozens of tiny but beautiful bottles of perfume I always requested at Christmas time, bins of drugstore makeup I had once loved to experiment with along with Anna, and countless tubes of hair products and lotion. Looking at the scattered array of beauty products made me smile.
I can do this.

I blow-dried my hair and ran a straightener over the ends before pinning a few long strands away from my face. I hadn’t taken the time to notice how much my hair had grown over the summer and was surprised to find it fell halfway down my back when it wasn’t hastily thrown into a ponytail. After rummaging through unorganized makeup, I found everything I needed for a quick, natural face like I had typically worn to school the year before. I applied a dab of extra concealer under each eye to hide the bags that had developed since May.

Hanging in the back of my closet were several brightly colored tops that my mom had purchased for me in a summer sale at the department store where she worked. I decided on a purple and green chevron blouse and paired it with denim capris and the jeweled, tan sandals I had worn the previous summer for weeks on end.

Standing in front of my full-length mirror, I almost gasped when I saw my reflection. Looking back at me was a beautiful young woman I hardly recognized. My skin looked a bit paler, and my eyes seemed heavier, but there I was. If I hadn’t known any better I may have thought I was myself on the day of Brad’s graduation, carefree and hungry for life. I hoped it wasn’t too late to feel that way again.

I lifted my book bag from the floor and walked slowly down the hallway. Mom’s back was to me as I entered the kitchen; she stood over the stove watching scrambled eggs as they fried in the pan. My bag made a gentle
thud
as I dropped it onto the tile. When she heard the noise she turned towards me and a smile grew on her face.

“Look at you! You look beautiful. I knew that top would fit you perfectly,” she told me with a nod. “Breakfast is almost ready. Your dad took the kids to get doughnuts before school because of some silly bet the three of them had going.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I poured myself a cup of coffee with a splash of vanilla creamer and leaned up against the counter. Mom shoveled fluffy, yellow eggs onto two small plates and topped them off with strips of bacon.

“Is Anna picking you up or do you need a ride?” she asked as she carried the plates to the table, passing me a fork once we sat down across from each other.

“She’ll be here soon,” I said, picking up a piece of bacon with my fingertips. “Thanks for making this.”

Mom nodded as she chewed a forkful of eggs and we spent the next few minutes in silence, aside from the sound of our metal forks hitting the ceramic plates.

“I know you don’t want to talk about college,” she said suddenly. “But I still don’t think it’s something you can just write off and…”

“Mom. We can talk about it soon, okay.” I put down my fork. “Just not yet.”

“Lillian, the longer you wait your options are going to become fewer and fewer…”

“I’m not ready.” I was tempted to raise my voice, but I held myself back. “I’m really,
really
trying here. Please just give me some more time.”

I pushed my chair back from the table and collected my bag from the floor. When I looked up I could tell she was eyeing Brad’s ring hanging around my neck.

“Okay,” she agreed with a nod. “I’ll give you more time.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you tonight.”

“I love you, Lillian,” she said from her chair.

“I love you too, Mom,” I replied as I placed my plate and fork in the dishwasher.

Thoughts ran through my head as I went out the side door and waited for Anna under the carport.
I truly do love her and I know she only wants what’s best for me. I should tell her that more often
.
I should tell everyone in my family, and my friends, how much I care about them. Life is too short not to.

Anna’s blue car sped into the driveway and she peered over her sunglasses as I opened the passenger side door.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my car?” she asked with a laugh.

“Very funny.” I smiled back, gesturing at my new top. “You like?”

“Okay, seriously, you look awesome. You know you do! And yes, I want to borrow that shirt like, now!”

“Thanks. Just something new I’m trying out.”

“Well let me tell you something, girl.” Anna put the car in reverse and hit the gas as she stared into the rearview. “It’s working for you.”

I laughed and we turned up the radio when a familiar song came on, both of us singing along at the top of our lungs as we drove. I looked to her when it ended and fiddled with the volume knob.