LONG LOST

by Brent, Cora

  “Oh,” I say, hugging the pillow to my chest and wondering how bleak life must have seemed to those boys when they had no family, no resources, no one to give a damn what happened to them.

  I can sort of forgive Jay Phoenix for glaring at me. If the guy possesses some character quirks, they might be thanks to a terrible childhood.

  Lana chews her lips for a moment before continuing. “Anyway, Shane thinks of Jay as a brother so I’m reserving judgment. I think he’ll be fine after he gets more comfortable. Shane would love for him to stay in Hutton but admits that’s a long shot so he’ll just be around for the summer. We can all find a way to get along.”

  “Sure we can. I promise to continue inflicting my sparkling personality on him whether he appreciates it or not.”

  She gives my hand a grateful squeeze before rising from the bed and checking her hair in the mirrored closet door.

  Shane is now calling her name from Ruby’s kitchen. I still think of the house as Ruby’s. Shane hasn’t altered a thing about the outdated décor yet even though Lana’s been urging him to make some changes. It’s no insult to Ruby’s memory. Obviously she wanted him to have her house.

  Lana is laughing while Shane sings ‘Here Comes The Sun’ and then a door shuts, plunging the house into instant silence. I watch two hours of dogs getting into all kinds of hysterical pickles in their immaculate suburban neighborhood. The longer the show goes on the dumber it gets. I can’t believe important people sat around a conference table and decided this was something the world needed to see.

  I shut my laptop and consider how nice it would be to have a talking pet of my own. I’ve never had a pet at all. Perhaps Shane and Lana wouldn’t mind if I adopted a cat. A cat won’t judge me for sitting at home on Friday night in my cow pajamas. A cat would just be happy to see me.

  I peer into the pink tumbler I keep on the table beside my bed. It’s empty. I want a snack.

  Lana and I have our own kitchen, although it’s less equipped than a real kitchen. In a little alcove that probably was once a cozy reading corner we have a small fridge and a short counter that lifts up to reveal a small sink and electric stovetop.

  I’m considering the options my limited food inventory has to offer when I notice that the door separating the two living spaces has been left partially open. Keeping it closed was always standard practice out of respect for Ruby’s privacy but Lana has gotten into the habit of leaving it open now that she drifts between her room and Shane’s.

  It dawns on me that I’m not alone in the house, which is something I’ve kind of forgotten over the last few hours. I don’t hear anything but it’s barely ten p.m. Jay might be awake. He might be right there on the other side of this door, scowling on the sofa.

  I feel sneaky as I creep over to the door and peek into Ruby’s living room. The lights have all been left on, however there’s nothing to see but furniture and orange table lamps. I pull my head back in, somewhat relieved that I’m not going to be required to interact with a strange guy while clad in baggy cow pajamas.

  Nudging the door closed, I think of the details Lana shared about Jay’s history. Obviously there were not instant sparks between us but I’ll gladly be his friend. I must have imagined the disdain in his eyes. To my knowledge, Shane thinks I’m all right, so why would Jay immediately dislike me?

  He wouldn’t. Or at least, he shouldn’t.

  I have every reason to believe that tomorrow we’ll be on friendly terms.

  And yet I know we won’t be.

  A tiny puzzling storm stirs deep in the recesses of my mind.

  It has nothing to do with Jay. Of course it doesn’t.

  I’m exhausted after a long week of final exams. I’m worried about my mother. I’m stressed about earning a paycheck now that Beefcake Charlie’s is closed.

  And I’ve still got talking dogs on the brain. I’m not thinking clearly right now.

  Instead of snacking on junk food, I fill my tumbler with ice water and head to the bathroom to get ready for bed. After I spit toothpaste into the sink I stare at my wide-eyed reflection in the vanity mirror. I look no different than I did in high school. I wish I could at least get rid of these glasses but my allergies won’t cooperate with contact lenses and the idea of getting my vision surgically corrected makes me want to cry.

  I should be ready to pass out but I feel like I’ll be staring at the ceiling of my bedroom for hours. Lana’s bottle of herbal melatonin is waving at me on the shelf. I shake three tablets into my palm and wash them down with a gulp of water.

  Fifteen minutes later I am indeed staring at the ceiling but a pleasant fuzziness is beginning to eat the edges of my mind. This is why I would never use real pills and why I rarely drink more than two beers. I’m a lightweight, ready to go unconscious from three melatonin. I’m thinking of this afternoon, of lying on the quad while scratchy blades of grass tickle their way beneath my shirt. Something about that scene conjures the past. My eyes close and pictures appear; still shots of things that have long been shoved into a back door in my mind.

  Blistering summer days and dry dust. The delicate stems of yellow wildflowers. Their centers are brown, a soft brown the same shade of permanently tousled hair belonging to a boy. The boy has a habit of sifting fingers through his hair so often I doubt he realizes he’s doing it. He smiles when I bump his shoulder and laugh at him because we’re friends and friends can laugh at each other’s messy hair and friends can share butter pecan ice cream cones and friends can help nurse bruises after a beating and friends can keep each other’s secrets safe.

  He can’t do that thing with his hair anymore because it’s too short now and when I understand this I bolt upright with a silent scream that nearly shakes my soul loose.

  A desperate gasp greets the darkness and it has a meaning.

  “JOHNNY!”

  Somehow it’s fitting that right now the room is so dark I can see nothing in front of my face.

  It serves me right.

  Because earlier, out there on the bright patio with all the sunshine in the world to help me see I’d been blind, so blind, so utterly fucking blind.

  And now I’m going to suffer for it.

  Jonathan, Age 13

  There’s something like nine thousand people in Arcana and I don’t know them all but I know all the kids my age. There’s only one elementary school, one middle school, and one high school so there’s not much chance that I’d run into a kid I don’t recognize.

  But this girl I’ve never seen before.

  I’m walking out of Ice Dream with a cone in my hand when I spot her over by the bicycle racks that no one ever uses.

  Her hair is kind of blondish and tied back in a messy ponytail. The ugly black glasses she wears are too large for her face and even I can tell that her kitten-patterned t-shirt and frayed cutoffs wouldn’t impress the cool girls. But underneath all that she’s sort of cute.

  “Piece of shit,” she mutters to an old bicycle with a flat tire and a sagging chain. She gives the frame a small kick for emphasis. She’s got a temper. She’s interesting.

  And yet I was planning to walk right past her without saying a word. It’s not my thing to approach some strange girl and start talking. But when my shadow falls she looks up and sees that I’m staring at her.

  “Hey there,” she says. “Do you know how to fix a bike?”

  “Sometimes,” I admit. “But I don’t carry around an air pump in my back pocket so I can’t do anything about your tire.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “You think anyone will steal it if I just leave it right here for now?”

  “Not unless the junk collector stops by.”

  She laughs. I’m not used to making girls laugh. Usually their laughter is awarded to fuck ups and football kings. Guys at the top of the food chain. Guys like Rafe. My brother could collect enough for his own cheerleading squad just by picking the girls who are always trailing after him and giggling. Maybe they wouldn’t be so quick to follow him everywher
e if they knew his dangerous act isn’t an act.

  Or maybe they would.

  “What’s your name?” the girl says. “I’m Caris.”

  “Jonathan.”

  “And you live here?”

  “On the sidewalk? No.”

  Caris finds that funny. She flashes a wide grin that shows off a small gap between her two front teeth.

  “I’ve lived in Arcana all my life,” I explain. “Did you just move to town?”

  She shakes her head. “No, I’m just staying with my aunt for the rest of the summer. She doesn’t believe in the internet or even television so her house is boring as hell.”

  The news is a slight relief. She’s not from Arcana. She won’t care about who my family is. My last name would mean nothing to her.

  Caris cocks her head and looks me over.

  “How old are you?” she asks.

  “Thirteen.”

  She nods and I wonder if she’s thinking that I look younger than thirteen. I do. I know that. She’s slightly taller than me and it’s impossible to guess her age. She’s not as filled out as some of the other girls in my class but that means nothing. I’m glad she’s wearing a kitten t-shirt and has uncombed hair. The girls who layer makeup on their faces and show off their chests in tight shirts make me nervous.

  “Guess what, Jonathan?” she asks and I like how she says my name as if we’re already friends and she’s sharing a secret.

  “What?”

  “We’re the same age. Today is my birthday.”

  “No shit? Happy Birthday.”

  “Thanks. My aunt gave me five bucks and told me to come down here and find something to do. I think she just wanted me out of the house for a while because her sleazy boyfriend is coming over. God, he’s so gross. I don’t think he showers. Like, ever. What’s there to do around here for five bucks?”

  She talks fast and I need a few seconds to process her jumble of words.

  I hold up my cone, which has now begun to drip down the sides. “You could get some ice cream. Or else you could buy some nails at the hardware store. That’s about it.”

  “I’ll choose ice cream.” She grabs my elbow. “Come with me, okay?”

  I’m already being pulled down the sidewalk. I don’t mind at all. “Sure.”

  Caris orders a butter pecan double scoop waffle cone. Once it’s in her hand she immediately begins devouring it with impressive speed. There are only five tables in Ice Dream and they’re all taken so we go outside and finish our cones while leaning against the side of the building in the shade.

  She talks up a storm in between bites of ice cream. She’s from Dallas. She’ll be starting eighth grade in the fall, same as me. She likes school and loves animals, although she’s never been allowed to keep a pet. Her father gave her a phone for her birthday and she removes it from her back pocket to show it to me. It’s one of those new iPhones and it’s covered with a sparkly purple case. I feel a stab of envy because I’ll never have the money for one of those. Rafe doesn’t even have one and he’s in high school.

  I’ve tossed the remains of my ice cream cone in the trash because it’s mostly melted and I don’t feel like dealing with it anymore but Caris consumes every bit of hers and then wipes her sticky fingers on her denim shorts.

  She gets real quiet when I ask her why she’s not spending the summer in Dallas with her parents. Arcana isn’t a place people visit just for fun. There’s nothing here to see except the meteor crater with its dismal little science museum. If not for oil and the high school’s state football record, it’s likely nobody would have heard of Arcana. Unless they’re interested in old murder stories. But I’m not going to bring that up to Caris. I’m not at all proud of where I come from but the people around here make sure I don’t forget about it.

  Caris fiddles with a frayed piece of string that hangs from her cutoff shorts. She swallows hard and keeps looking down.

  “Three months ago my mom had a baby girl and she died.”

  That’s a lot more horrible than anything I might have imagined she’d say. I feel my mouth fall open.

  Caris takes a deep breath. “She was born way too early and was stillborn. My mom has always had problems but after that she really lost it. She slept for days at a time. She broke all the mirrors. And she kept trying to hurt herself. She had to go stay in a hospital and my dad is busy with work so he decided to send me here to stay with my Aunt Vay for the rest of the summer.”

  “I’m sorry.” I don’t know why people say that when a person tells them about something awful. It’s the right thing to say if you accidentally step on someone’s foot. It sounds stupid right now. I reach out and touch Caris’s shoulder, giving her a little pat like you might give a dog. That seems worse than mumbling dumbass ‘I’m sorry’ words all over the place. I yank my hand back and stuff it in my pocket. Maybe she never noticed.

  But Caris raises her head and gives me a slight smile. Her eyes are watery and she briefly removes her glasses to wipe at her eyes with the heel of her palm.

  “Thanks, Johnny. Can I call you Johnny?”

  Nobody calls me Johnny. I hate that nickname. Usually. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

  “I don’t want to go back to my aunt’s house for a while. Can you hang out some more or do you need to go?”

  The way she looks at me is funny, like she’s nervous about how I’ll answer because she’s not sure I will want to hang out with her. I’ve got a few friends but none of them are girls. Then again, I can’t remember meeting any other girls like Caris.

  “I can hang out all afternoon,” I say and don’t add that I could probably hang out all night too and into tomorrow and possibly the next day before anyone in my house would notice. My mom is off with her new boyfriend most of the time and only comes home to get clothes and give me a few bucks for food. It’s a safe bet that my older brother Rafe is currently raising hell somewhere because that’s what Rafe does.

  Caris claps her hands together like I’ve just delivered the best news ever. She’s actually really pretty.

  “Great! Let’s go somewhere.”

  If I lived in a nice house, or any house, I’d invite her there. Ever since the bank took our house three years ago my mom’s been renting a place in the trailer park. I don’t want to show it to Caris, especially because there’s no guarantee that Rafe’s not lurking around somewhere.

  “Have you seen the meteor crater yet?” I ask because I suspect that it’s the kind of thing that would appeal to her. There aren’t a ton of options in Arcana. The nearest decent mall is twenty miles and three bus changes away. Maybe we can do that next time if we hang out again. I hope we do.

  Caris is all over the meteor crater idea. She’s got a few dollars left and buys two bottled waters from the gas station. She won’t accept any money for mine when I try to pay her back, which makes me feel kind of weird, like she’s taking me out to dinner or something.

  The walk to the crater will take less than half an hour if we cut through a couple of fields instead of sticking to the road but I choose a roundabout path because there’s one spot in Arcana that’s worse than any other spot. The location is marked by large bronze memorial plaque. My mom once told me that the families of Richard and Nancy Chapel took up a collection to pay for it. She told me that fact with some bitterness. She couldn’t understand why anyone would want to mark the site of a gruesome murder that happened decades ago. I’m not sure I understand it either. We’d probably feel differently if our connection was to the victims. She said my father never went there, not once in all the years he spent growing up in Arcana. Rafe told me high school kids go there sometimes to drink and screw around and hold these weird little rituals where they try to contact the dead. ‘Nancy, are you there? Are you in pain or are you at peace? Is Richard with you?’ Rafe goes there too but not because he’s trying to contact ghosts. He bragged that he’s fucked ten girls right on that spot, the spot where Nancy Chapel was found, and the thought makes me physically sick
but I couldn’t tell him that or he’d keep talking. He’d pin me down and force me to hear all the details that I never wanted to know.

  As for me, I won’t go there.

  Not ever.

  “Hey, Johnny.” Caris nudges me when we’re walking through a field of wild asters. “Who did that to your face?”

  I touch my fingertips to the sore spot beneath my left eye. It’s not really swollen anymore so I’d kind of forgotten about it but she must be able to see the bruise. “Eh, I was in a fight, that’s all.”

  She’s interested. “Did you win?”

  No. I always lost when I fought Rafe. I never start the fights.

  “I got in a few good punches,” I tell her and she looks impressed so I feel like less of a loser. My teachers never ask why I often show up at school with bruises. I don’t think they care. Every now and then my mother will take notice and scream about kicking Rafe out but she never does. When she accuses him of growing up to be just like the worst of the Hempstead men he just laughs at her.

  Being a Hempstead doesn’t bother Rafe. At least not anymore. When he was younger he used to have a hard time because the kids at school would say shit about our father and our grandfather. But he got older and bigger and people are afraid to make him angry now. On the football field he’s a monster and around here Friday night games are everything. The annual hunger for a state title means all his other flaws get overlooked but in Rafe’s case no one’s doing him any favors by refusing to rein him in. Someday he’ll go too far. I hope I’m not around when he does.

  There was a time when the name Hempstead meant something different but you’d have to reach back about a hundred years to find it. I’m told my family used to own half the land in town. I wonder what that was like.

  Caris is fascinated with the meteor crater. Thanks to all the rain this past spring, there’s a lot of green ground cover at the moment and it makes the view a lot prettier. It’s too bad the museum is closed today because Mrs. Turlington is always at the front desk and on summer days she lets me in for free. She used to be on the cheerleading squad with my mother in high school. That’s the kind of town Arcana is.