by Violet Paige
“Have you called the hospitals?” I pushed.
“I did. But not past Carteret County.”
That was something I could start working on while we drove. I pulled up a list of medical centers in the surrounding counties.
“What about his bank account? His credit cards?”
My father shook his head. “I don’t have access to that stuff. I don’t know where he banks.”
If Garrett had used his cards it would certainly give us a location. If he had left Atlantic Beach, it might make it harder to find him, but it would be something. Right now, we needed a starting point.
“Did you call Kelly?”
“No. Why? Why would I call her?”
“Dad, she’s his kryptonite. You didn’t try her?”
“What the hell does that even mean? Kryptonite.” He slowed as we approached a red light.
I sighed. “They had the most toxic relationship. If she came back to town, or reached out to him it would explain why he ran off suddenly.”
“What was so toxic about it?” He pushed on the gas as the light turned to green.
I stared at him in disbelief. “Have you actually blocked out the past five years of our lives?”
“What are you trying to say?”
“It means if you had paid any attention, you would know that Garrett dated Kelly off and on for years. That she’s the one who introduced him to coping with his problems with alcohol and drugs. She’s the one who convinced him he didn’t need therapy. She’s the one who thought they should get married and move to California.” I was so angry I could almost crumple the coffee cup in my fist. “She took his money, Dad. She cheated on him. She ruined him. Where were you for that? Where in the hell have you been?”
“I’ve been trying to put my life back together,” he yelled.
I stiffened in my seat. My shoulders seized. My breath stuck in my lungs.
He exhaled, gripping the steering wheel. “It hasn’t been easy for anyone, Emily.”
“I didn’t say it was,” I seethed. “But you should know this stuff. You should have done more.” I flinched as soon as I said it. It was wrong. It wasn’t fair. I wasn’t the only one in the car who was scared. What I said was insensitive.
Instead of retaliating he reached forward and tapped the computer screen, filling the car with an electric guitar solo. It was too loud to make my calls to the medical centers or to Kelly. We didn’t speak another word until we arrived at the auto shop.
21
The guys my brother had gone into business with weren’t much help. Other than a spare key to his apartment they couldn’t give us any leads.
We left the auto garage and my father drove us to the one-bedroom place Garrett rented on the sound-side of the island. He had a parking lot view. We climbed the steps to the second floor.
“Garrett?” I knocked on the door before trying the key. “Garrett, it’s Emily.” I stepped inside, Dad right behind me.
I walked over a drawing and then another. I looked down. The floor was covered in art work.
“What the hell is this?” There was anger in his voice.
My father bent to pick up one of the sketches. He held it forward.
I moved toward the bedroom. The covers were strewn across the bed, but it didn’t look as if Garrett had neglected the apartment. I’d seen the state of his room when he went on one of his tirades. It wasn’t like this. The hamper was empty. The bathroom was clean. I checked the trashcan—no needles.
I met my father in the living room. He was busy shuffling through Garrett’s art.
“Does he do this often? Draw like this?”
I nodded. “Always.”
He stacked the sketch paper and sat on the couch. “Did you see anything in his room?”
“It’s surprisingly neat. I don’t know what that means. If it means anything.” I pulled up a milk crate and took a seat. I was relieved I hadn’t found any drugs.
Quiet seconds passed. “Dad, why don’t we split up? I’ll get a car and I’ll drive around here. You can try New Bern or retrace where you’ve already been. I think it would be better.”
He stared at the trunk Garrett had turned into a coffee table. “It’s true I don’t know him like you do.”
“That’s not what—” I hadn’t planned on lecturing him about how much he didn’t know about his adult children. It was obvious. It was clear. We were all strangers.
He held up his hand and I pressed my lips together.
“He is my son, but I don’t know a damn thing about him.” He looked at me. His eyes clouded. “And what if it’s too late now?”
I shook my head. “No. We’re not even going to think that. Ever.” I glared at him. “Garrett is—he does this, Dad. He does this shit and it sucks. We worry. We get scared. But, it’s not the last time.” I never let myself go there. “It’s never the last time because he has an illness. And maybe when we find him this time you can start to accept that. You can figure out how to live with the fact that you have a son with bi-polar disorder.”
“I know about his diagnosis.”
“But you don’t like it. And Mom pretends it’s as trivial as if he were left-handed.”
“Of course I don’t like it.” He balled his fists. “This isn’t what I thought his life would be like. Or yours or mine.”
“You didn’t like it so you left?”
“I’ve been here. I’ve always been here if your brother or mother needed me.”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to argue with him. I didn’t want to fall into that pit.
“I think it’s best if we do this on our own. Let’s make a list of places and split them up. You can drive me to a rental car place.”
“I’d rather not. I didn’t call you to do this on your own.” He rubbed his palms across his knees.
I threw my hands in the air. “Well, that’s how it goes. I didn’t come down here to make you feel better about what’s happened since your divorce. I didn’t fly here to help you get to know Garrett better or teach you how to be a better dad. I came here to find my brother. That’s it. I want to know Garrett is safe. He is my focus. Not you, Dad. Not this time. We should split up the search.”
“Then I guess we need to get you a car.” He stood and walked toward the door, closing it behind him. I heard his footsteps on the outside staircase.
My heart was in my stomach. I couldn’t believe I had said all of that. That I had thrown more pain in his face when he was searching for his son. Everything was locked and twisted together. One part couldn’t be fixed without rummaging through all the wreckage. And right now none of us had time or energy to start at the beginning. The first scrap had to wait until Garrett was found.
That night I slept in my old bedroom. I had gone to all the bars at the beach. The ones that were still open in the off-season. I had checked surfing spots. I stopped at artist studios, parks, and the movie theater. I asked strangers if they had seen Garrett, showing them a picture I had of him on my phone. I messaged his friends on Facebook. I called people we used to hang out with in high school. No one had heard from him. Not even Kelly.
And as sick as it felt, I was disappointed when she said she hadn’t talked to him. As bad as it would have been for him to be in touch with her, I would have chosen that over this. Over not knowing where in the hell he was. If he was safe. If he was alive.
I kept my agreement with my father. I checked in with him every hour until I pulled into the driveway. He said he was going to stay out and keep looking.
My mom didn’t bother to knock before walking into my room.
“Has anyone called?” she asked.
“No.” I had plugged my phone in next to the bed. I was down to ten percent of my battery.
I looked at her. Her hair was pulled back in a clip. She wore the pearl earrings my father had helped Garrett and me buy for her fortieth birthday. I remember picking them out. The three of us were excited to surprise her with something so expensive and extra
vagant.
But now they seemed dull and faded. Maybe because she rubbed them often out of nervousness. She touched her finger to one now.
“I can try the police again. See if anything has come up.”
“Mom, don’t do that. They don’t want us to keep calling.”
“Someone has to do something. Someone has to convince them Garrett needs help.”
He did need help, but not police intervention. He needed people to keep him accountable. A mother and father who were a team. A woman in his life who saw what an amazing creative person he was. A sister he could count on.
“We’re doing it, Mom. We are doing everything we can. Garrett doesn’t want us to find him.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because he hasn’t called.”
She chewed the side of her fingernail. “You think that’s a good sign?”
“I don’t really know what to think, other than we need to know he’s ok.”
“He has to be ok. He has to be.”
I looked at the creases around her eyes. The lines around her mouth. The brushes of smudged mascara.
“What if I make tea or a pot of decaf?” I suggested. She wasn’t going to sleep, and as I fatigued as I was I wasn’t going to fall asleep any time soon. “We could see if there is an old movie on.”
She nodded. “Ok. Tea?”
“Come on.” I put an arm around her and led her to the kitchen.
Sometime during Casablanca, we both fell asleep in the living room. I was curled up in the recliner and my mom stretched out on the couch.
I awoke with a pain in the side of my neck that spread to my shoulder. I rubbed it while I stretched my arm toward the ceiling. In the fog of my mind, I knew I had dreamed about Vaughn. His smile tugged at a memory I couldn’t quite pull into focus. I blinked trying to catch the remnants of it. I missed him.
I had moved my phone cord to the living room outlet before we started the movie last night. I checked to see if I had missed any calls or texts. There had to be something from one of my brother’s friends.
There was a text from Greer.
Checking on you. Any news?
I sighed and texted back.
No. Nothing to report.
Let me know if you need me.
Thanks.
Should I come down?
No. Thank you. No. Pres and those senators need you.
I checked my email. There was one from Lana Foley. She wanted to meet today to go over the next steps of her case. I responded, telling her to call Meg and schedule an appointment for next week. I had hope I would be back by then. Next I emailed Jessie and Gregory to let them know I’d be out of town for at least another day or two and to please send over the Foley files to Max. He could at least get more familiar with the case while I was away, even if I couldn’t keep our meeting today.
I layered my mother with another blanket before walking to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee while she slept.
I was glad she wasn’t awake yet. Today would be another stressful difficult day. She needed peace where she could find it.
I opened and closed the cabinets softly, sparing her any jarring noises. And then my phone beeped.
It was one of my messenger accounts.
Garrett.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
Hi. I’m coming home.
I almost dropped the phone.
Where are you?
I waited. My hands shook.
I need to talk to you without Mom and Dad. Can you meet me?
Yes. Where? Where are you? I’m in NB.
Almost at my place.
I’ll be there in an hour.
That gave me fifteen minutes to get my stuff together and sneak out of the house without waking up my mother.
I ran to my room and got dressed. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, grabbed my purse, and tiptoed out the back door. It was on the opposite end of the house from the living room. I prayed she wouldn’t hear the rental car start up.
I drove as fast as I could to Atlantic Beach, cursing each red light I hit on the way. What if he changed his mind? What if he was scared I would betray him? Things could change with Garrett’s moods so quickly. What if this was one of those times?
I parked at his condominium complex and raced up the stairs.
Only yesterday I had been here with our father. Looking for clues. Praying my brother wasn’t dead. The nausea swept through me. What in the hell was going on? My knees almost buckled underneath me.
“Garrett?” I knocked.
The door opened and I stared at my brother. He was wearing a full beard.
“Hey.” He smiled.
“Where have you been?” I betrayed my own promise. The deal I had made with myself not to be angry when I found him.
He put his hands up in defense. The mannerism was so much like my father’s. “Just hear me out.”
“Damn it, Garrett. I flew down here in the middle of the night. Do you realize Dad called the police? We searched hospitals? Mom is about to have a mental breakdown.”
“Hold on. Hold on. Come inside first before you tear my head off.”
I glared at him as I walked inside.
“At least you know I’m angry.”
He shrugged. “Morgan told me to call you sooner.”
“Morgan? Who is Morgan?”
He grinned. “She’s the one, Emily. The girl.”
“Holy shit. We’ve been searching the morgue for your stupid ass and you’ve been with a girl?”
“I never asked you to look for me,” he shot back.
I spun on my heels. I’d never wanted to hit my brother as much as I did now.
“You’re as arrogant as Dad.”
“Shit. You are mad.”
“Mad doesn’t really come close.” I slumped onto the couch. I didn’t know if I had the energy left to fight.
“I want you to be happy for me.”
“Happy about what? A new girlfriend?”
“Yes, she’s first on the list.” He grabbed a soda from the fridge. I wished I had brought coffee with me. Mom would be waking up any minute. I kept my phone close.
“Tell me.” I buried my face in my hands. “Tell me what this two-week thing was all about.”
I would give Garrett fifteen minutes before I called our parents and let them know he was alive. After that I didn’t know what would happen. He wasn’t any of the things I expected to find. There were no tears. No blood-shot eyes. No smell of alcohol. He looked rested and excited.
My backup plan had been to have him entered into treatment immediately once I found him. But sitting a few feet from him, I didn’t think that was necessary.
“When I started doing graphics for the shop I started talking to the tech company who hosted the website. We had a lot of technical issues because they couldn’t handle the art I wanted loaded on the page.”
I knew he was sparing me the specifics of the code jargon.
“Ok?”
“And the person they put me in touch with was Morgan.” His eyes had an extra spark when he said her name. “And that’s when things changed.”
“Changed in what way?”
“She made me want to be a better man, Emily. She made me want to do things for myself that I should have been doing all along.”
I sat forward. “Like what?”
“Like stay on my med schedule. Like stop dodging my therapy.”
“What?”
He grinned. The beard was growing on me. I guessed that was Morgan’s influence too.
“I don’t know what it was about her. It was just that connection. The thing I’d always been looking for. And she didn’t see me as an illness. She saw me in spite of it.”
“I see you in spite of it. You’re my brother.”
“I know you do. But I can’t tell anyone I’m bi-polar without them looking at me as if I’m part troll.”
“That’s because people don’t understand. And it doesn’t help th
at you don’t stay on your medication. You don’t take care of yourself. You give people a reason to see the worst in you instead of the other way around.”
“And she just didn’t care. She fell for me anyway.”
I wasn’t going to fall for it like Garrett did. I didn’t believe that one angel had swooped in and delivered my brother to some saving grace. To a path of magical redemption. He had been with her for maybe two months. I had spent twenty years with this.
“I’m glad you have a new girlfriend. That’s great. And I’m glad she is supportive of healthy choices for your treatment. But what about the two weeks? Where have you been? You walked away from your job. You didn’t talk to your friends. This is the kind of stuff you do when you’re not ok.”
“I’ll call them and apologize.”
“That’s great, but you aren’t telling me what happened. I drove around with Dad yesterday. Dad,” I pressed the point.
He chuckled. “Sorry I missed that. Also, glad it wasn’t me.”
“You think it’s funny we thought you were dead or shaking in a dirty bathroom somewhere?” I hopped from the sofa. “What you do matters to me. It matters to all of us. So this time you left because of some happiness journey it sounds like? Your happiness led to my misery. You should have seen Mom. She’s a wreck.”
He stared at me. “Emily, I wasn’t trying to drag you in to anything. You live in D.C. You have your life. How was I supposed to know they’d ask you to fly down?”
“Because when someone in your family goes missing that’s what you do!” I was flushed. My head spun.
“Calm down. I’m sorry. Really, I should have checked in. Or out or whatever.”
“I don’t know what to say anymore.” I pulled out my phone. “They need to know you’re alive. You can tell them your version of whatever it is that happened.”
I realized in my hands was the decision to call one parent before the other. To choose who was more deserving. I scowled. I dialed my mother.