If You're Gone

  “Lillian?”

  I heard my name but it wasn’t from the detective, it was my mom. She rested her hand on my back.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. “Is this too much?”

  “No, no. I’m fine.” I shook my head. Snap out of it. “Brad and I have been dating for about six months.” I tried to study Detective Padron’s face. I couldn’t read his vacant expression. He looked back at me for a long moment before retreating back to his notebook.

  “Would you say you consider your relationship with Brad to be serious?”

  I nodded. “He loves me.” I glanced down at my hands and picked at the dry skin on the edges of my fingers. I didn’t like how the words sounded when they reached my tongue, as though they were in his defense. See, he’s a good guy. He loves a good girl like me. Or does he…

  “And for how long has he been telling you that?”

  “Well, not long.”

  “Define, ‘not long’,” Detective Padron said, his eyebrows furled.

  “I mean, the first time he said he loved me was the night of graduation. When he brought me home.”

  He began writing again, more frantically than before.

  “So, just to clarify, you are telling me the first time he told you he loved you was on your front porch the night he went missing?”

  Well, not exactly. “Yes.” I could feel my face growing red and hoped no one would notice. I didn't know how to explain why I had lied; it had been such a simple slip of the tongue that now felt like a blatant lie. But I couldn’t take it back.

  “Yet you do not believe that he planned to leave that night? Even though he was telling you this for the first time?” He wasn’t asking, he was telling. He looked to my parents.

  “Lillian,” my mom cut in. “It does sound like he may have had other intentions behind what he said. Are you sure nothing seemed strange? You didn’t get any feelings that he was trying to tell you…”

  Oh no. What have I done?

  “No!” I interjected. “We had a perfect picnic on the lake after graduation, it was just a really great night, that’s all. He wasn’t telling me he loved me as a goodbye. I’m positive.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watched my dad offer a small nod to the detective. He closed his notepad and straightened his back. It was over.

  “Lillian, that’s all I need from you for today if you have told me everything.” He cocked his head to the side as he spoke, undoubtedly some sort of police intimidation tactic. It’s not working.

  My mind raced back to the window, knowing it was my last chance to come clean. But why is it important? It’s nothing more than a minor detail… right? Or could the fact that he returned to the window to tell me he loved me instead of simply saying it on the front porch in some way de-bunk the premeditation story that the detective is so desperate to believe? I knew my parents would hear ‘he came to my window’ and automatically assume I had made a nightly ritual of sneaking out, or worse, sneaking him in. I so desperately wanted to find Brad, to have him home, but I wondered if shedding light on this minor detail would only make me a victim of house arrest when (if) he returned?

  “I think that’s enough for now,” Dad told him before I could say otherwise. “The past twenty-four hours or so have been really tough.”

  “I understand,” he said. “Well, Lillian, you have been very helpful.”

  No, I haven’t. All I’ve done is add tick marks to your tally of reasons why you shouldn’t waste your time looking for Brad.

  Detective Padron reached out to shake my parents’ hands and motioned for mine last.

  “Will you please talk to Lizard again?” I asked as my hand met his grasp. His grip was strong; my bony fingers were crushed up against one another as he squeezed.

  “It only makes sense to speak with a man that willingly goes by the name of Lizard,” he said with a condescending smile, revealing his surprisingly white teeth for the first time. “I’ll be in touch.”

  My dad held the door for him as he left; Mom put her arm around my shoulders and pulled me close.

  “I'm sure it's hard finding out Brad isn’t who you thought he was. I’m sorry.” She nodded to Dad and he headed into the kitchen, leaving us alone for a mother-daughter crisis talk.

  “What? No.” I pulled away from her grasp. “He isn’t some criminal like the detective is making him out to be. You know him better than that!”

  “And I would have liked to think that you know him better than that,” Mom said. “But if he lied to you about having a criminal record then you have no idea what else he was lying to you about, Lillian.” It was obvious this wouldn't be a comforting chat-it was a confrontation.

  “He didn’t lie about his past, Mom.” He wasn't truthful, either. “I didn’t ask him if he had a record. I don’t care what happened before we were together, it doesn’t matter!” What are the lyrics to that old boy band song? I don’t care where you've been or what you've done… it only matters if you love me...

  “Well then it sounds like you didn’t want to know very much about him, did you?” Her tone dripped with condescension. “That is a very childish way of thinking. And if this relationship is as serious as you have made it out to be… Lillian, I just hope you have not made any big mistakes.”

  “No!” I squealed. “This is completely unfair. Everyone is judging him and assuming the worst and he isn’t here to defend himself. You’re focusing on all the wrong things.” I wanted to work up a few tears to help remind her what I was going through, but I couldn’t and I wasn't sure why.

  Mom stared at me silently, which didn’t happen very often. After a long moment, her eyes broke away from mine and she shifted her gaze out the picture window as she spoke.

  “Regardless of where Brad is now, I want you to think long and hard about how much you really know about him and what this relationship means. You are still young…”

  “I’m seventeen!”

  “Exactly,” she said, turning her face towards me. “There is just so much that goes into a serious relationship and so many things you have to know about a person before you begin planning a future with them…”

  “I know, Mom.” I had to stop her. “We don’t need to talk about this right now. All we need to do is find him. Please.” I chewed on my thumbnail as I searched her eyes for any sign of compassion.

  She let out a heavy sigh. “Just come and get some lunch.”

  Mom headed towards the kitchen, pushing her way through the swinging door that separated the rooms. The idea of sitting around the table with my family, listening to Graham and Eliza giggle and carry on without a care in the world, made me cringe.

  “I’m not hungry,” I told her through the door. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “Alone?” she asked emphatically, sticking her face in the doorway.

  “Yeah. Who else am I going to go with?” Not Brad.

  “I don’t think that’s a very smart thing to do. Not after all that has happened…”

  “Mom!” I threw my hands in the air. “Two minutes ago you were convinced Brad ran away to become a drug dealer or something. Now you’re telling me I can’t even walk down my own street because he is missing?”

  “Our street is exactly where he went missing from, Lillian,” she said as she returned to the living room. “You need to consider your own safety.”

  “Wait. Are you saying you believe that something happened to him and he didn’t just run away?” I asked. “Do you believe me?”

  It took her a moment to answer. “I don’t know, Lillian,” she sighed. “I just don’t know.”

  In the kitchen, I could hear Eliza relaying the details of craft time in that morning’s Sunday school class to Dad and Graham. Mom looked towards the door with a long face.

  “Just be careful,” she finally said. “Take your phone.”

  “I will.”

  “I’ll save you some casserole.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I nodded, not wanting to start another ar
gument by telling her I had lost all traces of an appetite since Brad had disappeared.

  Mom pulled me in for a long hug and stroked the back of my head as she held me. I had grown a few inches taller than her over the summer before eighth grade, but in that moment, I felt so small in her arms.

  Unasked Questions Go Unanswered

  The sun was bright and the warm breeze made the green leaves on the trees around our house dance as if celebrating the first Sunday of summer. It was a beautiful day; too beautiful for the occasion. It was the type of day Brad and I would have loved to spend at the lake with Anna and Thomas, swimming and laughing until the moon was high in the sky. But instead I was alone; walking down the street Brad vanished from as the police, my parents, and assumedly the rest of the town, were dragging his name through the mud.

  The stretch of road that divided Anna’s property line from mine was enveloped by dense rows of trees, their branches stretching high across the roadway and providing me with shade as I walked. Somewhere in this tunnel of foliage, Brad disappeared. He could have met with any fate that night that would have gone unseen by anyone on the other side of the trees. I knew the search groups had combed the area the night before, but I couldn’t help but bring out my inner CSI. I looked for tire tracks, scraps of clothing, or broken branches that might signify some sort of accident or struggle. If he was struck by a car, possibly a drunk driver leaving one of the local parties, he may have been tossed off the road into the ditch. The driver could have panicked and decided to force Brad into their vehicle and hold him somewhere to cover their tracks. Or…

  I tried to shake off the grimmer possibilities and think back to Friday night. Did any cars drive by after Brad left? If so, I hadn’t bothered to notice. I had lain there thinking about Brad until I dozed off. Who knows what could have been happening to Brad just a few hundred yards from my window while I was fast asleep. The Lees had asked Anna whether she had seen anything that night since her house sat only a quarter mile from mine and past the wall of trees. But she had been at Thomas’s until after eleven and then slept over at Tess’ house across town. Anna’s mom and stepdad claimed to have been asleep since just after nine o’clock, exhausted from the work week. The walls of Anna’s house were potential witnesses, but of course, they wouldn’t be talking.

  I studied the ground next to the road, letting my eyes cover only a few square inches at a time. Grass, dirt, leaves, weeds, a scattering of small broken branches and twigs; nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Where were the size eleven footprints, ripped pieces of Brad's t-shirt, DNA covered cigarette butts, trace amounts of blood spatter? There wasn’t so much as a crumpled beer can to be found. It just didn’t make sense. Where are you, Brad?

  A rustling sound came from behind the trees, causing the hair on my arms to stand on end. I stopped in my tracks and slowly turned my head around, thinking back to my mom’s words of caution and safety.

  “Hello?” I whimpered.

  There was no answer, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me. I stood in the middle of the road, frozen, as I waited.

  “Hello,” I said again, more assertive this time. “Brad?”

  I thought I heard a branch snap to my left but knew my mind was good at playing tricks on me. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t imagine him again. I couldn’t decide if I was imagining it was him, or someone-or something-else. Or am I imagining it at all? I took a few light steps toward the sound and waited again, holding my breath. I jumped as another rustling noise came from the same direction.

  “Who’s there?”

  I considered parting the thick branches with my arms and attempting to see through to the other side, but I was afraid of what I might find. I made myself take one more step towards the tree line as the rustling became frantic and the sound moved quickly in the other direction, running away from where I stood. I wasn't sure what I wanted it to be. A deer? A large rabbit? A barn cat? A bum living in the woods who is responsible for Brad’s disappearance? Or Brad himself… running from me because he knew I had learned his secrets.

  Although I told myself it had been nothing but a small woodland creature, I took off in a sprint towards my house. I no longer felt safe on my quiet street in my small town with Brad gone. This place where I had grown up and made so many memories was now a potential crime scene. And the person who was supposed to protect me was gone without a trace.

  ****

  Once I was safely inside my bedroom, I called the Lees and we spoke at length regarding what to do next. I didn’t ask about Brad’s criminal history, although I wasn’t sure if it was because I didn’t want to upset them by bringing it up or because I didn’t want to know the truth. Mrs. Lee invited me over to their house and I borrowed Mom’s SUV instead of attempting another walk down the dismal roadway.

  I had imagined that I would see reporters camped out on their front lawn, waiting with microphones at bay like guns in a Wild West duel. But instead, the house was quiet, eerily so. Brad’s silver two-door truck that I had grown to love was parked in the driveway in its usual spot, with splatters of mud around the wheel well. On Saturday mornings, he would always hose off any debris from the week prior, yet today was Sunday and the brown residue was baking in the sun. He would never leave his truck like this on purpose.

  As I waited on the front steps for an answer to my timid knocking, I glanced at my surroundings. There were no undercover cops sitting in dark cars staking out the premises, no colorful ribbons tied around trees. Everything appeared to be normal, even though just inside the brick and mortar of the Lee residence a family was hurting, missing an intricate piece of their puzzle.

  “Hi, Lillian,” young Montana said as she greeted me at the front door.

  “Hi, sweetie,” I said as I gave her a quick hug. “How are you?”

  “I’m all right I guess,” she said with a shrug. “Everyone is pretty sad around here.”

  “I know. It’s sad at my house too.”

  Mrs. Lee, or Janice as she had asked me to call her, came into the entryway and offered me a tired smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Come on in, Lillian. Thanks for coming.”

  She tussled Montana’s hair. “Why don’t you go see if Daddy needs help with the posters, okay sweetheart?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Montana nodded and headed towards the kitchen. “Bye, Lillian,” she said over her shoulder.

  “I’ll see you later.”

  Janice owned an interior design business, and the home reflected her work. Perfectly placed accent furniture hugged the cream-colored walls in the foyer. I let my fingertips drag the wooden railing as she led me upstairs and through a dim hallway that led to Brad’s bedroom.

  “I thought this might help,” she said as we climbed the carpeted steps.

  The door was closed as if his room had been quarantined off from the rest of the house. She grabbed the handle and swung it open as a burst of cool, fresh air escaped from inside. I had been in this room dozens of times yet without Brad in it, it seemed unfamiliar. The deep blue walls were covered in generic posters and paintings that were dispersed evenly around the room. I had never noticed how impersonal the décor was-it was almost as though the Lees had purchased the floor model of a teenage boy’s bedroom.

  Brad’s bed was made, although the checkered comforter was crooked and crumpled in the corners like it had been quickly tossed over the mattress. The backpack he had carried with him to school every day, and sometimes to our picnics in the park, was propped neatly against his desk instead of strewn onto the floor as it typically would have been. The photo of us at prom rested in a brown frame that lay on its back on his nightstand, carelessly pushed over or shoved out of the way. My heart sank as I stared at the picture.

  “The police went through his room yesterday, just to look for anything… suspicious,” Janice said as she noticed my eyes on the photo. She picked it up and stood it upright. “They tried to put everything back in place but I'm sure they just knocked this over.
”

  I nodded as I continued to examine the space. I had hoped I would be overcome with Brad’s presence, yet I couldn’t feel him in this room. His bedroom might as well have been a hotel room where he once stayed. What else did the police touch?

  “You’re welcome to spend as much time in here as you'd like.” Janice motioned towards the bed as she parked herself on the mattress next to the footboard. “I must have sat on his bed for an hour this morning. It’s just so hard not knowing what to do and where to look for him. Being in here was the only peace I could find.”

  “Thanks.”

  I pulled the rolling chair out from in front of Brad’s black desk and sat down gently. I couldn’t bring myself to sit on the bed next to his mom. It would have seemed like we were mourning him. We sat in silence for several minutes, both of us scanning the room and searching for obvious clues of Brad’s whereabouts. I thought back to the countless crime TV shows I watched in the afternoons. There weren’t any obvious trapdoors cut out in the wooden floor, no paintings with moving eyeballs or symbolic maps with push pins connected by string hanging on the walls. If Brad had intended to leave behind some kind of mystery for us to solve, it wasn’t evident in this room.

  I bit my tongue for as long as I could but my curiosity was getting the best of me. “What was Brad arrested for?” I blurted.

  Janice shook her head and sighed. “Oh, Lillian. I guess he didn’t tell you.”

  “No.” I shrugged. “But the detective did.”

  “He had quite a troubled childhood. He went through a lot-a lot more than any child should have to go through,” she said. “And after we moved here, when Brad was in sixth grade, he just seemed to fall into the wrong crowd.”