I'm Not Missing

by Carrie Fountain

  “What about Isaac?”

  “Over it,” she said, shoving her phone into her bag. I’d guessed it was him she’d been texting. I wondered what he’d said to make her mad, but she clearly didn’t feel like sharing and I didn’t care enough to ask.

  “Will you put your phone on silent, at least?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mom,” she said. She finished the last sip of her wine and shoved the half-empty bottle back into her bag.

  Joe and the others had given up on the posts and were starting a fire with a couple tires someone had brought out from the bed of their truck and tossed into the pit.

  “See!” Syd called out. “Told you.” No one but Tomás looked over. He shook his head and gave a halfhearted glare. She locked her arm with mine again and we walked back to my car, using the flashlight from my phone to look out for rattlesnakes.

  It was a relief to get in the car and close the door and suddenly mute the music’s shrill, swollen guitars. With thorny mesquite everywhere, it took forever to turn my car around. Syd barked advice the whole time.

  “This isn’t it,” she said when we finally got onto the paved road that led back into town. We laughed.

  * * *

  La Posta was packed. When the hostess told us it could be a half-hour wait, I suggested we go to Napolito’s, but Syd insisted. “It’s only seven,” she said. “We can wait.” The Granny was implied in her tone. We sat on a bench and I was beginning to feel grumpy when the hostess came with our menus much sooner than a half an hour and showed us to our table in the back of the restaurant.

  La Posta was the one of the oldest restaurants in town. It was a tourist trap, for sure, dripping with piñatas and (probably fake) Mexican folk art. The waitstaff wore weird uniforms that made them look like a cross between a bullfighter and a pirate, with bolero vests and red sashes around their waists. But it was true: La Posta did have the best tacos in town.

  Syd was in a better mood as we sat down at our booth and dove into our chips and salsa. When our waiter came to take our order, she sized him up and immediately started flirting. He was college-aged, maybe a little older, and nervous.

  “My name is Justin. I’ll be your waiter.” He leaned much more toward the pirate than the bullfighter. I felt for him immediately.

  “Well, my name is Syd and I’ll be your customer.” She slung her hair over her shoulder and gazed up at him. As soon as Syd had him in her crosshairs, the poor guy’s nervousness multiplied exponentially.

  It was a pastime of Syd’s, this weird, shameless flirting. Some guys liked it—most guys, I guessed. But others, like poor Justin, seemed to understand right away that Syd was far out of their league and was, in the best-case scenario, simply flirting to flirt. In the worst-case scenario, she was being cruel. It was one of Syd’s blind spots. It never occurred to her that the receiver of her attentions might not actually want them.

  Justin took our drink order and hurried off.

  “Leave this poor guy alone,” I said.

  “What does that mean?” Syd snapped. “Fine,” she added before I could tell her what I meant. But when he returned with our sodas, she went right back to it, complimenting his embarrassing oversized red sash.

  “So, are you two sisters?” he bumbled nervously, spilling a little of my Sprite as he placed it on the table. I swiped the spill away with my napkin and smiled kindly. It was quite obvious Syd and I weren’t sisters.

  “Nope,” I offered, beating Syd to the punch. “We’re just super-close friends. We might as well be sisters.” I thought I might’ve staved off an assault, but when she looked at me and widened her eyes, I knew Justin was in for the full Syd.

  “Yeah, we’re just, like, super-close.” She put a hand on her heart. “This woman gave me a kidney.”

  “Whoa. Really?” He looked at me for help.

  “Yes,” Syd said. “When I was a baby. I was a very sick baby.”

  “Wow.” Justin had walked right into Syd’s trap. I’d tried to help him, but if the guy was this easy a target, there was nothing I could to do.

  “I owe her my life.” Syd reached across the table for my hand, which I pulled away.

  “Wait.” Justin looked at me again. “Weren’t you a baby too?”

  “She was a very generous baby,” Syd said.

  “She’s screwing with you.” I ended the poor guy’s misery. Syd scowled at me. I’d ruined her fun. “I’m sorry. She’s not a stable person.”

  Justin laughed. After that, he avoided looking at Syd, glancing over only once as he took her order before rushing off again.

  “Why do you do that?” I asked her. “He’s gonna spit in our food.”

  “That was just fun. He knew it was fun. You’re the one who ruined it.”

  “Whatever,” I said. I wasn’t up for a fight. “So what happened with Isaac?”

  “I dunno.” She reached for a chip.

  “Maybe he died,” I said.

  “Better have,” she answered halfheartedly. “Still. I’m going back to my high school boys.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m done with these stupid college guys. They think it’s like charity to touch my boobs. I need to sink my teeth into some good, old-fashioned high school boy.”

  “Yum,” I said, shoving a chip full of salsa into my mouth.

  “Sophomores,” she said in a perfect Cookie Monster voice, digging her hand into the bowl of chips and stuffing a small handful into her mouth. She laughed and then choked, spraying the table with half-eaten chips. People at the next table looked over.

  “Dude. You’re so gross.”

  She smirked and sat up straighter. “What about you?” she asked. “Who’s your Medium Hottie?”

  “Ugh.” I put a chip into my mouth to buy some time. “I dunno.”

  Of course I knew. And I knew she knew. But she’d basically forbidden the mention of Nick’s name. “He’s trash,” she’d declared the morning after prom. She’d stayed the night and was administering triage. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I stayed curled in a ball under the covers and she sat at my feet, trying to make me laugh and planning out her offensive. It was hard to judge what punishment he deserved for standing me up on prom night. It was an unusually heartless thing to have done. But she’d think of something. “Nick Asshole-son has fucked with the wrong best friend-hole-son.” When I laughed at that, she lit up, relieved. She stood and spanked me hard on the butt. “Come on. Your dad’s making pancakes and having a nervous breakdown. Get your ass out of bed.”

  She’d started small. She pranked Nick’s phone. The first time, it was funny, but I came to hate it very quickly. For some reason, he always answered, even though he had to know it was Syd—Syd whispering expletives, threatening him, calling him all manner of ridiculously offensive names: white boy ass slime, shitbrains dickface, dorky dorkalicious. When Syd got bored with calling him, she moved on to texting him images of dog poop, three a day, at mealtimes. If we were in the cafeteria and had a view of him, she’d watch him check his phone and receive his lunchtime serving. He never looked over. He never acknowledged us. He simply checked his phone and put it away and returned to his conversation with his small group of friends. Tomás would sometimes glare over at us, and Nick would ignore it. It was then I realized something Syd never seemed to: Nick was pranking her back, denying her the reaction she desired. When she called to harass him, he never hung up first. She had to do it. Syd’s pride didn’t allow her to see that she was the one being owned. She thought he was just stupid. An idiot, like the rest of the idiots she’d been forced into the midst of all her life, one of the first people she’d forget about as soon as she made it out of town.

  When eventually she seemed to be moving in the direction of physical harm, after she covered his entire locker with maxi-pads, I told her to stop. I just wanted to forget about the whole Event. And that was true, of course. I did want to forget. But I also couldn’t stand to think of Nick being publicly humiliated. Nick was super-sh
y. In French class he often seemed caught off guard and would blush when called on to speak, even if he’d had his hand up. In fact, aside from having done the meanest thing anyone had ever done to me, he’d always been a genuinely nice guy. That made everything about the Event so much worse, so much more baffling and painful. The graceful way he’d handled Syd’s vengeance only twisted up my already twisted feelings. Nick and I had been in French together for three years. I’d been pining for him for three years before the Event, carefully working on a friendship I hoped would turn into something more. Even after the Event, I imagined there might come a time in the future when Nick and I could return to talking, maybe even to being friends again.

  I couldn’t help it. I missed talking to him, joking around in French, saying hi in the halls. I liked Nick, just as much as I loved him, and just as much as I hated him. It was an impossible situation.

  Syd didn’t realize this, or else she didn’t care. She’d never liked someone the way I liked Nick. She got obsessed with her hatred. That he wouldn’t succumb to it drove her bonkers. When he walked up behind us later outside the cafeteria and surprised Syd by sticking one of the maxi-pads to her shoulder, she was baffled. Then she filled with rage. I don’t think I’d ever seen her so angry before. Nick, on the other hand, was utterly composed. He even seemed sympathetic. “Maxi-pads are kinda cliché,” he said, “but this was pretty funny.” His shoulders slumped beautifully. His brown curls sat with perfect obedience on top of his head. I thought of him walking all the way from his locker to the cafeteria holding a maxi-pad and had to suppress a groan of actual pain. He glanced to me before he walked ahead of us and into the cafeteria. I could’ve sworn there was a little something there—a little apology, a little sadness. Something. The knot inside me tightened. Syd yanked the giant maxi-pad off her shirt and attempted to throw it in the trash, but it stuck stubbornly to her fingertips. “God, I hate him,” I said. It was the worst lie I’d ever told.

  “Maybe I need a Medium Hottie.” I sipped my Sprite.

  “I recommend the Medium Hottie,” she said.

  “You literally don’t know who he is.”

  “Exactly,” she said. We both cracked up.

  “Whatever. I’ll meet someone. In college,” I said. “Or in jail.”

  Syd looked up at me, her face suddenly urgent, as if something wonderful had just occurred to her. Her blue eyes shone under her perfect eye makeup.

  “What?” I said.

  She blinked. She looked away. “Nothing,” she said finally. I couldn’t decide if she was still tipsy or if there was something she wasn’t telling me.

  “What?” I asked again.

  She inhaled. But she didn’t say anything. She dropped her head and started laughing.

  “You’re such a freak,” I said.

  She bolted upright. “But I’m your freak.” She reached over and laid her hand on mine. “Forevah?”

  “Keep your hands to yourself, mister.” I slapped her wrist.

  We scarfed our tacos. They were delicious. I checked the time on my phone and realized it was getting late.

  “You can check your phone if you want,” I said to Syd.

  “Oh no. A promise is a promise, Gran.”

  We paid the check and got up to leave. Syd sauntered through the dining room, looking like a celebrity, and I followed behind her, head down, feeling like a bum. When she stopped suddenly, I nearly walked into her back.

  She turned to face me. Her eyes were huge.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Corner table, corner table,” she said, thrusting her chin to the left. I followed it and nearly died.

  It was Nick Allison. He was sitting right there, looking perfect, eating a combo plate with his parents. It was uncanny, seeing him, because I’d just been thinking about him. But then again, any time I laid eyes on Nick it felt uncanny, because I’d pretty much always just been thinking about him. This time, however, felt actually weird. If Syd hadn’t been the one who’d pointed him out I might have thought I was hallucinating.

  “Oh my god, go,” I said. “Go!” I pushed her forward forcefully, toward the long, piñata-strewn hallway that would lead us to the door, to the outside, to my escape from humiliation. But she wouldn’t budge.

  “Oh, no.” She had fire in her eyes and it terrified me. “We’re doing this.” She turned sharply and started over to the table, grabbing me by my wrist and dragging me behind her.

  “Syd, stop,” I whispered. I felt like I was being dragged into a bad dream. “Please.” I tried to wriggle free, but she tightened her grip on my wrist until it hurt. “What are you doing?”

  “Just watch,” she said. “This’ll be good.”

  A few agonizing steps later and we were standing directly behind Nick. His hair was so close that I could see the auburn highlights winding through his curls. His mother and father looked up at us with curiosity. We must’ve looked like a couple of Nick’s friends, just stopping by to say hey. But when Nick turned and looked up to see Syd standing behind him, and me cowering behind her, his face went completely blank. He was stunned. It was terrible. For my part, I was sure I looked like I was being eaten from the inside out, my organs liquefying.

  Almost immediately, though, Nick seemed to understand what Syd was up to. His mouth went from a hard, straight line of terror to a small, grudging smile.

  “Hey, guys,” Nick said to Syd, not even daring to look at me.

  “Hey,” Syd said. “Nick-o.” She’d been caught off guard. He’d said hi first and she hadn’t expected that. She raised the ante and put a hand on his shoulder. He froze up but then absorbed the shock and relaxed.

  “I’m Syd,” Syd said, offering a handshake across the table to no one in particular. She surprised his parents with her weird friendliness and they looked at each other, deciding which of them should shake her hand. Nick’s mom went for it.

  “Hi,” she said, taking Syd’s hand. “I’m Maggie. I’m Nick’s mom. You go to school with Nick?” I was trying not to stare at her, but it was hard not to. Besides being beautiful and radiant and looking a strange lot like the boy I loved, Nick’s mom was young. Or maybe she wasn’t that young. Maybe it was that Nick’s dad was so old. He looked to be at least twenty years older. I guess you could say he was handsome, though, in an austere, professorial way. He had striking blue eyes and his wavy hair was graying at the temples.

  “Yes,” Syd said. “We’re friends.” As soon as she’d extracted her hand from his mother’s, she held it out to his father. “Sydney Miller,” she said when his father rose halfway and took her hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Sydney,” his dad said.

  “We’ve met before, Professor Allison,” Syd said, still shaking his hand vigorously. “I was in Dr. Freemont’s calculus class last year. You came to guest-lecture—on computable model theory. It was such a great lecture. You really blew my mind. I introduced myself after class. You probably don’t remember me.” She finally let go of his hand, rather suddenly, and he seemed to lose his balance before sitting back down and looking to his wife, stunned.

  “I’m sorry—no. That was a while ago. But yes, sure. I remember you. Sydney. Yes.” He nodded like a fool. Only Syd could turn a distinguished math professor into a bumbling idiot with one handshake.

  “So you guys just out to eat on a Sunday night, huh?”

  “Yep.” Nick jumped in to save his parents. He’d gained a bit of composure. Just as he’d done when she’d called all those times to cuss him out, he’d go along with this lunatic visit she was forcing upon his table in order to win the upper hand. He shot me a look. “Hey,” he said.

  It was the first time he’d spoken words to me in eight months. It was only one word, but it was enough to stun me, deer-in-headlights style. I stared at him. “Hi,” I said finally. I focused all my attention on staying upright. I couldn’t believe what was happening. It truly did feel like a bad dream, one where I was paralyzed while some terrible beast approached. I was able to
observe everything, but unable to run or move or even make words come out of my mouth.

  “That looks so good.” Syd pointed at Nick’s mom’s half-eaten chile relleno. “Doesn’t it?” She turned to me. She was a time bomb. I didn’t know what she was going to say or do next. All I wanted to do was leave, to escape. I twisted my wrist out of her grip and took a big step back.

  “It’s very good,” Nick’s mom said politely. “So you girls go to Cruces?” She powered forward, trying to regain a sense of normalcy. She looked to me as if to ask that I take over here.

  “We do,” Syd shot back. “I take half my classes at the university. But yeah, we’re friends with Nick. And Mir has French with him.” She yanked me forward so I was standing next to her. “Right? Mir?”

  “Yes.” I couldn’t sound normal or act normal or breathe normally. Nick’s mom gave me a sympathetic look, as if maybe I was slow. Why else would I hang around with a lunatic like the one standing beside me?

  “Super meeting you two,” Syd said. “Nick’s always talking about you guys.”

  The weirdness level had reached a peak. We’d bottomed out on the mesa of this interaction. Because Syd was having trouble using her inside voice, people at other tables were beginning to shoot us looks.

  Nick cleared his throat. He lifted his head and placed his fork beside his plate and turned in his seat to look us both right in our faces, first Syd’s, then mine. “Cool seeing you guys.” He was calm and friendly. He was doing it again, beating Syd at her own game, trouncing her. Given that I hated her guts for dragging me into this situation, I sided with him on this one. “See you tomorrow, Miranda.”

  “Yeah.” I was looking him in the eyes for the first time in eight months. It felt so good, being friendly with Nick, even for just a moment, even if it was a sham. It was as if we’d stepped back in time to a year ago. “Hey,” I tossed in. “Remember, we have that quiz tomorrow. Future perfect.”

  “Oh yeah,” Nick said. “Future perfect.” He turned to his parents and shrugged. “A quiz on a Monday.”

  Syd looked at me and furrowed her brow as if to ask what the hell I was doing.