24 The Search
THE SEARCH
Jackson
I t’s been three weeks since I arrived in Puerto Rico, 108 days without Mia, and I’m no closer to finding her dad. I’ve just finished making the rounds with Mia’s extended family after visiting each one in person. People tend to remember more when you’re face to face. Also, it allowed for more time so if anything came to mind, they could tell me then and there. If I only made phone calls, the chances of them getting in touch after are less likely. It doesn’t mean I won’t follow up with everyone, though. Not only to see if anything came back to them but also to thank them for their hospitality.
They were all generous, showering me with meals and excited to spend time with someone who had ties to the family they lost. I tried not to explain why I was looking for Mia’s dad but gave them enough to stress the importance of my search. I came up mostly empty-handed, except for finding out where her parents met.
Interestingly, Mia’s mom was on vacation in the US, and during a stop in Las Vegas, she met Roland, who lived there. According to Sofia’s account of the story, it was love at first sight. I asked why they didn’t stay in Vegas, and from what they’d heard, she didn’t want to raise her daughter there, so they somehow ended up in San Diego. They knew about his gambling habits from Sofia, who would call often and confide in her sister about their problems.
Sofia knew he was playing too much before he left and was always worried his habits would get them in trouble at some point. She assumed he stuck around San Diego, but she never knew for sure. They gave me the most recent picture they had of him, so I have something tangible to go on. I see similarities between him and Mia, but she takes after her mom more so.
It was a success for the picture alone, but the information about Vegas might also be helpful. My next stop on the Roland Marcos tour is his own family. There aren’t many—an uncle and a few cousins—but maybe they’ve heard from him recently. It’ll take me a while, even with his few relatives, since they’re so spread out. Luckily, I have plenty of time now with Cici running things back home. Speaking of, I decide to call and check in and give her an update.
“Hi, Jackson. Are you still in Puerto Rico?” Cici answers.
“I’m at the airport, ready to fly out. I made it through everyone here, and now I’m headed to Arkansas to talk to Roland’s uncle.”
“Did you learn anything?” she asks eagerly.
I fill her in and ask how things are going there.
“Everything’s good. Rebecca and I are holding down the fort. It took a while to get back in the swing of things, but it all came back to me eventually.” She stepped right in and handled it like a champ. She might not like the family business, but she’s good at it.
“It seems like you never left with how good you’re doing. Have you heard from Mom and Dad yet?”
She laughs. “No, but they’ve been checking in with Rebecca. They’re too stubborn to talk to me, you know that.”
“You know you’re their daughter, right, smart one? As a neutral observer, you all play a part in this, but it only takes one of you to admit it first. That’s the problem with the Soloman stubbornness.”
“Okay, Obi-Wan Kenobi, are we done here?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Later, Obi-Wan.”
I’m laughing as I hang up. Thank God. I wondered if that sound would ever leave my mouth again.
Mia
My eyelids are like lead weights this morning. I need to limit my reading at night. It’s lasting longer and longer until my eyes start closing on their own. After weeks of going to bed with Jackson on my mind, always resulting in tears, I took up reading. A good distraction became a bad habit. I’m hoping to counter it by adding a good habit to the mix.
I don my sneakers and head out the door, trying to decide which way to go on my run today. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would ever be one of those crazy people who ran by choice and weren’t being chased by an axe murderer, but here I am. The counselor suggested it—go figure, at least something she said actually helped.
When my mom saw me spiraling, she asked our handler to find a counselor. I guess it’s common for some to have a more difficult time with the transition into the program. I’m one of them. But other than my new running ritual, I don’t think I’ve gotten anything from therapy. Whoever thinks bringing up your problems every week is the answer to solving them is more messed up than me. Makes no sense, but if it satisfies my mom and makes her feel better, then so be it. Hence, the reading habit.
Once I started to talk about everything wrong in my life, the floodgates opened. The thing is that my issue isn’t with my past or some trauma I need to work through—it’s happening right now , and nobody can fucking fix it. How am I supposed to deal with being stuck in a life that isn’t mine, using a made-up name, with people who have no idea who I really am and never will?
The counselor who specializes in cases like this says I should allow myself to make friends and live here as if we decided to move and start over. That I’m not diminishing my old life but accepting the possibility of two, and if I ever decide to go back, my life will be that much richer from the added friends and experiences. Seriously? I may have puked in my mouth a little. Did I mention that she works for the FBI? What a load of crap. She gets paid to say that shit.
How about we take you away from the love of your life and see how it goes. See how long it takes until you start picturing him moving on and wondering how long it took. See how it feels to lie in bed at night and imagine he’s on a date, what she might look like, if he thinks of you when he leans in to kiss her.
I stop and bend over with my hands on my knees, catching my breath. I may have gotten carried away during that rant. I’ve been better recently, but I had a session yesterday. And they say counseling helps. Whatever.
“Mary?” I hear my name being called.
I straighten up to see Jeff, one of my coworkers from the coffee shop, coming to a stop in front of me. “Oh, hi, Jeff.”
“I wasn’t sure if it was you bent over like that. Are you okay?” I can’t blame him for being concerned since I’m acting like I just finished a marathon.
“Yeah, just overdid it for a minute there. I probably should’ve had some more coffee. I’m too tired for this.”
“Don’t worry, I have days like that too. I haven’t seen you on this trail before. Have I just missed you, or is this a rare thing?”
I laugh. “It probably looks like that, but I’ve been consistent for a few weeks. I run in different directions every day so I don’t get bored. I take it this is your regular route?”
“It is. I like knowing how much farther I have. It keeps me going.”
“That’s not a bad way to look at it. On the other hand, if you don’t know where you are, you’re forced to keep going until you make it back.”
This time, he laughs. “Very true. We’re both just trying to make it in our own way.”
“As is life.” Maybe I should be the counselor.
“Since you said you needed more coffee, would you want to grab one with me and continue this profound conversation?” He smiles in jest. “I feel like this is the most we’ve talked, and we’ve worked together for months now.”
“I know, crazy. I would, but I have a big paper due and put it off until the last minute. Sorry.”
“No worries. Procrastination is my middle name. Maybe another time. I’ll see you at work.”
“Bye, Jeff.”
We jog off in opposite directions, and my heart is already going at a speed far beyond what my run is causing. I can’t believe he asked me out. Not that it was for a date, for crying out loud. Coffee isn’t a date, right? I didn’t even say yes, yet I feel like I just cheated on Jackson. Ugh, I’m not even with Jackson anymore. Well, he’s not with me, at least. My heart hasn’t decided to let him go yet, but that doesn’t mean I should be getting so worked up over this. If only I could stop thinking about him constantly, but it’s become habit after 108 days of doing it.
I need to focus on the tasks at hand: get home, shower, and make up a topic for this fake paper I’ll not be working on in case it comes up. After that, I should make a list of excuses to have in my back pocket if this happens again. It’s hard enough being around people at work who think I’m someone I’m not; I can’t imagine a relationship with someone who doesn’t even know my name.
Jackson
Well, fuck. Both families are now checked off my list at 125 days without Mia, and I’m still at a loss. I’m not sure what kind of man can win the heart of a woman like Sofia after alienating his entire family by being a prick. No one has heard from him in years, and the last they knew, he’d left to become a poker pro in Vegas. It’s safe to say that all signs point to Las Vegas, where I’m currently headed, waiting to board a flight from Kentucky. To pass the time, I call Eli to check in and hopefully pick his brain.
“Jackson, what’s up, man?” he answers.
“Hey, Eli. Just sitting in another airport, getting ready to fly to Sin City.”
“No kidding. What did you find out?”
“Jack shit, but so far, Vegas has been brought up by everyone. Now that I’ve eliminated the possibility of family knowing where he is, the only thing left to do is play the poker circuit and look for him directly. I figure I’ll ask around and flash his picture.”
“Sounds like a plan. Where are you going to start?”
“That’s why I called. Since you’re in the know, I was hoping you could poke around and see if you could get me into some lesser-known games outside the mainstream. I’ll visit the poker rooms but will probably have better luck in the smaller circuit, especially given his history of being on the run.” What that translates to is that I have no fucking clue what I’m doing and grasping at straws.
“I’d be surprised if he was playing in Vegas, where more people are watching. Not to discourage you, I get you need to start somewhere. And who knows, maybe the guy has friends who have an idea where he might be.”
“Think you can do some digging for me?” I ask.
“I’ll see what I can find. Quite a few guys go there to play, so I’ll ask if they can get you on the list for a few tournaments. Also, put some feelers out while you’re in the card rooms and give hints that you’re interested in private games. You might be surprised what doors open.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks for the tip. I had the same thought about him not being in Vegas, but you’re right, I need to start somewhere. Change of subject—how’s Cici? Have you seen her lately?”
“I see her all the time. She’s become a permanent fixture at Sebastian’s, and I live in the same building. She seems good, excited about the wedding—it’s all they talk about these days. I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary.”
“The last we talked, my parents still hadn’t spoken to her and were only talking to the assistant. She doesn’t seem down at all?”
“I don’t think it’s possible with the wedding coming up, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll pay closer attention and ask about work when I see her next.”
“I’d appreciate that. I just want to make sure she’s not putting on a front for me and then find out later she was miserable the whole time. I don’t want anyone else to suffer because of my shit.”
“I get it. I’ll let you know if I find anything you should be concerned about. Otherwise, stop worrying and focus on what needs to be done. We’re all here for you, man, and the sooner you find him, the better.”
“Thanks, Eli. Text me what you find out and tell everyone I said hi.”
“Sounds good. See ya.”
“Bye.”
I’m more at ease than I’ve been in a while after our conversation. For one, I know he’s looking after my sister, and whatever’s going on between them, I can tell he genuinely cares about her. Whether that results in a relationship or being good friends, I’m on board. I’m also grateful to have his help with my search in Vegas. I’m at a loss with this whole thing, and having someone on my side is refreshing.
I’ve made some headway over the last couple of months in Sin City. The circle of players I’ve worked my way into have connections far beyond. I’ve also met some friends I might share the truth with who could become additional allies. I’m inserting myself into higher-stakes games to see if any of those guys have heard of him. If I strike out there, I may move to another market.
Now that the FBI has arrested the puppeteer of the operation, time is of the essence. That means they intend to use Mia’s testimony, and if I don’t find Roland in time to replace her before she’s named as a key witness, then this will all have been for nothing.
But before I do anything else, I need to make it through Sebastian’s bachelor party tonight.
“God, it’s good to see you guys. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed this. I can’t believe you all flew in for the weekend.” Sebastian, Braden, Eli, and I are sitting at a VIP table at the club in our hotel after dinner with the ladies. Lily, Cici, and two other women who came are on the dance floor. We’re seated where we can watch them while they let loose and have fun. Speaking of, I’m doing a bit of that myself.
“It was Lily and Cici’s idea. They insisted that a bachelor party isn’t a bachelor party if it’s not in Vegas. I told them I’d only do it if we combined it with the bachelorettes, so here we are. It’s safe to say that your being here had a lot to do with it.” Sebastian looks at me momentarily, but his focus remains on Lily.
“I’m just happy you’re here.” A little too happy with the way my head is spinning and words slurring. But fuck it, I don’t remember the last time I allowed myself to relax. So I don’t think twice as I knock back the rest of my drink.
“You’ve been lonely, huh? You know we’re only a quick flight away. You should come home every now and then,” Braden says.
“I can’t. I’ve got important stuff happening here. Top secret… I’m an agent of love, trying to save my woman.”
“Okay, buddy, I think it might be time to call it a night,” Eli says while laughing.
“No way, the night’sss young. I’ll just visit the lil boys’ room an’be right back.” That didn’t sound right, even to me. I stand up and sway on my feet, grabbing the back of the couch for support.
“Whoa there, big guy.” Eli stands up at the same time and grabs my shoulder. “Look, why don’t I help you to your room, and you can use the bathroom there.”
“S’prolly a good idea. Shit, I feel like I’s roofied.”
“You roofied yourself, man,” Braden chimes in.
“All right, let’s go, buddy.” Eli leads me out and as we pass the dance floor I hear our names being called.
“Hey, where are you guys going?” We pause as Cici catches up.
“Jackson had a bit too much tonight, so I’m helping him to his room,” Eli answers.
“S’all good. I can make it.” I try to play it cool.
“Geez, Jackson, drink much? I can take him up so you can stay with the guys.” Cici comes over and takes my other arm as the room spins.
“I’m not leaving you alone to wrangle a 180-pound man of steel to his room. What if he passes out on the way?” Eli asks.
“Then I’ll get security to help. It’s fine, I’ve got him.”
“Hey, guyz, I’m right heeere.” I hiccup. Great.
“Cici quit being stubborn. You can go with me or stay and dance—the choice is yours,” Eli states firmly and then starts walking again, pulling me along. I’m too busy trying to stay upright to interject.
“Argh. You’re infuriating.” Cici stomps beside me.
“Surrry, sis. Didn’t mean t’ruin yer night. I haven’t drunk in a while.” I start laughing. “Get it? Drunk in a while, and I’m drunk.”
“How are you such a lightweight with all this muscle?” Cici asks.
“He had a lot at dinner and then pounded a couple more here. I think it’s been a while since he’s let his guard down,” Eli explains.
“Can’t let my guard down. Too important.”
“Jackson, I’m sorry. This must suck for you,” Cici says.
Thank God we made it to my room without incident, and somehow, they managed to get me inside and into bed. At least, that’s what I’m assuming, because I don’t remember anything past leaving the club, and this is where I woke up.
Fucking hell, my head hurts. What was I thinking? First night back with my friends and I took it to a whole new level. That might be one for the record books. It was a welcomed diversion to turn off my mind. I don’t remember the last time I wasn’t consumed with thoughts of Mia, her dad, poker, or the fucking FBI. I’m going crazy with this shit.
Dammit, I miss her so much, it hurts. I’ve memorized every picture of us on my phone down to the order of the images. I’m ready to have her back. I want to hold her, tell her how special she is, and how much I love her. It’s been too long, 195 days since I’ve had her in my arms. I don’t know how much longer I can take.
Arguing with my sister at breakfast this morning is the last thing I want to be doing after not seeing her for so long, but I knew it was coming, which was why I waited until the end of her visit.
“I’m sorry, Cici. I have a lead that could finally pay off. If I don’t make this game next weekend, I might as well stop trying.” Letting my friends down is not the intention, but I can’t compromise the breakthrough I’ve been trying to get for months.
“I can’t believe you’re not coming to the wedding. What’s wrong with you? You’re like Lily’s brother.”
“Not true, considering I’ve made out with her, not to mention I’m the guy who third-personed her first time with Sebastian. They’ll survive if I’m not at their wedding.”
“Okay, you make a good argument. I’m just worried about you. Are you okay?” Cici won’t let up after last night. I overdid it, but it’s not an everyday occurrence; it’s rare.
“Listen, I’m not going to lie and tell you I’m great just to make you feel better. I’m frustrated that the solution to my problems seems impossible to find, which is why this game is so important. I’d also rather not be at a wedding where two people are pledging their love when I’ve been miserable being separated from the woman I love . Call me selfish, but I can’t do it.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry. You’ll get her back, Jackson.”
“I know I will. It’s just taking longer than expected. How are you doing at the office? I know I told you only a couple months, but we’re going on four now. Are you still okay with sticking around?”
“I already told you I’ll stay as long as you need. It’s been less stressful with the deals in Bozeman finished, so I’m good. And even though Rebecca was great, nothing compares to having Cindy back—she makes this job a breeze. Don’t worry about me. You have enough on your plate.”
“I want you to know that I appreciate you putting your life on hold. I’m sorry to have asked that of you.” I catch the server’s eye for the check.
“That’s what family is for. You’d do the same for me, right?”
“In a heartbeat.”
After paying, we stand to hug and say our goodbyes.
“Have fun at the wedding next weekend, but not too much—don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. I already sent a card, but give Lily a hug and tell them congrats for me.”
“I will. Keep me posted on things, and good luck in LA.”
“Bye, Cici.” I walk away with a load off my chest. I knew telling her I was skipping the wedding would piss her off, but I seriously can’t do it. It’s probably a smart decision if last night is any indication. The game I’m going to isn’t a bullshit story either.
The guys I’ve been talking to got me into this tournament. It’s a private high-stakes game with some seedier players and might be the crowd that leads me in the right direction. The trick will be navigating a conversation without raising any red flags, causing suspicion from the wrong people.
Mia
I woke up to a panic attack this morning. The fall semester is kicking my ass, and after staying up late to finish a project, I ended up not thinking of Jackson before bed last night for the first time since we’ve been apart. Did we reach our expiration date?
I often wonder if he’s moved on after so long. I’ve got to be kidding myself to hold out hope that he hasn’t. He was no stranger to the ladies before I came along, so I don’t know what makes me think he would be celibate other than wishful thinking. And that’s not fair of me. He deserves happiness—we both do. I just wish it could have been together.
Between school, my newfound passion for running, and my job at the coffee shop, I’m spending less time obsessing over the past. It’s refreshing to feel somewhat normal again, even if it did take over six months for it to happen, but I still have my moments.
Not only am I exhausted from lack of sleep, but Mondays suck in general. It’s my longest day of classes, which means sitting in front of the computer for hours before the afternoon shift at work. I might have been a little ambitious with this semester’s class load, trying to squeeze in as many credits as possible while the government pays for it. And since the government is paying, I chose one of the top online degree programs in the country, which means it’s no joke.
I could have chosen to attend a local university, but don’t want to lie to even more people and introduce myself as someone I’m not. Plus, there’s always a slim chance someone from San Diego ends up at the same one, and then we’d be forced to start over. No, thank you. Online school is great.
One of the benefits of working at a coffee shop is being able to make an energy drink at the start of my shift—highlight of my day right here.
“Those are terrible for you, you know,” Jeff says as he’s clocking out.
“Says the guy who drinks triple-shot espressos on the daily.”
Jeff and I have been talking more at work. It’s getting more personal with questions about family, childhood stuff, and talk of the future. It scares me but also feels good at the same time. I haven’t had someone other than my mom to talk to in forever.
At first, I was constantly previewing my answers for anything I wasn’t supposed to say, but it’s become easier. At night, though, I always feel guilty for enjoying our conversations. I’m starting to wonder if that will ever go away with not receiving closure with Jackson.
“Touché. Did you get that paper done over the weekend?”
“Yeah, barely. I submitted it at the final hour last night.” This time, when I told him I was busy with homework over the weekend, I wasn’t making it up.
“Damn, if your sophomore year is that difficult, I can’t imagine how much worse it’ll get. The business program I’m in isn’t that hard, and my junior year is still kicking my butt.”
“The minor in criminal justice might have been a bit much, but if I can use my accounting degree at a major law firm, it could mean good money down the road. It’ll be worth it in the end.” I hope so, anyway.
“Since you got your paper done, how about you relax for once and come to a Halloween party with me on Thursday night? Not a date, just something for you to let loose at. Come on—I’m offering a zero-pressure option this time. What do you say?”
Asking me out has become a regular thing these days, but he knows I’ll say no, so now it’s more of a running joke. It usually goes something like this: “I know you have to clean your room tonight, but I’d love to take you to dinner if you want to put it off?” Or “I’m sure you’re already going grocery shopping, but would you want to grab a bite to eat beforehand so you’re not hungry as you walk down the aisles?” It’s cute, and recently, I can’t tell if he’s really asking me out or keeping the joke going—which doesn’t matter, I suppose, since I don’t plan on saying yes.
This party, though, has me considering. “I don’t remember the last time I was at a party,” I muse.
“Exactly, which is why you should go. It’s a costume party, so you can pretend to be someone else for the night. That’s always fun, right?”
Ha. If he only knew I do that every day. “How big is the party?”
“I’m scared to answer that without knowing what you’re hoping for. This is the first time you haven’t come back with a no right away, and I don’t want to risk it.”
I laugh. Jeff’s gotten good at pulling those sounds from me. “You said it wouldn’t be a date, so I figured if it were a big party, that would make it seem less date-ish.” I don’t want to lead him on by going, and if there were only three couples or something, that would be awkward.
He looks relieved. “I wasn’t sure if you were crowd averse, but it’s a big party. It’s at one of the frat houses, and they practically invite the entire student body. I even have a buddy staying sober to drive, so we would have a chaperone. See? Not a date.” I roll my eyes as he leans his hip on the counter with his arms crossed, smiling while he waits for my answer.
“Okay, fine, I’ll go. Just as friends,” I point out once more.
He grins. “Friends. Scout’s honor.” He does the salute, and I blanche.
“No, wait. Never mind, I—”
“Mary, what did I do?” Jeff asks in a panic.
“Nothing. No, I just… I’m sorry. I’m not ready.” I look up to the ceiling and breathe deeply.
“Okay. Mary, I like you, I think that’s obvious. But it seems like you’re trying to get over someone and if you need me to back off, I will.”
“Please don’t. I like what we have going. It’s just… I can’t promise that I’ll ever be able to say yes. That doesn’t mean I want you to stop what you’re doing, though.”
“Then we’ll pretend today didn’t happen, and I’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe you should tell me what I did, though, so I don’t do it again?”
My cheeks go red. “The Scout’s honor thing,” I say, turning away and busying myself by wiping a counter. Just saying it sounds ridiculous, but I swear it was a sign.
“Good to know. Won’t happen again.” He goes to raise his hand to do it but stops abruptly. “Aaand… I’m going now.”
Once he’s gone, I sigh in frustration. I’m so confused. When Jeff said I was trying to get over someone, it hit me—that’s not what I’ve been doing at all. I’ve been trying to hang on to someone. I don’t want to let Jackson go, but maybe that’s the problem. When he made that motion with his hand, all I could see was Jackson, and it felt like a sign, like the universe was telling me to remember.
But you know what? Fuck the universe, because for the last 230 days, it’s done a pretty shitty job of things.