26 #3
I drive to a gas station and fill up the rental car. Then, I think better of it. I get out and walk around the car, looking under it with my phone light. All I see is the bare undercarriage, nothing out of the ordinary, no GPS tag. Just in case.
I finish up, finally able to breathe a little sigh of relief, and head to a nearby hotel. I pull up the search results for the Yvonnes in Brackenridge, Tennessee, and there are fifty-two of them.
And guess who’s calling every single one?
The bad part about this plan is that a few of these Yvonnes are members of the church who actually know King, and they told me they’ve been keeping him in their prayers. I keep going down the line, sitting on the hotel bed, until I reach Yvonne Gaspinson.
"Hello?" a woman’s voice answers.
I feel terrified; I’m half-expecting this to be some woman King is involved with that nobody else knows about. "Hello, I... sorry, my name is Erica and—"
"Erica?" she interrupts. Her voice sounds shaky. "Are you King’s friend?"
"Um, yes, King..." Before I can even say his last name, she speaks up again.
"Yes, my little Kingston. Is he all right? I've been trying to reach him and I can't. I know he’s fond of you, but I didn't have a number for you and... I can't do much for myself."
I realize then that this is a much older woman. "Are you... his mother?" I ask, taking a shot in the dark, wondering if I have the wrong information.
"I guess you can say that. Are you here? I can give you my address so you can come over."
"I'm so sorry, ma'am, I'm actually in... New York. I'm looking for King," I tell the white lie.
"Oh," she says tiredly. "Oh, my poor baby.
He gets down sometimes, but he's never gone a day without texting me.
Ever since my son passed away, King has been there...
always there. Always reliable. I know that no matter what's going on, he would never let me worry.
This ain't like him. And I'm so worried. "
Her small, shaky voice makes me feel like shit for even calling her. "Ma'am, I want to tell you right now that I have seen King," I say. She goes quiet. "He's actually here in New York."
"New York?"
"Yes, but I can't find him. I lost him again. But he's alive and okay." That’s the best I can give her without telling her he’s losing his mind.
"Well, tell him to come home. Whatever is going on, we can figure it out."
I honestly want to cry for her. "I'm trying, but he slipped away from me again. Is there anywhere you knew of already that you think he would be?"
"The only place I know he would want to go to was church. And no, he has a troubled past, but I don't know much about that, honey."
I nod to the empty room. "Okay, don't worry. I'll do my best to bring him home."
"He's a good boy. No matter what is going on... I know, in the name of Jesus, he is a good boy. And I know that Jesus Christ is going to bring him home."
I don't know about that, considering I’m the one out here pounding the pavement for him. It’s not like Jesus stopped him from going off the deep end, but to make her feel better, I give her some encouragement. "I believe that too. I'll keep you posted. Save your number and save mine."
"Oh, I can't see well. King was usually the one who did that stuff for me."
"Do you have anybody else who can look out for you?"
"No. I did—I had Miss Barbara, but she passed away."
"Listen, is it okay if I give your address to some of the members in King's church that he trusts? Like Sister Paula? She's one of the organizers."
"I don't really like people showing up if I don't know who they are."
"Yes, ma'am, I understand. But King would want to know that you're taken care of. Are you able-bodied?"
"Barely. I've got a wheelchair most days. I do my best to wash myself but... I can't do that much."
My heart hurts for her. "Ma'am, please allow me to give one person your address. An older woman, Sister Paula. King trusts her. Please."
"Okay," she says.
"Thank you. I'll keep you posted on King. Call me if you have any misgivings or concerns. If you don't get me, I'll call you right back."
"I can tell why he likes you so much," she says, driving an arrow straight through my heart.
"Did he say that?"
She gives a cute little chuckle. "He won't shut up about you.
I swear, you'd think he was talking about his wife the way he talks about you.
I told him, 'Well, why don't you bring her over here?
' But he was against it. He's super protective of me.
But he was opening up to the idea. Before... before he took off."
This makes me feel like I’m dying inside. "Well, I... I love King very much. And he saved my life. He gave me something to look forward to, and I want to return the favor."
"Hehe," she chuckles.
"What's so funny?" I chuckle back.
"He said the same thing about you."
I take a deep breath, wish her well, and hang up, trying to stave off the tears. This woman that he talks to all the time... he was talking to her about me?
He said those things?
It’s really hard to believe the man I met in New York is the same King I met back in Brackenridge, and for whatever reason, this makes me feel reinvigorated to find him.