Chapter 9 Above #2
That’s why Barry comes with me. Because I am afraid that one day, on my own, I wouldn’t turn back. I would follow the hum and let myself become unmoored, unfound. But I would never do that to Barry. He keeps me tethered, because I have to bring him home.
When I turn onto my street, my heart sinks. Len’s car is in the driveway. I pull in next to him, putting on my most innocent expression. He glowers at me from the porch.
“Where have you been?” he says.
“Early--morning hike,” I say.
“Right.” He doesn’t believe me for a second. He sighs, closes his eyes briefly. “You have to stop doing this.”
I open the door to let Barry out. He bounds over and jams his head against Len’s stomach, demanding attention. Len is very practiced at providing it without interrupting the effort of glaring at me. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Bullshit.”
I walk past Len, unlock the door. “I know how to take care of myself.”
“That doesn’t mean you do it,” Len counters. He follows me inside as I strip off my hiking gear. “Is this about Meghan Vale?”
“No,” I say. He makes a skeptical sound. “Maybe.” It’s rarely about one specific person. When there’s someone to look for, there’s something to do. It’s the times in between that trouble me. “Did you find anything? About Meghan, I mean.”
“I know what you mean. And no, not really,” Len says.
He half sits on the back of the couch, arms crossed.
“Everything looks like a typical runaway. She packed a bag. She’d told people she wanted to leave.
She stole a couple hundred bucks her dad had stashed away, and she left in the middle of the night.
No sign of struggle, no sign that she had trouble with anyone other than her dad.
We looked at him, but he only had half an hour unaccounted for between talking to a neighbor and leaving for his night shift.
We followed up and put out the word, but she’s turned eighteen since then, so even if we did find her, we couldn’t make her go home. ”
“Meaning no one’s looking for her.”
“We aren’t,” Len concedes.
I bite back the thing I want to say, which isn’t fair or kind. “If you were, what would you do?”
“You mean, how would we investigate?” Len asks.
I nod. He scratches his jaw, considering.
“Given that it looks like she took off under her own steam, I’d start with organizations that help people in her position.
Aid groups, shelters. We’d check bus stations, that kind of thing.
Ask around about places she might have mentioned. ”
“And if she didn’t leave on her own?”
“Audrey.”
“She was out in those woods,” I say. “If you searched them—-”
“I’m not going to get a warrant to search based on, what, some beads that you don’t even know for sure were hers?” Len says.
“She took a photo.”
“Weeks before she left,” Len points out.
“It means she was on Terry Butler’s land. Have you talked to him?” I press.
“No. And neither should you,” he says warningly. He rubs the back of his head. “I know you want to find this girl, Audrey. But it’s not going to happen. There just isn’t a trail. And . . .” He stops himself.
“And what?”
“And she isn’t Janie,” he finishes reluctantly.
I huff a breath and stalk past him. Barry follows, nails clicking. Len sighs in my wake. “Audrey.”
I ignore him, busying myself with getting out Barry’s breakfast. My anger is the crack of a bent stick breaking, deep in my chest. I count breaths waiting for it to fade.
“I know you don’t like it when I talk about her,” Len says. “I didn’t know her, fine, whatever. But I know what she did to you, and what she’s still doing to you.”
“She’s not doing anything to me. I haven’t seen her in over a decade, how could she?” I ask.
“She broke your heart,” Len says. He’s right, of course, and he knows better than anyone.
By the end of the school year after that disastrous homecoming, I’d stopped going to school.
Stopped eating or going out. I slept most of the day.
My parents decided that what I needed was fresh air and moral guidance, so they sent me to a two--month camp for “struggling youth,” a term that was so ill--defined it encompassed every kind of trouble a teen could get into.
Drugs, bad grades, depression, the wrong boyfriend.
The general ethos was that any ill could be cured by learning to build survival shelters and identify edible plants.
In Len’s case, his parents were starting to suspect he might be gay, and thought that exposure to manly skills like building a fire might somehow turn him heterosexual. Strangely, it didn’t work.
Over the course of two months, I discovered that I loved the outdoors as much as he hated it and that friendship did not mean making yourself small enough to fit into the limited space someone else permitted you.
By the end of the next year, Len was living at our house after his parents threw him out.
We lived together in college, and I was his “best man” at his wedding.
We’ve always been there to save each other, Len and I.
Except he doesn’t need it anymore.
“I want you to come over tonight,” Len says, with more force this time. I don’t tell him that saving each other only works if it’s mutual. That I can’t be a drain on him; if I have nothing to give, I can’t take anything in return.
“I can’t,” I say.
“Why? Are you planning to go out again?” Len asks.
I put a hand on my hip. “No, actually, I have a date,” I lie on impulse.
His eyebrows spring up. “With who?” he demands.
“Dev Khanna,” I say, digging my hole deeper with impressive rapidity.
“Hot social studies teacher Dev Khanna?” Len’s tone is begrudgingly approving.
“He asked me out on Friday.” A pulse of panic is starting up in my chest. I’m already regretting the lie, but I can’t back out now.
“And you said yes.” He’s always been able to see through my bullshit.
“Why not? He’s cute.”
“And stable and nice, so. Just wondering how quickly you’re going to drive him off,” Len says.
“Hey,” I say warningly.
“You can’t deny that you have a track record. You make self--sabotage an art form.”
“I’m turning over a new leaf.”
“Well. Good for you, then,” he says, still skeptical. “You’ll have to tell me how it goes.”
“Right. I will,” I agree, kicking myself silently. Now I’m going to have to report back.
“And, Audrey, let the Meghan Vale thing go. I know you’re worried about her, but there’s nothing you can do. It’s not your job, and it’s not your place,” Len says.
“It’s your job, though,” I shoot back. “Isn’t it?”
He looks away, shaking his head in frustration. “Fine. Tell you what. Go on this date with Dev, and I’ll take a look at the file. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see if we overlooked anything. And you keep out of it. Deal?”
“Fine. It’s a deal,” I snap.
“Great,” he says.
“Good.” We glare at each other.
And then he sighs. Kisses me on the top of the head. “Barry, keep her out of trouble,” he says, and then he’s gone.
When the door closes behind him, I pick up my phone. I debate for a moment. I could tell him that Dev had to cancel. But he’d know I was lying, and we did make a deal. Instead, I pull up Dev’s number and send him a text.
Still want to go out? I’m free tonight.
Would love to. Just to clarify, by “go out . . .”
I bite my lip. Look at Barry. “What do you think?”
He wags his tail and whuffs.
Let’s call it a date. See how that hits us.
Fantastic.
There. Normal life. I can do normal life.
There is a hum in the air, so soft I might be imagining it. I have hours before I need to get ready.
I pull up the visiting hours information for the nearest hospital.