Chapter 16
Tucker
How could a person simply disappear?
I banged on my keyboard for the hundredth time that afternoon.
I couldn’t find her.
Gram stepped inside my room. “You okay?”
I pushed the laptop farther back on my desk. “She’s nowhere. The hospital won’t talk to me, not that they’d know anything. There’s nobody with her name looking for a new apartment or a job anywhere on the internet. I don’t know what else to do.”
“It’s hard, baby. I know.” She came up behind me. “But I brought something that might cheer you up.” She held a plastic suit bag out so I could see it, then unzipped it down the middle.
Inside was a black rented tux.
I pushed my chair away from her. “I’m not going.”
Her hopeful expression fell. “To prom? You were so excited about it!”
“When I was taking Ava!”
Gram sat on the bed, the tux on her lap. “That was always a long shot. You didn’t know for sure she could get away that early in the evening.”
“But at least I had hope. Now, there’s nothing.”
“Won’t your friends miss you?”
“They won’t miss my bad attitude.” A pain struck my head, and I pressed my palms into both temples. Sometimes pressure helped.
“Another headache?”
“Just stress. This is stressful!”
“I know. I know.” She stood. “It’s a hard time. I thought prom might be a good distraction. I’ll leave this in your closet in case you change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
Of course, the minute Bill and Carlos caught wind of my refusal to go to prom, they went all out to convince me to change my mind. Carlos insisted I not leave him as the third wheel with Bill and Sarah, who were bound to get tossed from the dance for getting too friendly.
I’d abandoned them more than I should have for Ava, so eventually I gave in. We agreed that Bill and Sarah would drive Bill’s car, and Carlos and I would go in Gram’s. That way, if the whole thing sucked, the bored parties could leave.
Gram made everyone come to our house for pictures.
“Smile, Tucker!” she said, snapping shots with an actual camera rather than a phone.
Bill and Carlos acted like their usual moron selves, striking dumb poses and making Sarah laugh. Carlos played the role of my date, kicking up his foot with a big stupid grin while pinning a boutonniere on my lapel. They might be total dorks, but they were trying.
We stopped by the drive-through at Mickey D’s the way we always said we would on prom night, ordering Big Macs and Happy Meals in our fancy clothes.
When we arrived at the dance, I had to admit, it was cool.
Arches of balloons with yards of streamers covered the entrance to the hotel ballroom.
Flashes popped in one corner where couples lined up for official pictures.
A long table along the side wall was covered with snacks and rows of bottled water.
Carlos smacked my arm. “Where’s the punch bowl? How can anybody spike a bunch of bottles?”
Bill shoved him aside. “This isn’t 1950.”
“I wanted a punch bowl,” Carlos grumbled.
A DJ surrounded by equipment played a hair band rock anthem, and my thoughts instantly turned to Ava. If she had been here, I could have requested “Highway to Hell” and it would have been the perfect joke.
Bill elbowed me. “We should dance. Beats standing around.”
“No way,” Carlos said. “You’ll find me at the snacks.”
“Oh no,” I told him. “You dragged me here. We’re doing this right.”
We skirted clusters of dancers to find a spot in the middle. Bill started spinning Sarah in circles. Carlos shuffled self-consciously for a bit, then must have decided screw it, because he launched into a head-banging, arm-flailing spectacular.
A ripple of laughter went through the crowd at first, but then a few others found their 80s jam and followed his lead. I had enough of a lingering headache to avoid tossing my brain around, so I stepped aside from the fray, taking it easy while Carlos stole the limelight.
The next song slowed down. Bill brought Sarah in close. Carlos attempted to continue his head-banging, but it wasn’t funny anymore.
I wandered back and nudged his arm. “Refuel.”
He shrugged and followed me over to the snack table. We grabbed a plate of little fried somethings and found a piece of wall to lean against. Only a smattering of round tables filled the far corner, and they seemed to be taken up by hordes of girls, all chatting and watching the dance floor.
“So much fresh meat over there,” Carlos said. “Maybe I’ll make their day.”
“You go right ahead. But I wouldn’t call them meat if you want a chance.”
“You still hung up on Ava?”
It took a lot of control not to shoot back an angry reply. Carlos had never had a girlfriend. He didn’t know. “Yep.”
“But look at them.” He gestured with his plate.
“All yours, Romeo.”
He handed me his food. “I’m going in.”
I walked over to a trash can. The music picked up, but I stayed in the shadows. I was here. It was prom. I’d done the thing. If Carlos struck gold with some girl, I could consider my wingman duties complete.
I had Gram’s car. I could drive by Ava’s old duplex if I wanted. Maybe I would reclaim the flowers I brought Ava that last night. I doubt she was able to take them from the porch next door. Having some small thing of hers might make this night less horrible.
Carlos returned with not just one girl, but two. “Told you,” he said. “This is Sheila.” He took off for the dance floor with the other girl.
Sheila fiddled with the red wrist corsage that matched her bright dress. “Sorry. He sort of dragged me here.”
“Carlos is like that,” I said. “Didn’t we take chemistry together last year? Mr. Cameron relied on you to have the answers when nobody else did.”
Her face brightened. “That’s right! I remember you. The row by the wall.” She let go of the corsage. “You didn’t take physics?”
I shook my head. “I decided to coast senior year.” It wasn’t worth mentioning that my medication side effects last fall meant I couldn’t have passed physics even if I’d given it a shot.
She stared out at the dance floor, the disco lights turning her dark curls into different colors. I thought once more of the night I met Ava with her white gauze. What color had her tape been?
I couldn’t remember, and a panic sent heat through my chest. Blue? Yellow? Pink? I racked my brain, but I couldn’t come up with it. Was I already forgetting her?
Sheila turned to me. “Are you okay?”
I realized I wasn’t. The panic was growing, not receding. I felt woozy. “I have to sit down,” I said to Sheila.
She took my arm and led me to the tables. “Here.” She pulled out a chair.
I sank onto it. My headache raged. I hadn’t brought anything for it. There were meds in Gram’s car.
Sheila moved a chair next to me, and the other girls watched us with curiosity. “I remember you having to go to the nurse a lot,” she said. “Is something wrong?”
I didn’t want to say it. I barely knew this girl, and I was already a big enough freak.
I sat there for a moment, assessing myself. Legs: working. Eyes: fine. Head: rubbish. But the wooziness seemed to ebb.
The song ended, and the noise levels dropped. I drew in a ragged breath. Of course prom would get ruined in every way possible. First, no Ava. Now, these stupid brain blips that rendered me useless.
Sheila leaned closer. “Should I get someone?”
“No,” I said. “I’m all right.”
I stared at the floor, listening to my breath, making sure nothing more was going to happen.
But when the next song began, a rap anthem with a punishing beat, every thump of the speakers made my head pulse with pain.
“I’m going to go grab some Advil from my car,” I told her.
I almost added, “I’ll be right back,” but I didn’t.
“You want me to walk with you?” Her face was pinched with worry.
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
Carlos was out on the dance floor. So was Bill. I’d text them later, let them know I had to bail.
The cool air outside the hotel was pure bliss. So was the quiet.
I found Gram’s car and sat behind the wheel a moment, assessing again. I seemed reasonably okay. I opened the glove box and grabbed the small med container. It still had pills from three different prescriptions in it. My history in little colored discs.
I knocked out two Advil and popped them in my mouth. I should have brought a bottle of water with me. I managed to dry swallow and sat another moment. Latecomers in glittery gowns and black tuxes passed by. No one noticed me in my dark car.
I sat back in the seat, resting my head. Laughter filtered in. Prom night, and here I was, managing symptoms and wishing for quiet.
I wondered where Ava might be. How far would her mother have taken her to escape me? No internet. No phone. Maybe no memory of me by now.
I swiped my jacket sleeve at my eye. The night had been fun for a moment. We had pictures and memories of Carlos head-banging to bring up at reunions. It was enough.
I started the engine. I didn’t feel great, and occasionally the world seemed to swoop underneath me like I’d lost gravity.
But my eyes worked, and I knew the way home. So I drove.
When Gram looked up from her book as I came in, her eyes were sympathetic. “I’m glad you went.”
I stripped off my bow tie as I passed through the living room. “Thanks for making me go. It was cool.”
Then I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling, reimagining every scene at prom, but this time, with Ava in them.
The weeks went on with no sign of Ava. I went to class, scarcely paying attention, and sat in the cafeteria with Bill and Carlos. The prom girl was working out for Carlos, so sometimes she and Sheila sat with all of us. Sheila kept her distance from me. I didn’t blame her.
Graduation was a nightmare due to a debilitating headache. I had to take a serious drug to get through it but managed not to stumble on stage. That was about all I remembered.
Once school was out, my days became the same. I cut back my hours at Shelfmart, unable to keep a schedule. I worked on good days, but they were becoming fewer and fewer.
But every morning, I started the day with a search for Ava Roberts.
One morning, Gram entered my room with her coffee and peered at my screen.
“You’re still looking?”
“Of course I am.”
“Tucker, it’s been three months.”
“And she turned eighteen two months ago. Why didn’t she walk out? Why didn’t she come find me? I’ve put up a million signposts all over the internet. She only has to Google my name and I’ve got a whole website telling her how to find me.”
Gram sat on my bed, the steam from her mug fogging her glasses. “I know how frustrating this must be. I wish I could help.”
The dull ache in my forehead began to pulse. I pressed my hands into my eyes.
“How are the headaches?” Gram asked.
“About the same.”
“You want me to call the neurologist again? It might be more cluster seizures.”
“Why? So they can give me meds to make me stupider and slower than I already am?”
Gram set the mug on my desk and squeezed my shoulder. “This is a hard road. And with none of the meds working for you, you need to focus on managing your pain, not staring at a bright screen.”
She was right about that. Just closing my eyes cut the ache in half. “But the screen is the only thing that might help me find her.”
“I know, baby, I know.”
My hospital time hadn’t given me any answers, so we were still flying blind. Stress made it all worse.
Nothing had gone right since Ava left. Nothing.
“Why did all this crap have to happen to me?”
Gram increased the pressure of her hands on my shoulders. “I’ve asked myself the same thing a million times. The night of the accident, I thought I’d lose everybody I loved. My son. Your mother. Your brother. You.”
“Don’t tell me I’m lucky to have survived.”
“I wouldn’t. But I sure am lucky you did.”
My computer dinged. Another hit on the word “Ava.” But it was some other woman, fifty years old. She’d won a business award.
Looking at the screen again made my head buzz. My hand began to tremble.
“That’s not good,” Gram said. “Looks like a focal seizure to me. Into bed. You’ll need to recover.”
I didn’t even argue. I fell back on my pillow, arms crossed over my face.
There was nothing left to fight for.