One month later
Ripley
I stare at myself in the mirror. The bruising from my orbital fracture repair has just begun to fade. Over the past month, I’ve dealt with constant headaches and double vision. Wearing an eye patch helps, but then it prompts more stares from people. It doesn’t matter though, because nothing matters anymore. Brock’s gone, and none of us have heard from him. A few weeks ago, I swear he called, but he wouldn’t speak. I don’t even care if he was going to tell me we were over—I just wanted to hear his voice so I would know he was okay.
Some of our friends have rallied behind me as I’ve tried to find Brock. Others stopped returning calls and un-friended me on social media. Again, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care about any of that shit; I just want Brock back. I want to know he’s okay, and I want him to understand no one blames him for what happened.
Jonah’s picking me up in ten minutes to take me to one of our local malls, to hand out missing person flyers. In a surprising turn of events, Jonah’s become a good friend. Cale and Kat don’t agree with the friendship, but I think right now they’re too worried I’m going to break, so they’ve let it slide.
I’m keeping it together by a tiny thread, but at least I’m keeping it together. I’ve hit malls, grocery stores, and numerous other stores looking for him, but I’ve come up with nothing. I’ve yet to ask his parents if they know where he is, and to be honest, I’ve been avoiding it because Brock’s dad scares me. Jonah’s offered to go with me, so maybe this weekend I’ll finally go. Maybe they’ll have answers, maybe they won’t, but I have to at least ask.
I quickly throw on track shorts and a fitted t-shirt then slip on a pair of flip-flops. My hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, and the only makeup I’m wearing is cover-up for the bruising. In the living room, I find my mom and dad sitting together on the sofa.
They know it was an accident, but I think they’re still in shock it happened at all. I know they’re worried about Brock, but they’re also worried about me. I hate to admit it, but I’ve eavesdropped on them a lot lately. I overheard my dad tell my mom he showed up at Brock’s parents’ house looking for him, but Brock’s dad slammed the door in his face. Just like everyone else they’re waiting for me to break.
“Where are you going today?” my mom asks.
“Davenport.” I hear a car door slam and a moment later, the doorbell rings.
My parents are still on the fence about Jonah, especially since they know he instigated the fight, but he’s been working hard at proving how sorry he is and trying to make up for everything.
I grab the stack of flyers off the table in the foyer and yell goodbye to my parents. Jonah is standing at the door in basketball shorts, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes, and a hat sits on top of his blond head. For as long as I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him dressed so causally, and I’ve never seen him look unkempt. Even playing football, the guy always looked like he was ready for a photo shoot. Now he looks like he crawled right out of bed.
“Hey Rip, you ready?” He takes the flyers from me and I follow him to his royal blue Camaro. It’s a totally douchey car, but that’s okay because up until recently, I thought he was a total douche.
I’m lost in thought as we make our way toward the mall feeling like a part of my soul is missing. I know I’m young and there are other fish in the sea; I know two eighteen-year-olds couldn’t possibly be as serious about each other as Brock and I were—are—but he’s my soul mate. If there were ever two people destined to be together, it’d be Brock and me. My vision gets cloudy and my nose begins to burn, but I fight it back. I have to be strong right now. Falling apart won’t help find Brock.
My head begins to throb so I grab a pain pill out of my bag and quickly swallow it down with my bottle of water.
“Is your head hurting?”
I turn my head and look at Jonah. His expression looks troubled, as it usually does whenever I have headaches or have to wear my eye patch because my vision is giving me trouble. “Just a little bit.”
He grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. “I’m so sorry.” His voice is hoarse.
“Jonah stop. It’s okay.” We lapse back into silence and I close my eyes.
We pull into the parking lot of the mall and I take a deep breath before climbing out of his car with the flyers in my hands. As we make our way inside I close my eyes and say a little prayer that someone has seen him. Inside, we stand by the food court, and I start handing them out to people who will take them.
“Hi. Have you seen this guy at all?” I repeat this over and over. Most people just shake their heads and some simply say no, and my frustration grows with each answer or non-answer. Across the way, I spot Jonah holding up a flyer and talking to an older couple. Around him, girls have gathered and are clearly checking him out, but he does nothing except hand them a flyer and move on.
He must feel me watching because he looks at me and gives me a smile. That night of the party, he didn’t leave the hospital until I was discharged. At first I wouldn’t talk to him, but every day he showed up at my parents’ house until I finally caved—mostly because I wanted him to say whatever he had to say and then leave me alone.
What I didn’t expect was that his parents paid off my ER bill and said they would pay for anything that had to do with my injury. They tried to pay for the surgery, but my parents have good insurance and told them it wasn’t necessary. Again, every day he was over, bringing me snacks, books to read, movies—whatever he thought might make me feel better. I figured at first he was just trying to pay me off, but when it was clear that Brock was gone, he stepped in to help find him.
We stay at the mall for a couple hours and once all the flyers are handed out, we go across the parking lot to Olive Garden to eat before heading home. I only pick at my food; between the pain pills, headache, and stress, my appetite is nil.
“You need to eat,” Jonah says from across the table.
I stab at my salad and take a bite, forcing it down my throat. It feels like sandpaper going down. I set my fork down and grab my water, taking a sip. “Can you still come with me to Brock’s parents’ house this weekend?”
“Yep. Do you think they know where he is?” He looks at my plate then back up at me and sighs. Our waitress passes our table and he asks her to get us a to-go box.
“I don’t know. What if they do? What if they won’t tell me?” My heart starts to race thinking about the possibility that they know but don’t plan on telling me, and I shake my head. “Actually, can we not talk about this right now? Are you getting excited about leaving for school?”
He’s heading to play football at the University of Wisconsin in Madison and will be studying journalism. My plan is still to go to Western in a month, even though I really don’t want to. Brock and I were supposed to do it together and it just feels wrong to be going without him, but I know he wouldn’t want me to miss out on the experience.
“I’m excited to start training with my team. I’ve missed playing ball. What about you?”
“I don’t know, I guess I’m excited. This just wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Ugh, sorry I’m a downer.” I grab my bag and pull out my pain pills. Shaking one out, I pop it into my mouth and swallow it down.
When we pull into my driveway a while later, I grab my to-go container. “Thanks again for coming with me today. I’ll call you tomorrow about Saturday.”
“Okay sounds good. If you get bored later and want to talk or whatever, just call me.” I get out of the car and give him a wave before I head into the house. My mom’s in the kitchen and my dad’s mowing the grass in the back yard.
“Hey honey. Any luck?” she asks as she moves to stand right in front of me, resting her hands on my shoulders.
“No. I’m going to talk to his parents this weekend.” I don’t like the look on my mom’s face.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea Ripley? I know you have questions and you think they may have the answers, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go. I’m sure your dad would do it for you.”
“Jonah’s going to come with me.”
“Okay, well I hope you get the answers you want.” She brushes back the hair that’s escaped my ponytail. “Baby girl, I hate saying this, but have you thought about the fact that he just might be gone for good?” My body stiffens. “I don’t want to upset you honey, but maybe he’s just gone and not coming back.” Her voice cracks at the end. She’s always loved Brock, has always been supportive of our relationship and how serious it’s been from the beginning.
“Don’t you think I know that? I do, but I have to at least try. I’m just not ready to accept that he’s gone for good. It’s only been a month and a half. Maybe he just needed to get his head together and will be back when he’s ready.” Even as I say the words, I don’t believe them. In my heart of hearts, I know I’ve lost my best friend forever.
I head to my bedroom before the tears begin to fall, collapsing on my bed and staring at the picture on my nightstand. It was taken the summer before our senior year when Brock came to our family reunion. He and I were sitting on a blanket under a tree, and we were surrounded by little ones. My cousin’s two-year-old daughter Avery sat in my lap, and we were laughing because she shoved her lollipop in Brock’s face and it stuck to his cheek and hung there. The little stinker clapped and then farted in my lap.
All the little ones used Brock as their personal jungle gym, but he loved it. I rub my chest as pain explodes in it. Rolling to my side, I curl up into the fetal position and let exhaustion take me under.
My eyes peer out the passenger side window of Jonah’s car. “I can go talk to them if you want,” Jonah says from the driver’s seat.
I don’t turn from the window. “No, it should be me. Will you wait here? It might not sit well with them if you come to the door.” His sigh hangs heavy in the air. “It’ll be okay. I won’t go in the house.”
His hand reaches out, grabbing mine and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be here if you need me.” I give him what I hope is a confident smile and then he lets go. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, I wipe my sweaty palms on the legs of my jean shorts. I slowly make my way up the sidewalk, trepidation filling me as I get closer and closer to the door. Just as I’m about to step onto the little landing, the door opens and his mom steps out.
I can’t hide my shock when I get a look at her. Mrs. James has always been willowy, but she’s painfully thin now. The shadows under her eyes are so dark against her pale skin. “Wh-What are you doing here Ripley?” Her voice is almost a whisper.
“Have you heard from Brock? Do you know where he is?” She doesn’t say anything, just wrings her hand together. “Please! I need to know where he is.” My eyes burn with unshed tears as I stare up at her.
“H-He j-joined the Marines.” Tears slip from her eyes and she looks at me. “He’s n-never coming back.” She turns and quickly moves back inside the house, shutting the door behind her.
I’m too stunned to move at first. I’m caught between screaming and crying, and a dull throb begins behind my eyes. This is it. It’s over. He left me and he’s never coming back. On that thought, I turn and slowly walk to Jonah’s car, and I’m about to reach it when I hear the devil himself.
“He left because of you. I hope you’re happy.” A door slams and my body jerks.
My arms wrap around my middle, and that’s when I feel myself finally break.