LONG LOST

by Brent, Cora

  I have the crater’s dimensions memorized and I rattle them off to sound smart. Caris mentioned she was good in school. I’m not but I don’t want her to know that.

  “This is really cool,” she says. “Do you come here a lot?”

  “Yeah. It’s nice at night. Really quiet. When you look up you can see more stars than you can see in town.”

  “Which one is your favorite?”

  “Which what?”

  “Star.”

  I never really think about what the stars are called. I just like looking at them and thinking about how there are far away places than no one down here knows a thing about. I mumble some dumb answer and Caris asks a question about the crater.

  “There are much bigger ones,” I tell her. “There’s a huge one in Arizona.”

  She’s snapping dozens of pictures with her phone. “Have you been there?”

  “Nope, never been out of Texas.”

  “Me either. My dad is from New York and he has to go there for business once a month but my mom hates to travel.”

  She abruptly pivots and snaps a photo of me. Then she squints at her phone and giggles. “You didn’t smile, Johnny.”

  “You didn’t warn me you were taking a picture.”

  “Well, now I’m warning you.” Caris stands right next to me, shoulder touching shoulder, and she holds her phone up to take a picture of the two of us together with the crater in the background. She lowers the phone and turns it around so I can see. Fuck. I look gross. At least it’s a cute picture of her.

  She notices the time and lets out a groan.

  “Crap. I didn’t realize it was after four. My aunt told me to be home by five. Do you know the best way to get to Dunstan Street from here?”

  “It’s easiest if we double back the way we came. It’s only a few blocks from the town square but you probably knew that part.”

  She nods and starts walking beside me. “Is that close to where you live?”

  Nope. Dunstan Street is where the old, pretty houses are. The people who have at least a little bit of money live on streets like Dunstan. I live in a trailer park halfway across town and out of sight.

  “It’s not too far from where I live,” I say and hope she doesn’t ask for details.

  On the walk back to town Caris exclaims suddenly, “Oh look, a butterfly!”

  I look up in time to see vivid orange wings with splashes of black and white.

  “It’s a Monarch,” Caris tells me.

  “A what?”

  “A Monarch butterfly. It’s the Texas state butterfly.”

  I don’t care much about butterflies but I think it’s cool that she knows them by name. She makes me wish I was better in school so I’d know about more things than just the meteor crater and the quickest Arcana shortcuts.

  When we get to the town square, Caris assures me that she knows the way from here. She retrieves her broken bicycle and I offer to wheel it over to Dunstan Street for her but she grabs the handlebars and says she can deal with it.

  We’re kind of awkwardly facing off in front of a monument dedicated to all the Arcana boys who died in wars in the last century. The names of dead soldiers are all inscribed at the base of a galloping horse statue. No one has ever been able to explain the meaning of the horse to me. I don’t think people were riding horses in World War 2.

  “So, um…” Caris says and for the first time she seems kind of shy. She holds onto the broken bike with one hand and tucks her hair behind her ears with the other.

  It’s weird how I don’t want to say goodbye to her. Being around Caris makes me feel like talking a lot more than I usually talk. That’s probably why I decide to be brave enough to ask her the next question.

  “You want to hang out again tomorrow?”

  She lights up and a warm glow spreads inside my chest. She asks me where I want to meet and when.

  On the walk home I’m actually smiling even though there’s nothing worth smiling about at home.

  This is the best day I’ve had in a long time.

  Jay

  Shane was hung over first thing in the morning but after a few cups of coffee he was conscious enough to head over to the bakery with me. There’s a ton of work to do. And, more importantly, I needed to get the hell out of the house before I come face to face with Caris again.

  Ruby’s Bakery is located in a small strip mall that fronts one of the main arteries crisscrossing through Hutton. The university athletic fields are in sight and the location is promising but the crumbling brick facilities should have been renovated years ago. Beside the CLOSED sign on the door there’s a note prettily written in calligraphy explaining that due to the death of beloved owner Ruby Wagner the bakery is currently closed. Shane told me Caris had written the note.

  Once inside, Shane begins explaining things. He’s already tried to put in an effort but he doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing. One of the part time employees has already found other work. The other one is an eighty-year-old woman named Delia and she’s worked here since Ruby opened the doors nearly thirty years earlier. She remembers Shane’s mother and she’s eager to help him resurrect the bakery. Ruby had entrusted her with all the recipes and Delia’s been teaching Shane how to bake mass quantities of cookies and sweet rolls.

  The first thing I do is to test all the equipment. Machinery is something I’m comfortable with even if I’m unsure what everything here is used for. When I point out that one of the tabletop mixers isn’t working, Shane just nods.

  Shane is good at reading my moods but I can mask them when I choose to. He has no idea that I tossed and turned all night atop the blue quilt in the guest room and thought about someone I assumed I’d never be required to think about again.

  Meanwhile, Caris was in her own room a couple of walls away, probably blissfully dreaming with no clue who she was living with.

  This is really fucked up.

  Like needle in a haystack, Twilight Zone kind of fucked up.

  If anyone other than Shane was counting on me I would have packed up and been halfway back to Arizona before daylight.

  But Shane is counting on me so I can’t go anywhere, at least not until he’s got a handle on running the place. I’m sure there are bills that still need to be paid even if no business is coming through the door so right now the bakery is just bleeding money. Shane had been hoping to get the doors reopened next week but after a long morning I don’t believe that’s realistic. There’s got to be health inspectors and other bureaucratic shit to deal with. I need to figure that out. When I tried to search for ‘How To Run A Bakery’ online there wasn’t a whole lot of useful information that came up.

  “What do you think?” Shane asks when we break for lunch at a Mexican food truck parked down the block.

  I squirt hot sauce into my plate at the condiment table and grab some napkins. There’s no place to sit so we end up propped against a flat wall halfway in the shade. It’s hot out and kind of muggy but a cloudy haze covers the sun and that makes sitting outside bearable.

  “We’ve got our work cut out for us,” I tell him in all honesty before taking a big bite of my food.

  “I know,” he says but sounds rather cheerful about the prospect.

  When I’ve swallowed and can talk again I ask him an important question. “You sure this is what you want? I don’t know how much you could get if you sell but it would be something.”

  He’s just shoved two street tacos into his mouth and he looks thoughtful as he chews.

  “Eh, the thought is tempting at times but any money I’d get wouldn’t last long.”

  “It would last longer if you were smart about where you put it.”

  Shit, listen to me. I sound like a fucking parent.

  Shane is shaking his head. “I’d have nothing to show for it once the money ran out. And I owe it to Ruby to give this my best shot. Besides, there’s something about being back in the place where I was born, even if I don’t remember it. I feel like I’m coming
full circle somehow, like the shitty years in between can be erased. By the way, Lana was asking some questions about you. She was wondering if you were mad about something last night.”

  “I hope you explained to her that I’m always this delightful.”

  “I did. That won’t stop her from trying to get you to break out of your shell.”

  “Then it’s up to you to keep her occupied enough that she doesn’t have time to worry about me or my shell.”

  Shane issues a grunt of laughter. I ought to tell him about my link to Caris.

  “Hey, you know that Caris girl? Yeah, my family has kind of a habit of killing her family.”

  I guess I’m hoping Caris suffers from some form of amnesia that carved that particular summer from her mind. Even if there’s no amnesia involved, she might not wish to revisit an ugly chapter of her life. She’d likely prefer that I really am a stranger, just some random guy named Jay Phoenix who keeps his head down and isn’t much fun.

  Plenty of people insist that a name can’t define you but that’s a crock of shit. A prince born into royalty inherits the thickest natural armor imaginable. A name can give you power. A name can be a brand of disgrace. Or a name can provide the anonymity that you’ve always wished for, even if you remain the same person beneath the hardened numb layers visible to the rest of the world.

  Shane keeps talking while my mind wanders. He’s going on and on about his girlfriend again. Lana has him taking multivitamins and thinking about the future. Like how maybe he’ll try to take the high school equivalency exam again. And now that he’s a homeowner he wants to learn how to mow the half dead lawn and fix the kitchen sink in case it breaks. Lana has three semesters of school left and she hadn’t been sure she wanted to stay in Texas after graduation but now that she’s met Shane she’s talking about getting a job here in Hutton. Sounds like a fast pace for a one month old relationship but what the hell do I know?

  “Lana’s amazing,” I assure him. I know that’s what he wants to hear and anyway, what’s not to like about Lana? She’s friendly and beautiful and says ‘I love you’ to my best friend.

  In the afternoon Delia drops by because she knew we’d be here today. She’s tiny and dressed in purple from head to toe. She doesn’t look like she’s eighty years old. She’s a quick worker and good at explaining things. After two hours with Delia I’m feeling more confident already.

  On the way home Shane tells me it’ll just be the two of us tonight. Lana made plans to hang out with friends to celebrate the end of the semester before everyone scatters for the summer and she’s dragging Caris along with her.

  Shane doesn’t mention anything else about me hooking up with Caris, like he can sense that I’m not interested. Which I’m not. That would be some Shakespearean level shit.

  To my relief, the girls are gone already when we get to the house. Maybe things can be this way all summer; coming and going at different times and any contact with Caris will be somewhere between minimal and nonexistent. She has her own apartment behind a closed door. She can stay over there. I can stay over here.

  Shane reheats a couple of the cold steaks from last night and then asks me to help him hang the dartboard he wants to install on the patio. We kill a few hours playing darts and Shane keeps jumping in the pool at odd intervals. Once he stays underwater for so long that I hunker down at the side, about to jump in after him, when he pops up and spits a fountain of water that hits me in the chest.

  “Asshole.” I make an obscene gesture and return to the patio.

  He laughs and flicks his wet hair out of his eyes. “What’s the matter, you forget how to swim, buddy?”

  I fire a dart from ten feet away and hit the bull’s-eye. “I never did like to swim.”

  Shane hops out of the water and drips puddles all over the patio. There are no towels around so he wanders into the house to dry off. When he returns he’s got a red and white striped beach towel draped over his shoulders, a bottle of Jack D and shot glasses balanced on his fingers.

  I’m aware that a guy who’s been in and out of rehab shouldn’t be drinking. Shane’s aware of that too. But this morning’s hangover and the fact that he’s now pouring whiskey into shot glasses point to the probability that his memory has faltered.

  He takes note of my raised eyebrows and shrugs. “Just a couple of shots, Jay. We’re still celebrating your arrival. Come on, you know a few drinks don’t send me reeling.”

  I do know that. Alcohol isn’t Shane’s primary weakness.

  The glasses bear the Hutton State University logo. They probably belong to Lana, or maybe to Caris.

  “One shot,” I agree, raising a glass and pouring liquid fire down my throat at the same time Shane swallows his. I don’t want to be drunk. I just want all the Caris thoughts and memories to vacate my brain. That requires at least two more shots, which Shane pours gladly.

  My next few rounds of darts aren’t nearly as successful. Now I’m buzzed enough to strip down to my boxers and fall into the pool. When I’m submerged I understand the appeal of staying under as long as you can stand it. A hypnotic quiet envelopes me when I take a seat on the floor of the pool and stare up at the blurred patio lights beyond the surface, which looks to be a lot farther away than it really is.

  “Why are you trying to make me hate you?”

  “Because you should.”

  Urgent pressure builds in my chest.

  I remember the look on her face. Anger and hurt and a touch of fear. I remember breathing tobacco into my lungs and exhaling a cloud of smoke. The sensation in my chest was different than this, the burden more oppressive. I should have felt sorrow over the tears in her eyes because they were my fault. That’s when I knew there was something wrong with me. I have the Hempstead blood. There’s always been a monster inside, waiting to claw its way out. There always will be.

  I push off the concrete floor with my palms and rocket to the surface. I take a few seconds to gulp the humid night air before noticing that I have some company in the form of a killer pair of legs. And black heels. I’m a sucker for heels. Especially at the end of a short skirt. Taking all those shots has relaxed more than my brain. My dick vibrates to life and if I look at those legs and those heels for a few more seconds I’ll be picturing them propped up on my shoulders.

  “Thought you were going for a world record,” Shane hoots from the patio. He’s holding Lana with one arm. The other one is pouring more shots.

  “Hey there, Jay,” Lana calls. She giggles when her boyfriend nuzzles her neck.

  Now I can see that Caris is the owner of the legs and the heels. The toes of her shoes are pointed right at the edge of the pool and she’s staring down at me. The light pink dress she’s wearing is short and spaghetti strapped and has a soft, velvety look about it. Her glasses are missing and she wears makeup.

  “Hi,” she says with a shy smile.

  Fucking hell.

  She’s a seductive angel. She could be my nightmare if I let her.

  “Care, come take a shot,” Lana begs before clinking glasses with her boyfriend.

  “No, I’ve had enough for tonight,” says Caris. Her focus remains on me. There’s knowledge in her eyes that wasn’t there yesterday.

  Lana calls out to me next. “What about you, Jay?”

  “I’m good.” I’d be a whole lot better if Caris would take her legs and her heels and her sympathetic expression somewhere else.

  Lana and Shane are sloppy about knocking back their shots. Shane grabs Lana’s glass away and then gives her a hungry, sexually charged kiss with both hands twisting in her black hair. She breaks the kiss and murmurs something to him, taking his hand in hers and kissing the knuckles. Shane promptly throws his towel on the ground and starts leading her into the house.

  “Goodnight, kids.” He waves and takes a few steps back to grab the whiskey bottle. “We’ll try not to shake the walls too much.”

  Their laughter echoes as they disappear into the house together. An awkward handf
ul of seconds ensues. Caris hasn’t budged from the edge of the pool and I’m still standing there in the water.

  “You look like you want to say something,” she says.

  I force myself to sound casual. “Shane shouldn’t drink so much.”

  She tugs on the ends of her hair. She’s nervous. “I didn’t sleep last night.”

  “That sucks.”

  A tiny frown wrinkles the space between her eyes. “Can we talk without you running away again?”

  I dislike the way we’re positioned. Standing down here in the water while she stares at me from up there makes me feel like her goddamn royal subject or something.

  I make my way to the edge of the pool and hop up to sit on the concrete with my back to her. I hear her heels clicking in the other direction and a second later Shane’s towel lands on my head. When I finish drying off my face and shoulders I see that she’s removed her shoes and she sits beside me. Closer than I’d like her to sit. She drops her bare feet into the pool. If I edge away a few inches it would get my point across but why the hell should I be the one to move? She opens up a purse in the shape of a water canteen and withdraws her glasses. She looks more like herself again when they’re back on her face. A completely grown up, extremely sexy version of herself.

  “So what do you want?” I ask her, aware that I’m being a prick.

  She looks me over carefully, sadly. “I didn’t recognize you at first.”

  I toss the towel behind me and pretend I don’t hear her.

  “The name threw me off,” she explains. She reaches out to touch my bare shoulder. I jerk away before she can get there. Her fingers recoil and curl up. Her hand falls into her lap. “God, you look so different.”

  My head’s too fucked up to have this conversation right now. If she were any other pretty girl dangling her legs in the pool and watching me with big, sad eyes I’d be thinking about fucking her. I am thinking about fucking her. My dick agrees with my head that this is a good idea. If I play this a certain way I’m sure I could have that pink dress on the ground and her mouth on my cock within an hour.