LONG LOST

by Brent, Cora

  “I’ll see you later,” I say, surprising her by leaning over the couch for an impulsive hug. She sort of awkwardly pats my back but when I pull away I see that she is pleased by the affection.

  Aunt Vay’s last word of advice is to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. I’m on my way out the side door with the cold water in my hand when I nearly collide with Gary.

  “Whoa,” he says, pretending to reel back and placing his hands on my shoulders as if he’s doing me a favor by steadying me. I instantly hate the warm pressure of his fingers.

  “Sorry,” I mumble and try to take a step backwards. My heel bumps into the concrete foundation of the house.

  His breathe exits in a garlicky wheeze and he chuckles. “Where are you running off to, girlie?”

  I tip my head back and stare him straight in the eye. I don’t want to. The sight of his beady eyes and corn yellow teeth make me want to throw up.

  “I’m meeting a friend,” I say, loud and clear. “And I’d like you to let go of me now, Gary.”

  His grin falters. The stench of stale cigarette smoke rolls off him in waves. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He makes a big show out of taking his hands away and raising them in the air. I just want to get away from him as quickly as possible so I break off into a run. I don’t understand why Aunt Vay bothers with Gary. He messes up the kitchen, eats all the food and perspires all over the couch. She’s never excited to see him, never jumps up to kiss him or anything. I don’t know if they sleep together and I don’t want to know. It’s like Gary is a permanent habit that she has simply accepted.

  I know Gary isn’t following me but I don’t slow down until I’ve turned the corner. Somewhere along the way my hair tie fell out, which isn’t surprising because they never seem to stay put in my thin, super straight hair. I’m already sweaty and I pluck my shirt away from my skin, trying to air out a little so I don’t have to meet Johnny with a sweaty shirt. The humidity here is not as bad as it is at home but it’s still plenty hot.

  The Arcana Market is at the north end of Division Street. Now that I know my way around a little I’m starting to feel a happy sense of familiarity whenever I walk the streets of Arcana. I’ve never seen where Johnny lives but he finally admitted to me yesterday that he lives in the trailer park about a mile from the center of town. He told me this shyly, like he expected me to be disgusted or something. I don’t know why. Everyone has to live somewhere and for all I know his small home is filled with more warmth and happiness than the stately brick house where I live with my parents.

  I’m almost half an hour early to the market. A bell clinks overhead when I step through the glass door. An old man with very dark skin and thick glasses waves at me while I linger just inside the entrance.

  “You’re Suzanne’s daughter,” he announces cheerfully. “I’d know you anywhere. Heard you were staying with Varina this summer.”

  “Yes, I am.” I return his smile because unlike Gary, there’s nothing creepy about the way he looks at me. He’s very talkative. His name is Harold Keyser and he owns the market with his twin brother, Roger. He’s lived in Arcana his whole life and he remembers my mother very well. For a split second a look of sorrow replaces his good mood and I have to wonder if he’s remembering the rest of the Chapel family. He’s definitely old enough to remember my grandparents. It’s possible he was right there behind the cash register when he got the news that they’d been killed.

  Harold’s smile returns and he insists on giving me a bottle of soda and a small bag of chips free of charge, as a welcoming gift. I gratefully accept. Then he has to interrupt our conversation because a woman with a very cranky little red haired boy and a cart filled with groceries is wheeling her way to the register to check out.

  There are a few other customers in the market and I don’t want to get in anyone’s way so I decide to take a seat on a splintery wooden bench right outside. The nacho cheese chips are my favorite and I’m crunching away happily when it occurs to me to save some for Johnny. I roll up the bag and sort of awkwardly hold it, wishing for once that I carried a purse like my mother is always urging me to do. She insists that once I start getting my period carrying a purse will become a requirement because there are certain items a girl can’t be without. By the end of the school year every one of my friends had gotten her period, or at least claimed to. I’m in no hurry. Being up to your eyeballs in tampon strings and sanitary pads isn’t something to look forward to. But I do kind of hope I’m not still waiting around for it to show up in ten years. That would probably suck.

  A peek at my phone tells me that Johnny should be here soon. He’s never been late yet. I wish he had a phone too so we could talk at night.

  Swinging my legs with impatience, I notice the scrape on my left knee. That happened yesterday because we were scaling piles of rocks that had been left in an empty field by a construction crew. My foot slipped on some gravel and my knee skidded over a jagged point. Aside from a tiny trickle of blood I was fine, but Johnny was concerned and talked me into abandoning the activity. Once we were back on flat ground he tore off the right sleeve of his shirt and poured bottled water on the scrap of fabric before handing it over so I could clean the dirt out of the cut. That’s why I like Johnny; he’s the kind of kid who will ruin his shirt for you even though from the looks of it he probably doesn’t have very many.

  There aren’t a lot of people walking around on Division Street, but then again it’s mid morning on a weekday. The frazzled young mother departs the market with her son and her groceries. She doesn’t notice me but the little boy gives me a mischievous toothless grin and pretends to shoot me with his fingers. I can see now that the woman is pregnant and I wonder what kind of big brother the boy will be. I would have been an excellent big sister. At home I still have a dresser drawer full of baby things that I started buying with my allowance as soon as I found out my mom was pregnant. The thought is almost enough to make me cry right here on this stupid bench.

  I forget about crying when I notice the couple across the street. They are older, probably in high school. She’s got curly blonde hair, long suntanned legs and the shortest denim skirt I’ve ever seen. He’s dark haired, tall, and his muscled arms are roped around the girl’s waist. They are kissing. It’s a furious level of kissing, nothing like the tentative pecks I used to get from Adam Ruiz last fall when we told people we were together for a solid month because it seemed like everyone was doing the same thing.

  No, this boy kisses like he’s devouring his favorite meal and she’s loving it, pressing herself closer and hooking her leg on his hip when he reaches under her shirt right here in the middle of Division Street. And though a flush of embarrassed heat travels from my belly to my cheeks, I can’t look away.

  He’s got both hands under her shirt now and she’s moved on to suck his neck so I can see his face for the first time. He catches me looking and smirks. He’s obviously used to this kind of attention. Any one of my friends would squeal about how hot he is and they’d be right. I can’t stop staring at him.

  All of a sudden he drops his hands and kind of pushes the girl away. He turns around and starts walking south and she’s confused, tucking her shirt back in as she follows and begs him to tell her what’s wrong. He doesn’t answer and I get the feeling he’s enjoying her distress. He’s bored with her and wants her to know it. She continues to follow him and then they turn the corner so I can’t see what happens next. I don’t understand why girls do that; chase after boys who treat them with disrespect. It makes me mad. I’ll never let any guy treat me like that.

  Seconds later Johnny emerges around that same corner. He’s got his head down, like he’s deep in thought. His hair is a little too long and falls forward so his expression is hidden. He’s wearing a plain white tee and a pair of army green shorts that I’ve seen him wear before. When we stand side by side he’s about an inch shorter than me but my mom says that boys hit their growth spurts later than girls.

  Suddenly
he stops and looks up. He smiles when he sees me waiting on the bench. He really is a cute boy, not that I’m thinking of him like that. But I can see how one day he’ll get older and maybe I will think of him like that.

  I’m still considering this while he closes the distance between us.

  “Saved you my chips,” I say instead of hello.

  “Thanks.” He sits right down beside me and eats the rest of the bag in two mouthfuls. He doesn’t think it’s weird when I also offer him the rest of my soda. He’s not all uptight and immature about things like spit and germs.

  After Johnny finishes his snack he asks me what I want to do. We still haven’t taken the bus to see that shopping mall he told me about but I don’t want to do that today. I want to see the meteor crater again.

  It’s a long walk but at least a haze of gray clouds is blocking the sun and Johnny doesn’t hesitate. I would have been happy to do something else if he objected.

  We’re past Division Street and I’m showing him a video of three kittens playing with a ball of yarn. I watch this video often, for no reason other than it’s something that makes me happy. Our shoulders keep bumping because we are walking so close together.

  The sharp, angry voice startles both of us.

  “Hey, little fuck face! Get over here.”

  At first I don’t believe we’re the ones being yelled at. Then I notice that the boy who was making out on Division Street a few minutes ago is the one doing the yelling. He’s standing in an empty parking lot across the street and the blonde girl is still hanging around with him, though she’s got her arms crossed and a sullen look on her face.

  “Come on,” Johnny mutters and starts race walking away. I have to hurry to keep up with him.

  We’re not quick enough. The sound of pounding footsteps follows.

  “Fucking hell, quit running like a bitch you little shit!”

  Johnny stops. He shoots me a helpless look, a silent apology for whatever is about to happen. Then he swivels around to face his tormentor.

  “What do you want, Rafe?” he asks.

  And now I understand.

  This is his brother. He has no sisters and only one brother. Johnny doesn’t talk about him much but I get the feeling they don’t get along. I can see it now, the resemblance between them. Rafe’s hair is darker plus he’s a few years older and much bigger, but they have the same nose and chin. Their eyes, however, are completely different. Johnny’s eyes are a warm, woody brown. Rafe’s are blue and cold.

  Johnny’s posture has changed, his good mood gone. His shoulders have tensed and his hands have balled into fists. Rafe looks the two of us over and is amused.

  “I just want to give you a piece of brotherly advice.”

  He punches Johnny in the shoulder hard and Johnny winces but stands his ground, regarding his brother with wariness

  “What advice is that?”

  Rafe jerks his head in my direction. “This little piece is your girlfriend?”

  “No! She’s my friend.”

  Rafe snorts. “No such thing. Hey, you can let her suck your limp little dick but tell her to get used to swallowing. The good ones always swallow.”

  Then he cackles like this is the funniest thing anyone has ever said in the history of words. The blonde girl has caught up to us by now and she mechanically laughs with him.

  I’m mortified. I don’t know where to look or what to say. Sometimes boys at school say disgusting things like that and even worse but there’s something infinitely more threatening about Rafe.

  Johnny’s fury is written all over his face, which has turned an angry red. He steps up, ready to do battle while his brother continues to howl with laughter. I quickly grab Johnny’s arm to pull him back. I don’t think I could stand watching him get hurt.

  “Let’s go,” I urge, still trying to pull him away, and from the stubborn set of his jaw I’m sure he’ll refuse but he finally nods and falls back.

  Rafe’s arm is around the blonde girl again. He mutters something to her and she looks annoyed but then bites the corner of her lip. She sinks to her knees while Rafe gyrates his hips toward her face in an obscene manner.

  “Stick around,” he says before yanking on the girl’s hair to draw her in. “We’ll let you watch how it’s done.”

  “Run,” Johnny mutters and he doesn’t need to say it twice.

  He’s faster than I am and yet he jogs by my side until we are sure Rafe is not following. I’m out of breath and I feel nauseous. I want to eliminate this past minute from my mind. I can’t imagine living with a person like that and I have to revise my opinion about Johnny’s home being a happy place. I’m also thinking about that bruise on his face the day we met. I bet he suffers a lot of bruises at the hands of his nightmare of a brother.

  After this incident with Rafe, Johnny is glum and embarrassed. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, stares down at the sidewalk and barely speaks. I want him to cheer up so I suggest we ditch the plans to walk all the way out to the crater and go to the lone movie theater in town. There’s only one screen and it’s playing one of those super hero action movies where things explode every thirty seconds. The film was released months earlier but Johnny had mentioned how much liked the movie. My dad sent me some pocket money so I have more than enough to treat us both. He mumbles something about paying me back another time and I don’t argue although there’s no need for him to pay me back.

  There are only about ten other people in the theater and it’s a pleasantly cool place to pass a couple of hours. There’s a moment when I see Johnny’s hand resting on his knee and I think about taking his hand in mine but in the end I’m too chicken. Besides, I like the way we’re just friends without all the boy and girl complications. Hanging out with Johnny makes me feel like I get to be a kid for a little while longer.

  Still, holding his hand for a little while would probably feel nice.

  By the time the movie ends it’s getting close to the time when I need to head home. I’m worried about Johnny. When I ask him if Rafe will do something to hurt him later on at home he shrugs off the concern and says Rafe probably lost interest three seconds after we ran off.

  “I’m sorry, Caris,” he says, looking so miserable that all I want to do is hug him. “I’m really sorry for what he said about you.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I assure him. “He probably can’t help being a jerk.”

  “Born that way,” Johnny agrees and relaxes into a smile.

  The market is more crowded than it was earlier. People are probably stopping on their way home to grab food for dinner. Harold is still ringing up orders at the cash register, but now a young woman is operating the second cash register that was empty earlier. Johnny helps me find the macaroni and cheese and I wait in Harold’s line to pay for it.

  Harold looks up and when he notices that I’m next in line he gives me a smile. Then he looks at Johnny and his smile fades. His eyes dart back to me and then return to Johnny. He’s still watching Johnny when he slowly hands the guy in front of me a receipt.

  Johnny hasn’t noticed. When I set the blue and yellow box on the counter he drifts away to examine the rack of sunglasses.

  “I’m back,” I announce as if it’s not obvious. I unfold the ten dollar bill Aunt Vay gave me and pass it to Harold. “Just here to pick up dinner.”

  Harold takes his eyes off Johnny long enough to ring up the food and accept payment. He counts out changes and passes it over. I’m confused because all of his happy cheerfulness has vanished and I get the feeling I’ve done something wrong.

  Harold’s brow furrows with concern. “Does Varina know you’re hanging out with the Hempstead boy?”

  I feel the change drop into my hand and I automatically send it to my back pocket. His question makes no sense to me.

  The Hempstead boy.

  Johnny has finished inspecting the rack of sunglasses and waits for me patiently by the door.

  I’ve never asked him his last name.


  I don’t know his last name.

  The Hempstead boy.

  There’s no way it’s a coincidence. The name of the man who killed my grandparents was Billy Hempstead. Aunt Vay has never mentioned the Hempstead family and I just assumed they were long gone from Arcana.

  I’m still frozen at the counter and Johnny’s head tilts as he regards me with curiosity. I feel lightheaded.

  “Yes, of course,” I tell Harold and I know I sound a little snotty. “Of course she knows.”

  Before he says anything else I barrel right out of the store with the hideous feeling that there’s not enough oxygen in there. Once outside I run halfway down the block and tip my head back to take big gulps of air.

  “Caris!” Johnny has chased me and he’s worried. He looks this way and that way, trying to figure out who or what upset me.

  “What’s going on?” he wants to know.

  I never asked him what his last name was because it never seemed important.

  And it’s not important.

  It’s just not.

  Because he’s still Johnny. He’s still my friend.

  Nonetheless there’s a quaver in my throat as I summon the answer to his question.

  “My mother is Suzanne Chapel. I’m the granddaughter of Richard and Nancy Chapel.”

  His eyes widen. His jaw hardens and he swallows. His head sinks and he stares at a giant crack in the sidewalk. After a few seconds he raises his head and there’s pain along with a silent plea in his brown eyes. He understands.

  “Caris, if I’d known that I would have told you.”

  “Told me what?” I’m afraid of the answer.

  Even though I already know the answer.

  An apology is all over his face as he delivers the news.

  “My grandfather was Billy Hempstead.”