If You're Out There

by Katy Loutzenhiser

  “Zan!” she says, prying my fingers from the handle. “Hey! What are you doing?”

  “It’s him!” I cry. “He’s after you!”

  The man is standing over us now, his expression oddly gentle. I swallow.

  “Priya,” he says softly. “Is that you?”

  I feel my body go slack as she nods, with a weird glassy-eyed smile.

  I search Priya’s face. I don’t understand.

  “Um, Zan?” She bites her lip. “This . . . is my dad . . .”

  The words take a moment to sink in. “Wait,” I say. “What?”

  The man’s eyes land on the gun at our feet. “Um, is everything okay?”

  Priya takes a long breath. “You know what? I think so.”

  In the living room, we sit by the fire, police lights flashing through the windows. The cops have been pulling us aside, taking statements one by one. The EMTs examined Priya in the back of an ambulance and cleaned a few cuts from her scuffle with Ben. They gave me ice for my chin and want me to watch for signs of concussion.

  Ben’s probably halfway to the station by now, his hands cuffed behind his back. They let Amanda ride along. Someone will have to set her up with a nurse again when all of this is done. Priya says she’ll visit. She’s a better person than I am. Though I don’t know. Maybe she’s right. Maybe Amanda did the best she could.

  Priya seems okay, but dazed. I think everyone is. At the moment, she’s reclining against a needlepoint pillow in my lap, with her legs outstretched on the couch, an arm slung over her head. She’s been explaining bits and pieces of the whole sordid ordeal, between long, exhausted silences.

  We all sat, frozen, as she told us about the weeks she and Ben spent on the run, before she wound up in the basement.

  I couldn’t help but grin as she explained the other stuff. Like how once she knew Ben was keeping up her social media, she decided to feed him inspiration. “I must have asked for twenty crates of blueberries, just to make sure it got through.”

  “And the selfie by the lake?” I asked.

  “That I just suggested,” she said, shrugging. “Honestly, it felt too easy. I told him people would get suspicious if I never showed myself in front of all those beaches I was supposedly going to. I knew that picture would be backed up on the cloud. I hoped you might recognize the earrings I left behind.”

  “What about all the cheesy sayings?”

  Priya sighed happily. “Your girl was a walking Bed Bath and Beyond for a while there. I guess it wasn’t a great sign for Ben’s mental state that he didn’t catch on. It’s not like I was subtle. I wanted those phrases to stick in his head, but do you know how hard it is to fit Dance like no one is watching naturally into a sentence?”

  “Well, I hate to break it to you,” I told her, “but that one never came up.”

  “Really,” she said, sounding vaguely disappointed. “Well, what did make it?”

  “Oh, you know. Stuff about seeing rainbows after rain and stars through the darkness.”

  “Ah,” she said with a serious nod.

  “Oh, and everything happens for a reason.”

  She sighed. “Right. I’d like whoever coined that one to please explain what just happened to me.”

  “I am so sorry it took me this long.”

  “Are you kidding?” She scoffed. “I’m just glad you got the message.”

  Logan is on the phone with his aunt now. I can see him through the open door, pacing the porch with police lights at his back. He’s cute when he’s serious. Well, cute all the time. He said he’d call my parents, too. I want to stay with Priya. As long as she wants me to.

  “So, Julian,” I say to the man seated across from me.

  “So,” he says, appearing generally (understandably) overwhelmed by the past hour. “We meet again.” He laughs, sort of, and no one quite knows what to say. Priya still hasn’t explained this piece of the puzzle. And I don’t want to press, but . . .

  “I was going to tell you,” she says after a minute, sitting up to face me.

  You’d think I’d be hurt, but I’m not. Definitely curious, though. I want to understand. “When did this all . . . ?”

  “Last spring,” she says. “Something was nagging at me. More and more, I felt . . . lost. Like I didn’t fit anywhere. Or . . . come from anywhere. I barely knew my mom’s side. I went with her to India for that one visit when I was little, and everyone was really nice, but I felt so completely foreign.”

  “Is that why you wanted to get involved with GRETA? To connect?”

  “Maybe,” she says. “A little bit. And at the same time, I had this whole other half, you know? I would talk to your mom about it. On nights I stayed over, if I couldn’t sleep. After a while, I started to get the feeling there was something she was holding back. So I did some digging. Turned out I was right.”

  I hesitate. “What do you mean?”

  “You know the girls’ trip story?”

  “I do.”

  She grabs a stray pillow and fiddles with its tassels. “Well, there were a few omitted details. Like Julian wasn’t a random guy. Their friend Tasha knew him from MIT. My mom could have called him up anytime. She chose not to tell him. Not to let him in my life. I guess she wanted to be free. No strings attached.”

  “Huh.” I take this in. “So. How did you . . .”

  She draws a long breath. “I had this huge box of cards and other stuff my mom had saved over the years. One day I started combing through it, and I came across this picture. It was a group shot of our moms and some other people. There was a note from their friend Tasha on the back. It said something like, Julian crashing girls’ night. There was a guy off to the side, wearing an MIT sweatshirt. I recognized the periodic table menu in the background.”

  For a minute I just stare at her, the realization landing like a thud. “So my mom knew?”

  “Yep,” says Priya. “I confronted her about it right around my birthday and she caved. Told me everything. I made her swear not to bring it up to anyone until I figured out where he was or . . . if he even wanted to know me. And then I just sort of . . . kept on keeping it to myself.” She holds my gaze. “Zan. It wasn’t . . . personal. I just needed to work it out on my own. I hope you’re not mad.”

  “I’m not,” I say. The words come automatically, but it strikes me how much I mean them. “Priya. We can have our own lives sometimes. Really. We don’t have to . . . share every little piece of ourselves.”

  “But I want to,” she says. “Usually. You’re my Zanita! My Mrs. Zantastic! And I’m finding I really hate secrets. But this one was just . . .” She shakes her head, like it still blows her mind.

  “I get it,” I tell her. “Really.”

  She eyes me warily. “When did you get so reasonable? And what parts of your life are you not telling me about? I’m suddenly feeling very jealous.”

  I laugh. “There’s nothing . . . Well.” I glance toward Logan on the porch. “We have a little catching up to do.”

  Julian smiles at us—I assume because we’re adorable—and Priya seems to relax a bit. “Well. I’m impressed your mom didn’t tell you, to be honest.”

  “Yeah,” I say, thinking it over. “She kept hinting that she thought you were, like, I don’t know. Finding yourself. So that sort of makes more sense now.”

  “I guess it comes with the job,” says Priya. “She’s good at keeping people’s secrets. My mom’s too.”

  “Were you mad?”

  She pauses a moment. “At first, yeah. But she was in a tough spot. I think she was afraid it would change how I saw things. Knowing my mom lied all those years. Alice was the only person who knew. Even Ben didn’t get the whole story. And she was right to worry. For a little while, I was mad at my mom.” The crack in Priya’s voice makes me want to cry. “And I hated that.”

  She sniffs and shakes it off. “We found that Tasha had gone off the grid so I couldn’t go through her. But there was a ‘Class of’ year on Julian’s MIT sweatshirt. I
used an old student directory to find him. It was weird at first, but we started talking on the phone. I was really excited when he got a job offer from U Chicago. We’d not only be able to meet, but actually get to know each other. Then moving threw a wrench in everything.” Julian shoots her a sad smile.

  “He’s the one you were calling,” I say. She catches my eye, curious, and I shrug. “There were a couple times. Little moments when I knew you weren’t telling me something. Nick too.”

  “Oh,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “How is Nick?”

  “Misses you,” I say. “But don’t worry. He’ll take you back in a hot second. Just watch.”

  She laughs, then frowns suddenly, turning to Julian. “Wait a minute. I don’t understand. How did you get here, exactly?”

  “Oh,” he says, shrinking into himself a little. He’s definitely peculiar. But in a nice, nonstalkerish way, I realize now. “I worked it out that I could get to Chicago a few days early back in June. It was last minute, so I decided to surprise you. But then no one came to the door. I figured you’d already left.”

  For a moment, Priya looks stricken. “You were the one who rang the doorbell that day. Ben must have thought you were part of that group after him.” She clenches her fists. “Ugh! You don’t even look Indian!” She forces a calm breath and turns to me. “That reminds me. I’m half Armenian. Isn’t that cool?”

  “I mean, I’m from Jersey,” says Julian. “So don’t get too excited.”

  Priya chuckles softly, then tilts her head. “So . . . How did you end up here?”

  Julian sits up in his chair, scratching at his stubble. “It was . . . a feeling, I guess. When you didn’t come to the door or take my calls, I got worried. I almost asked you, Zan, that first day we met. Priya had told me so much about you, and I figured if anyone knew what was going on, it would be you. But when you said Ben and Priya were still living at the house, it sort of threw me off and I didn’t know what to say. Seeing you at the zoo felt like a sign, but then you bolted. I tried to catch up with you, but you kept running away.” He pauses. “In retrospect, I realize how creepy that probably was.”

  “Definitely creepy,” I tell him. “But . . . it’s all good.” When he laughs, I see a little Priya in there. “Sorry I lied,” I say. “I didn’t want anyone to know I was snooping around.”

  “No, no,” he says. “I’m glad you did. I was just confused enough to come back again today. I peeked in and rang the doorbell. The next thing I knew, Ben was staring at me through the window. Suddenly he’s running out from the side of the house way down the block to his car. It seemed awfully strange, so I followed. I tailed him for a few errands and started to wonder if I was being paranoid. But I was sort of committed at that point. I lost him at a light by the entrance to the neighborhood. Drove around for a while . . .” He shrugs. “And then I spotted the Prius.”

  Logan walks into the living room, his phone in hand. “Literally every adult in our lives is driving to Indiana right now. Also, Zan’s mom just texted,” he says, reading something on the screen. “Apparently Anushka and Yasmine are hopping on the first flight to Chicago.”

  Beside me on the couch, Priya lets out a sigh, her eyes wet but fiercely bright. “Thanks for calling everyone, Logan.”

  He nods—“’Course”—and to me, Priya mouths I like him.

  I smile, hit with another rush of emotion. Every time I look at Priya, my heart swells a little. It’s almost like the world has returned to its axis. The ground is solid. I’m solid.

  I’m sure there will be other heartaches—the kind the come out of nowhere, and knock me straight on my ass. I’ve lived enough to know there’s not always a rainbow after the rain, and plenty of things happen for no reason at all. But maybe that’s all the more reason to fucking LIVE LAUGH LOVE! or whatever. Because when you do, once in a while, you find a bright spot. The kind of love that just is. And that’s something I never want to stop believing in.

  Logan joins us on the couch, kissing the top of my head as he sits. A smile spreads across my face. We still have a lot to learn about each other, but something tells me he might be a bright spot, too.

  “I think I need a minute outside,” Priya says, standing. She turns to Julian. “Hey, um, don’t feel like you have to stick around if you’ve got plans.”

  “Priya.” He smirks. “Pretty sure I can clear my schedule tonight.”

  She nods, her face brightening, and I stack a few inspirational pillows to lean back into on the couch.

  I look across the room, to where Priya has stopped at the threshold. She squares her shoulders and takes a breath before slipping out into the night. As I watch her go, relief settles over me, slowly, like a bedsheet floating down from the air. Through the open door, I hear crickets chirping steadily against the stillness. And when I look closely, even in the flashing lights, the fireflies still glow.

  From: Priya Patel

  To: Zan Martini

  Date: Fri, Aug 30, 8:32 am

  Subject: I JOINED A CULT!!!!!!!!

  I didn’t join a cult. But where are you?? You’d think you were in some rural village in the middle of nowhere right now. Oh wait, you are! But no excuses. I was told you would have internet.

  I heard you’re running soccer practices with the girls? And teaching boxing? Maybe we should tweak our name a bit. GRETA: Girls Reaching Equality Through Ass-kicking. I guess that’s kind of GRETAK, but I can run it by the board. I’m still a bit miffed with Anushka and Yasmine for letting you work out there FOR A YEAR. I appreciate you sticking around for the summer, but did you have to leave so early? In my time of need? I’m not sure you’ve fully grasped the irony of my being a high school super senior after all those college courses. For two core classes and a FREAKING GYM CREDIT!!!

  *Deeeep breaths* All in all, I’m being very zen, Zan. Sleeping most nights, though sometimes I recruit Harr for a cuddle. Sean the Shrink seems to think I’m making progress anyway. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the idea of sitting on a couch for a predetermined hour and deliberately talking about the worst parts of my life. I have to fight the urge to make jokes. Sean does not seem to know what to do with my jokes. But a lot of the time it feels really good. Healthy. Maybe even a little brave.

  I’ve kept your room the same. Cleaner, though. I hope that’s okay. Your mom and Whit keep telling me to make my own touches, but I like it the way it is. Makes me think of you. I can tell they’re both missing you, like empty-nesters now. Well, except for me and Harr, and Bee, who Logan’s brought over a few times (she’s really taken to your brother, by the way—you’re going to have to watch that boy).

  I went by the SAIC dorms to visit Logan the other day. He’s seriously going to love it there. He’ll probably tell you this himself when you guys talk, AFTER you talk to me (I am a lady after all, and he a mere matey). You have to make him show you his new stuff. The one of you? There are no words. Speaking of words, have you said it yet? Just spit it out, woman. New Principle! #3-twenty-wherever we left off: Freaking tell people when you love them. It’ll be the final step in the full eradication of your chronic boylessness.

  What else? Harr says your dad has been playing bass again. This week he has a gig. :) And I know he’s getting excited to come visit you. (I’m next!)

  When I’m not busy missing you endlessly, I’ve been occupying my time with college application stuff. I think after this year, I’ll be ready for a clean slate.

  Nick is talking Yale Law after graduation, which would certainly sweeten the deal (at the moment Yale is back to number 1 on my list, but it changes daily). My dad says he’ll visit wherever I go. And Yaz and Anushka are a short train ride from most of the schools I’m applying to, which will be nice—lots of slumber parties in my future.

  Yasmine has been so amazing lately, helping with all the legal stuff. As for Anushka, I’m starting to think this year ha
s kind of popped her whole People Are Mostly Good bubble. But she’ll come around. I know I have. I was going through photos this morning and came across one from when they visited in May for my birthday. You and I took the picture of ourselves—making silly faces with tongues out. But behind us, you can just make out Yaz, Nush, your mom, and Whit all talking in your backyard. Something about that picture made me think of my mom. She would have loved to be there. She would be so glad to know I’ve got these women behind me.

  So, Zans Christian Andersen (am I losing my nickname game?). If you’re still figuring out this whole What Should I Do with My Life thing this time next year, think you could be figuring it out on the East Coast?

  I’ll probably pester you with a few more of these before I log off for the night. But for now, miss you absurd, stupid amounts, O Zanny Boy.

  * * *

  From: Priya Patel

  To: Zan Martini

  Date: Fri, Aug 30, 8:34 am

  Subject: CONSIDERING BUTT IMPLANTS!!!

  Eh? Did that one hook ya? No?

  * * *

  From: Priya Patel

  To: Zan Martini

  Date: Fri, Aug 30, 8:37 am

  Subject: I REALLY COULD COOK METH YOU KNOW!

  I might! You’ll remember, I was very good in AP chem. C’EST POSSIBLE! You don’t know! . . . Anything?

  * * *

  From: Priya Patel

  To: Zan Martini

  Date: Fri, Aug 30, 8:40 am

  Subject: THAT’S IT. I’M DONE WITH BACON!

  Well, that one I’m sure you knew was a lie.

  * * *

  From: Zan Martini

  To: Priya Patel

  Date: Fri, Aug 30, 8:59 am