by Mina Bennett
As usual, there was no answer.
***
My bag was halfway packed by the time I even realized what I was doing.
As a kid, I'd done this many times. I'd spent hours lying in bed, fantasizing about how I'd do it. How I'd run away. I would stuff a backpack with Clif bars and water bottles and all the cash from my piggy bank, figuring out how I'd sleep under the stars, where I would go after that. But I could never go through with it.
Now, things were different.
I was a grown up. I could leave home if I wanted to. I could go anywhere in the entire world, start a new life. Never come back to Hobb's Vale. I could pretend all of this, Mark, everything, had never happened.
I paused with a sweater in my hand. Under normal circumstances, this was the point at which the sensible part of my brain would kick in. No, you can't, it's silly. Don't try to run from your problems. You've never even had a job. Your cell phone is on your parents' plan. What are you going to do? Where are you going to go?
But it rang hollow. None of it sounded sensible to me right now. I felt feverish, but terribly clear-headed at the same time, my heart pounding in my ears and only one thing echoing in my mind:
Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Go.
Get out.
Go.
Get out.
This is your chance.
I knew it was right. This was the only time my desire to run away would be stronger than all the feelings, good and bad, that held me here.
Jacob.
I couldn't face him again. This way, I'd never have to.
George wandered over, sniffing curiously at my bag. I felt a twinge in my heart, but I knew there was no way I could take care of him in my new life. Staying with my parents, at least he'd be happy and well-fed.
He sat and looked at my curiously. Tears trickled down my face, but I looked away.
I finished packing and shoved the bag under my bed. Once the house was calm, I would leave. I had plenty of experience sneaking around the house in the night, whenever I couldn't sleep, just slipping through the darkness for no particular reason at all. I knew I could get out the front door without waking anyone.
Sitting there cross-legged on the floor, my mind ran over everything that had happened over the past year. The day I met Mark, I couldn't even remember what I was wearing. What I'd been thinking when I woke up in the morning. Of course I didn't remember. Back then, I didn't realize. I had no idea what was about to happen.
There were a thousand little moments when I could have turned back. I could have stopped it. Changed everything. When he wanted to court me. When he proposed. When he asked me to take off my shirt.
When he photographed me.
The day of our wedding, when I'd woken up feeling sick to my stomach for reasons which were now painfully clear, I could have done it. I could have been a runaway bride, in the news, someday taking a book deal to write about my life in ten years once I'd settled in a new city and found a new boyfriend, who didn't know about my past.
But I'd run out all my chances already, and now I was paying the price for trusting him. For shutting my eyes, for biting my tongue, one too many times.
But not anymore.
Jacob would be hurt, but eventually he'd learn to forget me. He'd do much better, if not with Lily than with someone else. Someone undamaged, without scars, someone who wouldn't be a dark cloud over his life. I liked to imagine him with someone pretty who made him laugh, who would ride alongside him down mountain trails on the bike he'd picked out for her, that he'd fix for her when the chain started to go rusty.
Someone who'd make him happy.
Someone I could never, ever be.
Hot tears gathered in my eyes and started sliding down my cheeks, one by one, at first, and then in cascades. The dark pit of hopelessness that had been slowly growing inside of me for months, years, my whole life, gnawing away at my insides - was taking over.
It was eating me alive, and the only way to deal with the pain was to feel nothing at all.
There was some corner of my brain that still had a tiny bit of clarity left, and it was telling me that running away would solve nothing. I wasn't sure if that was true or not. I wanted to believe it, because staying would be the easy choice. But inside, the roaring emptiness was eating every part of me - even the parts that cared about other people. That loved my family. That loved Jacob. I hated the way I felt, the blank spots where my emotions should be. But even the hate was slowly being eaten up, leaving nothing.
So in a way, the shadow that walked down the stairs in my house at two o'clock in the morning, a bag slung over its shoulder, wasn't me. I felt like I was inhabiting its physical presence, like in a dream, but it wasn't me. The person I'd once been was gone, long gone, lying dead on the polished wood floor in Mark's house. There was no use in trying to recover that girl.
She was never coming back, no matter where my shadow went.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Jacob
Thankfully, I didn't have to work for a few days, so I was sleeping in. Until my phone rang, once again, jarring me out of sleep. I had to blink a few times before I recognized the number - Marissa's house.
I answered it with my heart pounding.
"Jacob." The voice sounded tired and strained. "It's Mrs. Moore. Have you seen Marissa?"
I shook my head, before I remembered that she couldn't see me. I cleared my throat. "No," I said. "No, ma'am. Why?"
Because she went back to Mark, just like you knew she would.
"I can't get in touch with her." Mrs. Moore let out a shaky breath. "George is...her cat, Georgie. He's very - he's very sick. I'm at the vet's right now. We don't know..." She stopped for a moment. "I just, I know she'd want to be here. But I keep calling, but it just rings and rings. Mark's not picking up either. I don't know where she is. I thought maybe..."
I was instantly awake. My stomach churned. Not George. Not now. I knew how much that little ball of fur meant to Marissa.
"Is he..." I couldn't bring myself to say it.
"We don't know," said Mrs. Moore. "We don't know anything yet. But it doesn't, it doesn't look good."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Moore," I said. "I wish I could tell you where she was. But she won't talk to me either."
"I was afraid of that. Just - call me, call me back at this number if you hear anything. Or think of anything. Or...anything at all."
"I will."
With shaking fingers, I tried Marissa's cell, but I know it was useless. She wouldn't pick up for me, not now. Not after what we'd done, and the things she'd said.
My heart was racing as I threw on some clothes and ran down the stairs. I knew what I had to do. On any other day, at any other time, I would have rather thrown my own bike over a cliff. Or broken it in half with my own bare hands. Or anything, really, other than getting on that same bike and pedaling, pedaling as fast as I could go, towards the one person in the world I never wanted to see again.
I had no choice. After what she'd said, I was sure - I was positive - that she'd gone back to him. Maybe he'd continued to threaten her. Maybe he'd convinced her that he wasn't such a bad guy after all. I had no idea, but something told me that if I wanted to find her, I'd have to find Mark first.
His school was about fifteen miles away, and mostly uphill. It wasn't a route I would have biked if I had a choice, but my parents had the car and I certainly wasn't going to try and explain this situation to Marissa's mother. I had to go there myself, and no matter how horrible and awkward it was, I had to tell her what was happening. I had to tell her to come home.
The farther I rode, the more I started to question my own sanity. Why couldn't I have done...well, anything else? What did I really think was going to happen? This was the worst possible way to try and get through to her. I was going to come across as a crazy stalker.
This wasn't my place. I had no reason to interfere. In spite of the ugliness, in spite of everything Mark had said and done to her, she was still his
wife. He might have told her that it was over, but did he mean it? Would he hold firm if she came back to him, apologizing? Groveling?
I couldn't think like that. I was just here to pass on a message. Whatever Marissa did after that was up to her.
By the time I saw the university's bell tower looming in the distance, I deeply regretted my decision. But there was no turning back now.
Coasting through the paths and courtyard, I realized that I had no idea where to find Mark. It wasn't a large campus, but I still felt like I was searching for a needle in a haystack. Students were everywhere, and not a single one of them looked familiar to me. I knew Mark had occasionally brought some friends to visit Eternal Grace, so my only hope was seeing a face that I vaguely recognized. And then what - just walk up and start grilling them as to his whereabouts? Yeah, that wouldn't be awkward at all.
"Jacob?"
I squealed to a stop and whipped my head around.
Brandon was looking at me like I'd lost my mind. And really, being honest with myself, I kind of had.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded, dismounting.
"Uh, I could ask you the same question, sweaty." Brandon wrinkled his nose. "Did you ride all the way from...oh my gosh, you did, didn't you?" His eyes were wide, and he was grinning in disbelief. "Holy...okay, no, you tell your story first."
"I...look, it's complicated, but I need to talk to Mark. It's urgent."
"They have these new things now," Brandon said, gesturing me to follow him as he headed towards one of the paths. "They're called phones."
"He's not picking up," I said. "Apparently. And he certainly wouldn't pick up for me."
"Okkaaaay," said Brandon, slowly. "We'll unpack all that later. I'm here because I'm visiting. You know. As a potential student. Like a normal person. Your turn."
"It's Marissa," I said. "It's...bad things. I can't talk about it, really. I swear. I'd love to tell you, but I don't think she'd want anyone else to know. The point is, I need to talk to Mark because I need to find her, and this is the only way."
"I'd like to return to my previous thesis," said Brandon. "Phones."
"She's not going to pick up for me, either."
Brandon stared at me. "What did you do?"
"Nothing," I said. "Well - not nothing. I did something bad. But not as bad as..." I shook my head. "No. No. I really can't - I don't want to get into it right now. But I need to see Mark. I need to find him."
"I don't know if I want to be a party to this," said Brandon, but he kept walking. "If Mark's on campus you'll find him here. He might be in class, though."
"I can wait."
"Pretty much all of the advanced coursework goes on in this building."
I looked around; there were folding tables and chairs set up all over the courtyard, with "WELCOME FUTURE STUDENTS" banners, and...were they handing out pizza?
"Oh, awesome," said Brandon. "There's the pizza they promised. Hang on." He trotted over, grabbed a few slices, and hurried back, chewing as he went. "It's visitor's week," he said, through a mouthful of cheese and crust. "So they're really rolling out the red carpet. I bet if you ask anyone sitting behind one of those tables, they'll probably know where Mark is right now. He's pretty much friends with everybody here."
I decided to take his advice - I didn't really know what else to do. There was a guy who looked to be about Mark's age, handing out pamphlets, and he didn't seem too busy. I walked up to him.
"Hi," I said.
"Welcome!" he exclaimed, grinning. "Beautiful day, huh?"
"Sure is," I replied. "Listen, this might be a long shot, but do you know Mark Allan?"
"Oh, sure," he said. "Of course I know Mark. I think it would be hard to find someone around here who doesn't."
"I'm from Eternal Grace," I said. "Got to know him through the youth group there. He told me I should stop by this week and he'd give me a personal tour, but he's not answering his phone. I'm guessing he's probably in class, but I don't even know where to go look for him."
"Oh, gotcha. Sure." He considered it for a moment. "Well off the top of my head, but I know he volunteered to help run this booth, so I doubt he's got anything else scheduled. They ended up picking me instead. But I know this - if he's got free time, he usually spends it with the younger students, over at the other side of campus. There's a common room at the dorms. Just take a straight diagonal across the courtyard, until you see the building that looks like a cathedral. The towers next to it are the dorms, and if you walk straight in through the main doors, the common room will be on your left, next to the staircase."
"Thank you," I said, fervently, hopping on my bike and drifting over to Brandon. "I'm going to go find him," I said. "Enjoy your pizza. I promise someday I'll explain what's going on."
"Sure," said Brandon. "Whatever you're doing, don't act like an idiot, okay?"
"I think it might be a little too late for that."
When I got to my destination, I fastened my bike to one of the stands and took off my helmet. I ran my fingers through my hair, took a deep breath, and walked inside.
The common room was massive. My eyes darted over the sea of faces, many of whom looked as lost and overwhelmed as I was. Visitors, then. Though most of them probably weren't here for nearly as dramatic of a reason.
I edged my way into the room, doing my best to stay unnoticed. But after a while, it became obvious Mark wasn't here.
Defeated, I sat down at one of the few empty tables and tried to figure out what my next move was. I had no idea, and I had no time to waste.
"Hey there, you visiting?"
A very cheerful student, about my age, was looking at me.
"Yeah," I said. "Actually, I'm looking for someone I'm supposed to meet. Mark Allan?"
"Oh, Mark!" He nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, yeah, I know him. He's probably with Chrissy."
"Chrissy," I repeated.
"Yeah," said the student, gesturing for me to come along with him. "You know, his girlfriend."
I stopped dead in my tracks.
After a few moments, the student seemed to notice that I wasn't following behind him, and he stopped and turned. "You okay? Come on, I bet they're in her room."
"I don't want to bother him," I said.
"Don't be silly, come on."
My heart felt like a clenched fist in my chest. As I followed the student up the stairs, my feet felt like they were encased in concrete.
We walked down a hallway of numbered doors, until the student stopped at one of them, raised his fist, and pounded.
"Sorry," he said, smiling sheepishly. "They're thick, you have to hit 'em hard or nobody can hear you."
"It's fine," I assured him. A few moments passed with no response. "Maybe I should just go," I said, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.
"No, no, I'm sure he'll be glad to see you!" He pounded on the door again, even harder this time.
"Just a minute!" came Mark's voice from inside, sounding slightly panicked.
Finally, the door swung open. He was half-dressed, his shirt unbuttoned, and there was a girl sitting on the edge of the bed with badly mussed hair.
"Jacob?" Mark stared at me. "What are you doing here?"
The student stepped back, slowly, finally turning and walking down the hallway at a good clip.
"Really?" I said. "Marissa's cat is sick. I'm trying to find her, her parents don't know where she is. I thought she might be here with you." I glanced at the girl. "But I guess not, huh?"
Mark's mouth was a thin line. "This is none of your business," he said. "And I don't know where she is."
"Marissa?" Chrissy said, her eyes growing wide, then narrowing. "Who's Marissa?"
I felt bad for her, but it was better that she find out now.
"His wife," I said. "I'm sorry." I looked at Mark again. "If she calls, would you send her home please?"
"She won't call me," he said. "She'll never call me again."
"And neither will I!" Chrissy snarl
ed, grabbing a purse and jacket off the floor and shoving past both of us, storming down the hallway.
"That was pretty self-aware, for you," I said, as Mark stood there with a completely unreadable expression on his face. "I'm impressed."
He slammed the door in my face.
As I walked away, I noticed Chrissy slumped on the floor against the wall, further down, crying.
"Hey," I said, hesitating as I passed. "I'm really sorry."
She sniffed. "It's not your fault," she said.
"I know," I said. "But I'm sorry anyway."
***
I hated to call Mrs. Moore with no news, but I thought I should at least let her know that I was trying. She answered the phone with a pang of hope in her voice that made my heart twist.
"Mrs. Moore, it's Jacob. I don't have any news yet. I'm sorry. But I'm trying."
She let out a massive sigh. "That's...thank you, Jacob. I really appreciate it."
"I was able to get ahold of Mark. He doesn't know where she is."
Mrs. Moore breathed in, sharply. "He doesn't know anything?"
"Well, that's what he said."
"But she...she packed bags. She has to be...she must be planning on going somewhere."
Suddenly, a memory came back to me, as clear and sharp as if it had happened yesterday.
"Did you check the bus station?" I asked.
"Of course," she said. "That's the first place we looked."
I was remembering that day in my garage, when I'd fixed her bike chain. When she'd told me exactly how she would run away.
"Mrs. Moore, I have to go. I'm sorry. But I will let you know as soon as I hear anything, all right?"
"Thank you, Jacob."
I ran back to my bike, jumped on it, and started riding straight back to Hobb's Vale.
Pedaling fiercely, I zoomed through red lights at busy intersections, ignoring the honks and dodging wayward cars. I wasn't sure how much time I had, but I knew that if I got to the bus station before she did, I'd at least have a chance to talk to her. It was a crazy hunch, and I didn't want to give her parents the false hope - I'd go there and I'd wait for her myself.
