Chasing Forever

by Kelly Jensen

  Why had it taken him so long to realize that?

  “I came over to talk about before, about how I was being an ass. But we don’t have to talk about that, either.”

  Brian was shaking his head. “Please, Mal. I need to be alone.”

  “Eat your sandwich and I’ll go.”

  “I don’t want the fucking sandwich.”

  “Drink—”

  Brian looked up, his hands falling by the wayside as he uncurled and . . . snarled. “Go. Just go.”

  Mal lurched back in his seat, face stinging as though he’d been slapped. “Listen—”

  “Do you understand what I did?”

  Mal licked his lips. Swallowed. Shook his head. There was an answer here, but he didn’t have it. Not the right one.

  “I broke everything I’ve worked so hard to build. Tore it all down. I’ve worked so hard to get over what she did, what my sister made happen. I’d even convinced myself it was maybe my fault.”

  “Not your fault.”

  “It doesn’t matter, does it? I . . .” Brian scrubbed palms over his face and covered his eyes. “I didn’t want to be that person. This person. God, Mal. Please, can you just . . . I need to—”

  Brian broke off with a quiet sob, which pulled Mal up off the love seat and over to the couch. He sat awkwardly next to Brian and put his arm around Brian’s shoulders, wincing as Brian tensed.

  “I wish you’d go,” Brian said again, his words wet.

  “I can’t.”

  Brian scrubbed at his face again, wicking moisture away from his eyes. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Brian . . .”

  “I’m asking nicely. Please don’t make me angry. I’m not a good person when I’m angry.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Mal, please.”

  Mal stood up. While he searched for something to say, he twitched his sweater into place and plucked at a crease in his pants. He looked down at the top of Brian’s head, a view he hadn’t had very often, and wondered if Brian had always been smaller than him. They were of a similar height, but right now, Brian seemed shrunken. Broken. His hair wasn’t perfect, his eyes were red.

  Leaving would be wrong, on so many levels, but Brian’s need for him to not be here was almost stronger than Mal’s conviction. Leaving wouldn’t be giving in to his awkwardness. It would be . . .

  “No.”

  Brian looked up. Opened his mouth.

  Mal held up a hand. “I’m not walking away. Not this time. You can hate me for staying, but I’d hate myself more for going. You need me here. And if you want to talk about being selfish, I need to be here.”

  Brian tried to talk again and Mal quickly overrode him. “I’m going to leave you alone for a while, okay? Give you some space. I’m going to check on Josh, and then I’m going to head home and feed Lois. Pick up a clean shirt and maybe a bottle of whiskey. But I’m coming back, okay? I am coming back.”

  A soft sound emerged from Brian’s still-parted lips. His expression indicated he wanted to argue, but then he nodded.

  “Right.” Mal backed up stiffly on his sore legs. He made it up the stairs and tapped on Josh’s door. No one answered, but he could hear movement inside. He’d check in again later. When he got back downstairs, Brian was right where he’d left him, sitting on the couch. He didn’t seem to notice Mal passing by the hall.

  Outside the snow had tapered off, but not by much. The wind had simply died, letting the snow drift straight down in wide, fat flakes. A few melted on his cheeks as he poked his way back along the path toward his car, and they felt a little like tears. His throat was too dry to cry, though, and Brian’s pain wasn’t his.

  He’d save his sorrow for when Brian didn’t let him back in.

  Brian ate the sandwich, drank the coffee, and cried over both because he had no idea why he’d wanted Mal to leave. And now that Mal was gone, he wanted nothing more than Mal’s quiet, implacable presence at his side . . . He’d be back, right?

  Swallowing over gathering heartburn—he’d eaten too fast—Brian let his body unfold so that he lay sprawled on the couch. Pain festered along his limbs. The truth always hurt. Would Mal be able to put aside what he’d heard? Could they pretend it was a movie they’d watched together, one they’d silently agreed not to talk about?

  Not likely.

  Sighing, Brian closed his eyes. God, he was tired. But the inside of his lids brought no comfort. He kept seeing Mal’s face. Ellen’s and Josh’s. Kept hearing himself reveal aspects of a story he’d never told anyone. Vanessa hadn’t asked, and Tristan hadn’t had to.

  The world lurched, and Brian gripped the couch cushions, opening his eyes. He looked around the bland space of his living room, the neat and tidy house he lived in but didn’t think of as home. The sandwich pushed back up his throat. Swallowing convulsively, Brian launched himself off the couch and made it to the hall bath in time to lose huge, undigested chunks of bread and meat and cheese.

  Without examining himself in the mirror, he rinsed his mouth and washed his face and hands, then stood facing the towel, watching his hands tremble against the fibers. Shit and shit and shit. He had to pull himself together. Figure out why he felt so sick. Why he was reacting so badly to a truth that had lived inside him for so long. Maybe he really needed the day he’d asked Mal for. The oblivion of sleep. Maybe the world would have righted itself by the morning.

  Brian made for the stairs. He’d have a bath—and not drown himself in it. Then he’d go to bed and watch something mindless until he fell asleep. He’d resist the temptation to drink. He’d think about how not to think. Tomorrow would be a new day. A better day. He’d fix everything tomorrow.

  He paused by Josh’s door and cocked his head to listen for the faint echo of music. Silence, not quite as profound as the space that had stretched between him and Mal downstairs, pushed through the painted wood. Brian knocked. Josh didn’t answer.

  Brian opened the door and knew Josh was gone. The room felt empty, and the quiet of the house was suddenly just as profound as the space between him and Mal. No, worse. With trembling hands, he opened the closet. Josh hadn’t had a lot of clothes and most of them were missing. His school bag was gone, books dumped out on the desk by the window. He’d taken the phone charger from beside the bed.

  Hands still quavering, Brian dug into his pocket for his phone, even as his brain informed him it was downstairs in his coat pocket. He took the stairs two at a time, checking the front door as he passed. Chain slipped. Josh must have gone that way. While Brian was in the bathroom? Or while he’d been sprawled on the couch in a funk?

  Brian yanked the door open and rushed outside, catching himself on the rail at the top of the steps as his shoes slid through three inches of snow. A trail led down the front walk and into the street, turning left toward town. The shallow indents were already filling with fresh snow.

  “Josh!” He couldn’t see anyone at either end of the street, but called out anyway. The falling snow cloaked his voice, making it too soft. Slipping and sliding, Brian ran toward the corner, but saw no one around the bend. He patted his pocket again, swearing, and turned back to the house. He needed his phone. He could call Josh. Text him. Tell him to come back.

  Tracking snow down the hall, Brian pushed through the kitchen and snatched his coat from the back of a stool. He didn’t even remember putting it there, or setting the folio on the island. He found his phone, woke the screen, and dialed. Josh didn’t answer.

  He tapped out a text: Please come home.

  He might not think of his house as any place special, but for Josh, it could be a home.

  After waiting another few minutes for an answer, Brian pulled on his coat and grabbed a hat and scarf from the pegs in the hall. He looked up Mal’s number and stared at his phone. Mal would answer, wouldn’t he?

  Of course he will!

  Mal answered with a cautious “Hey.”

  “Do you have Ethan’s number?”

  “What?”r />
  “Josh is gone. He packed a bag. I don’t know where he is.”

  “But I just checked on him. Are you sure?”

  “His room is empty and his backpack is gone. He took his phone.”

  “Jesus. Hang on.” After much rustling and cursing, Mal returned to the line. “I’ll text it to you. Listen, I know Ethan’s mom. I’ll call her now, maybe head over there.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Yes, I do. Think about Josh, Brian. Nothing but Josh. We’ll find him and we’ll bring him home.”

  “Okay.”

  Brian ended the call and checked the text, tapped the number on his screen, and sent a quick note to Ethan, then followed it up with a call. Ethan didn’t pick up and the text remained unread. Fucking kids. Weren’t they all supposed to be glued to their phones?

  Tucking his phone away, Brian slammed through the front door and out into the snow. He turned right instead of left, instinct drawing him toward the place he’d found Josh the first time he’d run away. Briefly, he thought about going back for his car, but with the snow still falling, he was probably safer on foot. Besides, Josh was on foot, meaning he could only go so far—unless the trains were running on schedule.

  Brian picked up the pace, jogging toward the end of the street, ducking across Morris, and cutting through the parking lot outside the station. It was after six, already dark, and commuters were pouring into the lot. Brian hadn’t even registered the hum and shriek of a train on the line. Thankfully, it was headed west. He dodged one car, then another, before reaching the sidewalk, and had to push against the tide of humanity until he broke through to the platform.

  He checked the commuter lounge first, scanning the almost familiar benches for a bright shock of blue hair. A figure with a hoodie hunched in the far corner, looking down at a phone.

  Words of anger and recrimination both tore at Brian’s tongue as he yanked the hood backward to reveal a young woman with black hair and dark-brown eyes. No piercings, just a scowl.

  “Hey!” She leaned back, away from him, holding her phone up in front of her face as if it were a shield.

  Brian stepped away, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

  “Well, I’m not.”

  “Have you seen a boy with blue hair?”

  “What are you on?”

  “My nephew, he’s missing. Has blue hair. Piercings. High school student.”

  Mouth hanging open, she shook her head.

  “Okay, sorry.”

  Brian checked the men’s room and then returned to the woman. “Can you check the ladies’ room for me? Please?”

  She gave him an incredulous look. Brian pulled out his wallet and she waved him away.

  “I don’t want your money. Wait here.”

  She emerged from the ladies’ room a minute later, shaking her head. “Not there, sorry.”

  The stationmaster announced the arrival of the next train, bound for New York, Penn Station. Brian followed the woman trackside and scanned up and down. The platform was nearly deserted, and if the snow kept up like this, the trains wouldn’t be running for much longer.

  The train slowed to a halt and the doors swished open. Nearly howling with frustration, Brian strode to the far end, peering through the train windows, checking every shadow, calling for Josh. A part of him felt as though his nephew was on the train, somehow, some way. Another part of him mocked. Told him he was chasing a loose end.

  Yet another part of him wanted to sink onto the platform and let the snow cover him.

  A garbled announcement urged passengers to stand clear, and the doors banged shut.

  Brian stood there and watched the train as it rushed past him, certain he should be on it, every passing door hissing out the worst kind of failure, the silver-lined windows surely carrying his nephew away from him forever.

  “I haven’t seen Josh since the weekend,” Ethan’s mother said. “I think he and Ethan had a falling out of sorts.”

  “Can I talk to Ethan? Ask if he’s heard from Josh?” Mal asked. Quiet rolled over the line. Mal checked his phone to see if he’d lost the call, then put it back to his ear. “Are you there?”

  “Ethan is with his girlfriend tonight.”

  “Oh.”

  “His ex-girlfriend. They’re not together anymore, but—”

  “It’s a confusing age. Even more so when you’ve got so much to figure out.”

  “You’re telling me. Listen, I’m sorry I haven’t been at any of the GSA meetings. I should have called. But I got the idea if I was there, Ethan might be uncomfortable. I support him, but I don’t want to stifle him.”

  “I understand.”

  “Let me know when you catch up with Josh, okay? He’s a good kid.”

  “I will. And if you hear from Ethan—”

  “Of course. Do you have his number?”

  “I do. I already texted him, but didn’t get an answer.”

  “Keep trying.”

  Mal hung up and put the phone to his forehead. Think. If I was Josh and my mom came to get me and my uncle shared a harrowing story, where would I go?

  If his mind could produce a series of dots to indicate a complete lack of answer, it would.

  Waking the phone again, Mal dialed the one person who had always been there for him. A bitter feeling lodged in his gut as the call went through. Not guilt. Luck and love had given him a brother like no other, and a family who accepted him. It wasn’t his fault that Brian and Josh did not have the same.

  But still.

  “What’s up?” Donny answered.

  “Brian’s nephew is missing. He might have run away. Stuff happened. His mom came to get him, and, Jesus, what a—” Do not call someone you barely know a bitch. “It wasn’t good. I only caught the tail end of things, but let’s just say Josh going home is probably not an option. So he took off, and I don’t know what to do. Brian’s out there searching and I want to help.”

  “Okay. Okay.” Donny’s exhale fuzzed across the line. “Who does Josh know around here? Who are his friends?”

  “He’s close to one of the boys in the GSA. I called there. Mom says he’s out. He’s not answering texts.”

  “Keep texting. Kids are never far from their phones. Is there a place they hang out?”

  “My classroom, after school.”

  “Can they get into the school after dark?”

  “No. If it was a Friday, there might be a game. Every other day, the school is pretty much dead after the last activity bus leaves.”

  “What about the Colonial?”

  “They’re teenagers. Leo wouldn’t serve—”

  “No, I mean upstairs. It’s empty up there, isn’t it? And that’s where you’re planning to put the center?”

  A sick feeling settled across Mal’s gut. Not anymore, he wanted to say. Instead, he forced out a less than enthusiastic, “Good thinking. I’ll head over there now.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  “You don’t have to come out.”

  “Damn right I do. Can’t have Josh wandering around lost or thinking he’s lost. Me and Brian might not get along. He’s— I don’t know. But whatever it was I saw in him, whatever he’s hiding, I don’t think it’s as important as what he’s doing for the kids. The school, the town. For you. Fuck, I sound like a damn Hallmark card.”

  The urge to tell Donny he’d been right, that Brian had had a secret, pulled at Mal. He opened his mouth and closed it. Not his story to tell . . . and even if it was, even if he had the feeling Brian wouldn’t mind what he shared—which he most definitely did not—some things were better left alone.

  Telling Donny that Brian had been homeless for nearly two years, had been used and abused, might lend credence to the goodness that obviously charged all Brian did for the community, whether he owned up to it or not. But if Brian wanted to play that card, he would have. He was a businessman and he was very careful with his professional reputati
on.

  “You still there?” Donny asked.

  Mal swallowed. “Right now, the most important thing to Brian is finding Josh.”

  “Then let’s do it.”

  Donny insisted on picking him up and Mal didn’t argue. Two of them in the car meant one could drive while the other kept a lookout—not that there was much to see through the curtain of falling snow.

  “How many inches are we supposed to get?” Mal asked, eyeing the four already piled up on the ground.

  “Six to ten, so we’re maybe halfway done?”

  “Not a good night to be out.”

  Answering with a distracted hum, Donny pulled into the small lot behind the Colonial and killed the engine. “Why don’t you head inside, ask Leo if he’s seen anyone with blue hair skulking around, and I’ll check the back of the building?”

  “Right.”

  Mal made his way toward the front of the bar, pushing through the snow with little effort. Tonight it would settle and become harder and more brittle. Walking through it would be more difficult.

  Was there a metaphor in there?

  He ducked inside, brushing flakes from his shoulders, and nearly bumped into Leo.

  “What are you doing here?” Leo asked. “I’m about to close.”

  Mal gaped for a second, torn between telling Leo about the meeting, and stating his real purpose. Josh won out. “Looking for Josh.”

  “Who?”

  “Brian’s nephew. Blue hair?”

  “Haven’t seen him. What’s up?”

  “Have you got keys for the upstairs?”

  “No.”

  “Donny’s checking around the back.”

  Leo’s forehead wrinkled. “Why is everyone looking for Brian’s nephew?”

  “Because he might not be in a good place right now. Did you know his mom kicked him out? That Brian’s been taking care of him?”

  “I did hear something about that. And he’s missing?”