But I wasn’t going to find any respite at home, either, because both Jill and Austin were there, sitting on the couch, drinking wine and making quick work of a tub of hummus and pita chips.
“Join us!” Austin said. “Want some wine? How’d it go today?”
“The festival?” I asked, sitting down and accepting a glass of wine from Jill. They’d had the third glass at the ready, and I realized that they were sitting there, waiting for me to get home.
“Um, no, not the festival. Telling Drew. What happened? How’d he take it? What details did he give you about the whole thing?”
I paused. Maybe it would’ve been better to stay over at Laurel’s; at least no one there had any idea about the damn journal. I took a sip of my wine before answering.
“I couldn’t do it.”
“Holy shit—what is wrong with you?”
Austin’s jaw dropped and then he and Jill exchanged glances, clearly disappointed. How was I supposed to explain it to them? It was just one of those things that they had to be there for; they wouldn’t understand otherwise.
“I don’t get it,” Austin continued. “Why not? Did you think he wouldn’t take it well? This is getting a little ridiculous, isn’t it? Girl, how many times have you decided that you were going to talk to him and tell him what you need to, but then you chicken out?”
“I don’t know what I thought,” I said. “I just know that when I went over to him, I suddenly couldn’t say anything. It’s just... it’s not the sort of thing that you would bring up in casual conversation.”
“But this isn’t a casual conversation,” Austin said. “This is something that could be really important. Life-changing.”
“It could also be nothing,” Jill said. “Or, it could be something totally traumatizing, reopening old wounds and stuff.”
I sighed. “You guys are like the angel and the devil on either side of me. You’re not making this any easier.”
“It’s not an easy position to be in. But we’re not trying to make it harder on you.” Jill gave me an encouraging smile. “What is it that you think you should do? You’ve almost talked to him about it a couple of times now, but something has stopped you. Why is that?”
“I have no clue.” And it wasn’t like me, not to be able to just go up to someone and say something. I had never been the sort of person who allowed herself to be intimidated in any sort of situation, although it would seem as if that was exactly what was happening. Jill was right—why? I really didn’t know, though. And if this journal contained something that might help someone, then I wanted to do the right thing.
Austin reached over and poured me some more wine. “You want to know what I think it is?” he said.
“Not really, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”
“I think you like him. I think you have feelings for him.”
“Feelings for him? I don’t even know this person.”
Austin waved a hand dismissively. “That doesn’t matter. Did I know Hank? Did I know Jesse?”
“Do you mean biblically?” Jill piped up.
Austin ignored her. “I didn’t know either of them, and plenty of people before—and likely after—them, but that doesn’t matter. Because sometimes you just get a feeling with someone, and you act on it, before you know when their birthday is, or what their favorite color is, or whether or not they’ve watched the newest season of Queer Eye.”
“I highly doubt Drew watches Queer Eye.”
“See? That tells me everything I need to know right there. You like him.”
“How the hell are you able to draw that conclusion based on the fact that I said I didn’t think he’d watch a certain show?”
“What that tells me is that you’ve been thinking about him, which is not something you seem to want to admit to us. And why would you be thinking about him unless you liked him?”
“Oh, I don’t know—maybe because I have this journal with his name on the inside of it? I think that’s reasonable.”
“I’d agree with you there,” Austin said, “except for the fact that you haven’t mentioned anything to him about it. And it’s not like you haven’t had plenty of opportunities. Soooo... this is all just adding up to make it appear that you have feelings for him.”
“Which is totally fine,” Jill added quickly. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Gwen. I mean, you’re a total catch.”
“You are a complete babe,” Austin said. “If I were straight, I’d be all over that.”
“Shut up,” I said. I downed the rest of my wine in three big gulps. “There’s no way in hell I have feelings for him, because I don’t know him. And I am definitely the sort of person who needs to know someone—even just a little bit—before I can have feelings for him.” I set my glass down, feeling my cheeks flush from the alcohol. “I’ll call tomorrow. First thing. I’ll make an appointment, I’ll go down to his office, and I will give him the journal. I won’t even have to say anything if I don’t want to—I’ll just give it to him.”
“Oh, my God.” Austin rolled his eyes. “Could you be anymore anticlimactic than that? You’re just going to go in there and give him the journal and not say anything and leave? That’s a little cray, if you want my opinion.”
“I think it’s just good that she’s going to give it to him.” Jill reached over and patted my forearm. “You’ll feel better,” she said. “Once you don’t have this journal in your possession anymore, you’ll feel a whole lot better. Trust me.”
I smiled and took a little more of the wine that Austin was offering. I hoped she was right.
***
I slept late the next morning, and didn’t even hear Jill or Austin get up and leave the apartment. So when I finally emerged, everything was blessedly quiet. I had some coffee and then took a deep breath and made the phone call.
“Good morning, Parker Security Services. This is Cole speaking. How are you doing today?”
My throat felt unbearably dry, like I had just swallowed a sheet of sandpaper. But I coughed, then forced myself to speak.
“Hi,” I said. “Um... my name is Gwen Lillie. I was wondering if Drew was available?”
“Oh, hey, Gwen,” this Cole person said, in such a way that made it seem as if we were friends. “He’s on a call right now, but I’ll have him get back to you when he’s done. Or I might be able to help you. What’s going on?”
“I... I really need to speak to Drew. In person, ideally.”
“You want to set up an appointment?”
Now it was sounding ridiculously official. But maybe that was the only way this could happen—if I had an appointment. I was always good about keeping my appointments, so it actually didn’t seem like that bad of an idea.
“It doesn’t need to be for long,” I said. “There’s just... there’s something I need to speak to him about. Briefly. Very briefly.”
“Okay. Hold on one sec. Let me just pull up his calendar.” I could hear some shuffling going on in the background. “Hello? You still there?”
“Still here.”
“Let’s see... It looks like he’s got some time for an appointment on Wednesday or Thursday of this week.”
That was two or three days from now. Of course it was foolish of me to think that he’d be able to see me right away, but I wanted the appointment to be as soon as possible, because now that I’d made my mind up to do it, I just wanted to get it over with.
“Or Friday,” Cole continued, “or next week sometime if that doesn’t work for you...”
“Do you have anything sooner?”
“Sooner? Well, I... hold on one more sec.”
There was a clanking sound, like he put the phone down on the desk, and then I could hear talking, though from a distance. I heard Cole say my name, and then someone reply, though I couldn’t quite make out what they said. There was a little more rustling and then Cole came back on the line.
“Gwen? Looks like it’s your lucky day. Are you free now? Drew just happen
ed to be walking by and he overheard me talking with you and asked who it was, and when he heard it was you he said to schedule you an appointment whenever you want. Is now a good time?”
I gulped and nodded, then realized that I was on the phone and he couldn’t see any gesture I made. “Yes,” I said. “I’ll be there soon. Wait—where am I going?”
He laughed, and then gave me the address, which was downtown. I thanked him and got off the phone, feeling a strange surge of elation. There. I’d done it. I’d made the phone call and the world had not ended. It really wasn’t that bad. I sent a quick group text to Austin and Jill, informing them of my small victory, and that I was heading downtown to deliver the journal. And then, this whole thing would be over and I would wonder why I had been making such a big deal about this journal to begin with.
***
It hadn’t occurred to me that it might be weird to be doing this at Drew’s work. I hadn’t expected there to be other people there, which was stupid because I’d talked to one of Drew’s co-workers on the phone not that long ago. There were a few people there, in their own offices, with the doors open. They gave me a curious look but that was the extent of it.
“Gwen.”
I turned when I heard his voice. Today he was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved black cotton shirt with the company logo printed right above his heart.
“Hi,” I said. “Thank you for meeting with me so quickly.”
“Follow me.”
I followed him down a hallway to the office at the end, pulse thrumming in my ears. Why did I feel so nervous? My palms were sweating and my heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest. I took a deep breath. He held the door open for me and then closed it behind us, and for that I was grateful, because at least there wouldn’t be an audience when I told him what I had.
“Have a seat.”
I sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk, as he took a seat in the big leather executive chair behind the desk. The office was large, his desk was large, and even the chair I was sitting in felt large, making me feel like I was a child again, in trouble at the principal’s office.
“So,” Drew said, “what brings you in today? I must say, I was surprised when Cole told me that it was you on the phone.”
I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out. His gaze remained firmly locked on me, and for several excruciating seconds, no one said anything. The air thickened around us. What the hell was I doing? But it was too late to go back now; short of running out of the office, there was nothing I could do but go through with it. There were no words, though. He blinked, still looking at me. There was nothing I could preface this with.
So I took the journal out and placed it on the desk in front of him.
Chapter 7
Drew
What the hell was this?
My spine felt shot through with ice as I looked at the purple journal Gwen had just put on my desk. It was as if my body knew before my brain had time to catch up; goosebumps prickled my forearms, that coldness down my back, my intestines twisting uncomfortably.
I knew exactly what this was.
But I didn’t want to believe it.
I reached out and slid the journal closer. I pressed my lips together and took a deep breath, aware the whole time of Gwen’s presence, of her sitting there, watching me. Was she afraid? She certainly didn’t feel comfortable. I started to open the cover but then stopped. I looked at her.
“Where did you find this?”
“You... you know whose it is?”
I pulled my hand from the journal and leaned back in my chair. My heart galloped in my chest, but not in a good way, not in an exhilarated, excited way, but more like an anxiety-choked, I-think-I’m-about-to-have-a-heart-attack way.
“Yes,” I said. “I do know who this belongs to. Why do you have it?”
“My uncle had it. He died, though, so I went back to help my aunt clear out the house. I haven’t seen that side of my family in a really long time, but when I went into my uncle’s room, I found that...”
She continued to talk, but it was like I was underwater and couldn’t hear a thing.
My throat felt completely dry yet my mouth seemed to be overflowing with saliva. I couldn’t swallow it fast enough; I was about to throw up.
“You need to go,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. Gwen didn’t move, but only looked at me with wide, scared eyes.
“I said, you need to go!” I managed to raise my voice, almost to a yell, and there was a sharp, urgent edge that she might have taken as anger. Which it wasn’t, but she scrambled out of her seat so quickly the chair tipped over. She straightened it and then bolted, not saying another word.
I grabbed my trashcan and puked. And then I continued to dry-heave for close to a minute. My stomach was empty, there was nothing left to come up, but my body couldn’t seem to accept that and continued to spasm.
There was a knock on the door, which was ajar.
“Drew?” Cole asked. “Everything okay?”
“It’s fine! Just shut the door. I’ll be out in a minute.”
The door shut. I sat up slowly, already feeling the ache in my stomach muscles. I grabbed the water bottle off my desk and took a long sip. What the actual fuck. The purple journal sat there on my desk, innocently, as if it were not one of the last things in the world I ever expected to see again.
I sat in my chair, head leaned back, eyes closed, for several minutes. When I reopened my eyes and lifted my head, the journal was still there. I felt more normal, at least. I opened the book, randomly, to some place in the middle, and there was her handwriting. And seeing the familiarity of it was almost like seeing her face again.
I turned to the front page and saw my name, written in black Sharpie, along with Parker Security’s phone number.
Joshua.
That must’ve been Gwen’s uncle.
What the hell was this guy doing with my sister’s journal?
But before I could really think about it, there was another knock at the door, and then Jason was stepping in, pushing the door shut behind him. He had a worried look on his face.
“Drew,” he said, “what’s going on? Are you all right?”
If it had been anyone else, I would’ve had to say something, to explain myself somehow. But because it was Jason, and because we were connected—his brother had been dating my sister when she disappeared—all I had to do was push the journal toward him. I watched as he opened it, as his eyes scanned the first few sentences. His eyebrows jumped and he looked up at me, his mouth open.
“Wait,” he said. “This is... Ashleigh’s?”
I nodded. “It is. And the girl who brought it in said she found it with her uncle’s stuff.”
“Holy shit.”
Neither of us said anything for a minute—what the fuck could we say? Other than it was stirring up shit from the past, shit that Jason probably hadn’t thought about for a long time now. I did think about it, perhaps less now than I had years ago, but I always knew that I was going to find answers about Ashleigh. One day. I didn’t know when that day was going to be, but I knew that it would happen, eventually.
And it looked like eventually had arrived.
“So... what are you going to do?” Jason said finally. He ran a hand through his hair and eyed the journal. While the situation was similar for us, it was also different: his brother was dead. He had that closure that I never did, that my family never got. The Parkers were never in possession of one of those unshakable family bonds—we didn’t have big, extended family parties, or attend reunions, or even send each other Christmas cards. I barely spoke to my parents anymore, who had divorced not long after Ashleigh disappeared, though I don’t think that was the cause of their divorce, just the impetus.
“I don’t know,” I said. I had always thought that if some sort of clue presented itself to me, I would know exactly what to do, but that didn’t seem to be the case. “I don’t know.”
*
**
I spent the rest of the day holed up in the office, reading my sister’s journal. Someone’s name had been redacted, and despite my very best efforts, there was no way I was going to be able to figure out whose it was. But there was plenty about Jason’s brother, Ryan, though it sounded more like they were friends and less like they were romantically involved. Midway through, I read this:
Brandon and I hung out with Ryan and Zeke last night. We drove down to Santa Cruz and went to the boardwalk, rode the roller coaster, which was a lot of fun. Brandon went on it even though he’s not that into rides like that, but he knew I wanted to go and he wanted to do it with me. Ryan and Zeke seem really in tune with each other, and I don’t get the feeling that Zeke will fuck Ryan over like so many other guys have in the past. Ryan is so sweet; he deserves a man who loves him the way Brandon does me.
Those fucking black marks were pissing me off. Who the fuck was Brandon? I wanted nothing more than to take my fingernail, or a knife, or a fucking letter opener, and scrape that Brandon right off and reveal whatever was underneath. Who had redacted it? Ashleigh? But why would she do that? Then again, why the hell would someone else do it either? All those little black boxes littering the pages seemed to taunt me, knew that there was nothing I could do about it. It was infuriating. And what the fuck was this about Ryan deserving a man who would love him the way Brandon loved Ashleigh? Weren’t Ashleigh and Ryan a couple?
It was all so long ago. It had been more than twenty years since I’d last seen my sister. After she disappeared, Ryan had committed suicide, so it wasn’t like I could go talk to him about any of this. But as I dug through the labyrinth of my memory, I could recall these snapshots of Ryan, who had always been rather quiet and soft-spoken. Maybe you could even say a little effeminate. So what, though? Not every guy was a masculine manly-man, and if you weren’t, that didn’t mean you were gay. I didn’t have a problem with people’s sexual preferences, and I knew Jason didn’t either. So if Ryan really was gay, wouldn’t he just come out and say it? Why the charade with Ashleigh?
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