Lost and Found

by Chris Van Hakes

  “Well, not on it. You could just sit in the back of the bar. For moral support?”

  “You have nothing to be nervous about, Urs. You’re gorgeous. You’re smart. You’re fun to be around.”

  “Don’t give me a Stuart Smalley speech. I so don’t need that right now.” She muffled her face with the bandage dress and moaned. “If Dr. Wild hates me, I’ll be so humiliated. Please?”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll come on your date with you. Because that’s normal.”

  “Since when are you normal?” she asked, but she got up off the bed and gave me a big hug, rocking me from side to side as I started laughing. “You’re my best friend, Delaney,” she said into my neck. “My very best. I promise I will be your date spy any time you need it.”

  “I won’t need it!” I laughed, and she let me go with a contemplative hum. “Maybe,” she said. “But I have a feeling about you and Oliver. He likes you. Beware.”

  “Oliver? No. No. He and I are not like that, and we will definitely never, ever be like that.”

  “Nonetheless, don’t date him, okay? He doesn’t do relationships.”

  “Trust me, I know. And there’s no relationship to be done,” I said.

  “We’ll see,” she said dubiously.

  Eight

  Oliver

  I saw her sitting in a back booth, but she didn’t notice me. Her eyes were focused on Ursula and Michael at the bar. I picked up my beer and smiled, taking long strides to surprise her. Maybe we could go for a burger or finish watching the Hitler documentary. Or maybe we could eat some of the caramel fudge cake she’d been working on the other day.

  I’d heard her mixer running when I’d come back from errands and knocked on her door. Later I’d licked batter from the bowl and then, in a move I wouldn’t quite explain to myself, brushed her bangs out of her eyes and off of her forehead so I could see her patch. She’d blinked at me and stepped away as her dark cheeks turned red, and the awkwardness consumed us until I closed the gap between us. To relieve the tension, I put my hand back in the mixing bowl to get some more batter, and then smeared it down her cheek, then the other.

  Then I smeared it down her nose, and soon I was putting my sticky fingers on her neck and in her hair as she screamed, “Ticklish! Ticklish!” while gasping for air through her laughs. I smiled to myself at the memory.

  At the Saturn, I froze halfway to Delaney. A man came by her booth and tapped on the table, and her rapt attention broke as she smiled at the stranger, who slid in next to her. He touched her arm, and I gripped my beer tighter. She laughed at something he said, and I had to turn away and look at something else.

  My eyes fell on a redhead.

  Delaney

  “Hey there, stranger,” Colin from Special Collections said. He was blond with freckles all over his face, brown glasses that matched the color of them, and a cute dimple carving into one cheek. He was tall and thin and funny, and when Ursula saw me talking with him last week at work, had tugged on my sleeve, begging me to flirt it up.

  “Colin is cute. And he knows all about Jenny Edmonton, even if he is partial to James Patterson novels. And he’s not a jerk, like Oliver.”

  “Oliver does not like me like that.”

  “Uh huh,” she said distractedly. “Oliver is a womanizer. Stay away.”

  “Trust me, there’s nothing to stay away from. As for Colin, there’s pretty much nothing hotter than a man who reads, except if they’re James Patterson novels. I was going to jump him, but now I just don’t know. If only it were Lee Child or Clive Cussler. But James Patterson? My libido just shriveled up and died.”

  Ursula jabbed me in the ribs. “Whatever. He’s cute. Those freckles. I bet they go everywhere.”

  “Hmm,” I said, and then we both stared at Colin until he uncomfortably looked up from a patron he was helping and said, “What?”

  We shook our heads and walked out of Special Collections. “Well, now I need some Anaïs Nin,” Ursula said, fanning herself.

  “Whatever. You’re going out with Michael next week. I bet he’s much better than Anaïs Nin. Not that I’ve ever read Anaïs Nin. Too afraid someone at the library would find out.”

  “They wouldn’t do that,” Ursula said. “They don’t care that much.”

  “I know,” I said. “I know intellectually, but I’m still afraid.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “This is why you wouldn’t watch that Zooey Deschanel movie with me at the Guild the other day.”

  “Ugh, Zooey—”

  “Don’t! I like her. She’s pretty and sassy and intelligent and maybe a little ditzy.”

  “Like you, minus the ditzy,” I said.

  “Exactly, except I am ditzy. And I don’t care. I don’t care if her movies aren’t intellectual fare. I don’t care what people think, because I like them. But you.” She pointed a finger at me. “You are too preoccupied with what people will think.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Then read some Anaïs Nin. Or ask out Colin.”

  We walked to the Burger King in silence until I said, “No. I can’t.”

  “You can.”

  “You can go around being all cute and brave about your choices because you’re adorable and loveable. Emily is strong and beautiful. She’s ruthlessly self-confident. But I’m not, okay? I’m not there.”

  “Okay,” she said softly. “But maybe you could just buy it on your e-reader?”

  “Oh, I thought we were talking about Colin.”

  “We were talking about either.”

  “Maybe,” I said, “but I’m not asking Colin out.”

  Back at the Saturn, I smiled up at Colin and said, “Sit down and keep me company. You’ll never believe why I’m here.”

  He sat so close our thighs touched, and he put his hand on my arm, which was awkward. Was I supposed to swoon? Touch his arm? Move closer? I ended up giving out a nervous laugh and then said, “So, Ursula said you like James Patterson.”

  He groaned and then laughed. “That was confidential information. Mark must have told her. I’m supposed to look cool and intelligent for the ladies.”

  “So I bet James Patterson is just code for James Joyce, right?”

  “Right. Let’s talk about Ulysses.”

  “Let’s not and say we did.”

  “That’s my favorite kind of literary discussion about James Joyce,” he said, smiling too hard at me. “So, why are you here?”

  I stuck my chin in Ursula’s direction. “I’m babysitting Ursula. She’s on a first date and she was a nervous wreck, so I had to come along early and sit in this booth. I’m on my third G&T,” I said, a little wobbly.

  Colin’s smile faltered for just a second as he stared at Ursula. “Oh, got it.” A waitress came by to take our order, and I squared my shoulders and said, “Can I buy you a drink?”

  He patted my arm again and said, “Actually, I should be going. Just wanted to say hi.” Then he stood up and put his hands in his pockets. “Well.”

  “Sure. ‘Hi,’” I said with a fake smile, trying not feel sucker-punched. “And bye?”

  “You’re going to have to tell me another time about Ursula. I mean—about how the date went.”

  “Sure,” I said. “We should hang out some time.” Colin put his hand on the back of his neck and looked back at Ursula again, saying, “Yeah, see you,” and walked off.

  I slumped into the back of the booth, the rejection swirling in my chest and stomach, making my limbs heavy and clumsy. Or maybe that was the gin. I squinted across the bar to my best friend.

  Ursula was tossing her hair back and laughing too much. Michael didn’t seem to notice, though, because he was grinning so hard at her I thought his face might break. I stood up from the booth and decided Ursula was fine on her own. I was ready to leave until my eyes fell to the front of the bar and I froze.

  Bracing both hands on the exposed brick wall on either side of a tiny redhead, Oliver’s dark hair flopped down his forehead as he le
aned into the girl, smiling as she angled her miniskirt-clad body toward him.

  I sat back down in my booth, hard. I stumbled backwards a little as I fell into the cushion. The redhead tangled her fingers in the hair at the nape of Oliver’s neck and smiled up at him. He leaned into her even further. They couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other, and I couldn’t stop the unexpected murderous rage spiking through me.

  I looked around at the bar, desperate for a way to escape without Oliver noticing me, but he was propped against the wall near the door. I turned my back to him and pulled out my phone, taking deep calming breaths in the hopes that my rage would settle to a simmer and I could give him a platonic smile. I tried Emily, but she didn’t pick up. I tried waving down Ursula, but her eyes were glued to Michael’s face. When the waitress came back, I admitted defeat and ordered two more gin and tonics.

  “For you and your friend?” the waitress asked. “Is he coming back?”

  “Uh huh,” I lied. “So, the two drinks.” When she came back, I drank them as fast as I could, waited for everything to grow fuzzy, and then paid my tab and walked right past Oliver and his date.

  Oliver

  A pair of warm hands covered my eyes before dropping and grabbing my arm, turning me around. “Hi,” a woman who looked exactly like Delaney said. She listed left and I put my hands on her shoulders to steady her. “Whoa there,” I said.

  “Hiiiii,” she said again. Her eyes landed on Belinda, and Delaney said, “Hi. I’m Delaney. I’m Oliver’s friend. Well, not friend. Neighbor. Acquaintance. We barely know each other. He doesn’t even like me, but he ate my pie.” Belinda’s eyes widened and I shook my head slightly.

  “Are you here with Emily and Ursula?” I said to Delaney.

  “Just Ursula. But she’s with Dr. Wild. Michael. Dr. Wiiiiild,” she said.

  “Okay. Let me get her.” My hands dropped from her shoulders.

  “No! I was just leaving. Ursula’s on her date. I’m not ruining it.” She was vigorously shaking her head. “I’m leaving.” She started walking toward the exit, and I caught her by the crook of her elbow. “Delaney, hold on. You can’t leave alone.”

  “I’ll get a cab.”

  “This is Prairie Glen. There are no cabs out on the street.”

  “I’ll call one,” she said, clumsily planting her hands on her hips. “And I’ll wait outside so I don’t disturb your date.” Her eyes fell and she shifted, and then said, “Sorry. Oh God, I’m so sorry, Oliver.” She swiveled her head over to Belinda. “I’m so sorry for interrupting. I wasn’t going to. I was going to walk right out the door but—”

  “But?” Belinda said.

  “I can’t remember, honestly. I’m going to wait outside. Bye,” Delaney said, and she wriggled out of my hold and walked out the door.

  “That was weird,” Belinda said when Delaney was gone.

  “Yeah.”

  “So, where were we?” She stood on her tiptoes and looped her arms around my neck, pulling me close to her face. I pulled away and said, “Except, she’s drunk, right?”

  “Yeah? She said she was getting a cab.” She was going to sit out in the dark, drunk and alone, waiting for a long time while I stood in here with a woman I barely knew, that I didn’t even like.

  “I should probably walk her home. I’m sorry.” I pulled Belinda’s arms off of me.

  “She’ll get the wrong idea if you take care of her. I know girls like that, and they just eat up affection.”

  “Girls like what?”

  Belinda wrinkled her nose. “She’s mousy. She’s buried in her clothes and she has that stupid hair that calls attention to her, but then you look at her, and there’s nothing much there.”

  I looked away from Belinda, but she kept talking. “You know, they’re all the same. They’re not girls you’d want.”

  “Me?”

  “Sure. This is a small town; everyone knows your type, Oliver. She’s not exactly it.”

  “Uh huh,” I said, and walked out the door with my hands fisted so tight my fingernails cut into my palms, very glad Delaney had interrupted me when she had. “I’ve got to go take care of my friend.”

  But when I got out of the Saturn, Delaney wasn’t waiting on the curb for a cab, or leaning against the building. She was crossing the street, not looking at the oncoming traffic coming right at her.

  Nine

  Delaney

  It was late summer, but the grass was cold and damp. I laid down on it anyway, eager to stop my spinning head. I looked up at the stars. They were so numerous in Prairie Glen; LA’s city lights were more than the starlight could take, and they’d run back here, like me. “I know the feeling, stars,” I said. Then I realized I was one second away from seeing a broken swing set and taking it as a metaphor for my broken dreams. “Argh, I’m sorry, stars. I’m usually less cheesy than this.” Alcohol made me maudlin and clichéd.

  “Who are you talking to?” Oliver said as he sat down beside me, slightly breathless.

  I kept staring straight up at the night sky. “What are you doing? Where’s your date?”

  “In the bar.”

  “Go back to her.”

  “Nah. Do you ever get the feeling that this town is too small?” he said.

  “I think it’s just the right size.”

  “You know you were about to get killed crossing the street. That was dumb.” He lie down next to me, and poked me in the ribs. I swatted his hand away and said, “Sometimes I’m dumb. But I wasn’t going to get hit by a car. I’m drunk, not blind.”

  “I saw the car coming right at you.”

  “You’re being a drama queen. I ran across. The cab won’t be here for twenty minutes. I don’t know why, since I could walk across the whole town in twenty minutes, but whatever. I thought I’d sit down.”

  He made some kind of manly gruff sound indicating he was upset with me. Then he said, “You could have just asked me to walk you home instead of trying to get me to save you.”

  I turned my head. “Save me?”

  “Sure. Look at you. You got drunk twenty feet away from me, and then you interrupted my date, made a scene, and then left. You’re the drama queen.”

  “Maybe I got drunk because I was drowning my sorrows, and it has nothing to do with you,” I said, turning back to the stars.

  “What sorrows?” he huffed. He folded his arms under his head and stared up at the sky with me. “Are you going to tell me the constellations now?”

  “I never took astronomy. I don’t know any constellations, except Orion. I like Orion.”

  “Yeah? Why?”

  “He’s got a sword,” I said. “And my sorrows had to do with a cute guy named Colin who I thought was flirting with me, but it turned out he has the hots for Ursula.”

  Oliver snorted. “That’s dumb.”

  “No it’s not. She’s beautiful.”

  “Of course she’s beautiful. But it’s dumb that you got drunk because of some guy. You said yourself you were staying away from men.”

  “Good point. This was just the reinforcement I needed. Men and me don’t mix. They just don’t get me.”

  “I get you,” Oliver said.

  “Yeah, but you’re not a man. Not in the same way.” I said it in an offhand manner, and even though Oliver was the most attractive man I could think of as I ran through a mental flipbook of men, and I was developing an unhealthy, one-sided crush on him, he was still my friend, not just a man. I smiled at him and poked him back in the ribs.

  “I think I should be offended, but somehow I’m not.”

  I waved my hand in the air in a vague gesture. “You know what I mean.” I propped myself on my elbows so I could look down at him. He looked right in my eyes and said, “I know what you mean.”

  “I’m sorry for being drunk. But you can go back to your date. I’ll wait out in front of the bar.”

  “Eh, it wasn’t really a date. This is better. I’ll wait with you until your cab comes.” Then he added, “Just to
make sure you don’t cross the street drunk again.”

  “My hero,” I said, clasping one hand to my chest and the other to my forehead, pretending to swoon. His lips twitched and he said, “I’m glad you find emasculating me a fun hobby.”

  “Good. Then we’re on the same page.” I settled back down in the grass.

  “Delaney?”

  “Yeah?”

  I felt his breath in my hair. “Can I ask you a favor?” I nodded. “Could you not walk outside drunk in the dark anymore? It scared me.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Thanks.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and he pulled me to his side as we stared up at the sky and huddled against the cold of the night.

  Oliver

  I put Delaney in the cab and watched it drive down the street, and I wondered what I was still doing there without her.

  Ten

  Oliver

  I was coming off of three twelve-hour shifts when Delaney flung open her apartment door, her face blotchy and tear-stained as she took quick, shallow breaths.

  “God, what happened?” I asked.

  “It’s Jenny. I can’t find Jenny,” she said. “I went down to get the mail, and I guess I didn’t close the door entirely, because she followed me down, and when someone opened the front door, she darted out. She’s gone.” She started to cry big, heaving sobs, and then she reached for me.

  I patted her back and smoothed out her hair, talking in the same soothing tone I used for mothers who brought in toddlers with fevers or rashes or bruises. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “It’s not!”

  “It is. First we’re going to walk around the neighborhood with a bunch of dog treats and call for her.”

  “I tried that!”

  “Then we’re going to post flyers. We’re going to knock on all the doors in the neighborhood. We’re going to call the animal shelters and make sure she wasn’t picked up by one of them.”

  “But she could be lying dead in a gutter! And it’s my fault!” She started sobbing again and clutched at me, hard, and I tried not to focus on how good it felt to have her in my arms.