by Jarod Powell
Luptas looks shocked at the apology. “Don’t be sorry, Jack! It’s not your fault.” Luptas leaned in closer and spoke quietly. “Anyway, this guy’s got kind of a reputation as rift-raft. I just want to make sure she made it home okay last night. And I want you to have my card...”
Luptas looked at Jack with pity, and extended his card to Jack. Jack takes it, and Luptas clasps Jack’s hand. Jack looks somewhat startled.
Luptas spoke fatherly to Jack. “It’s got my cell phone number on the back, okay?” Jack nodded.
Luptas clasped Jack’s hand more tightly. “If you need anything at all – if you need anything at all – or if you need me to pick you up, or if you need to crash at me and my wife’s house, whatever – if anything goes wrong at home, I want you to call me. You and your mama can trust me. Okay?”
Jack was extremely uncomfortable. “Okay, Sheriff—
“You can call me Eric.”
“Thanks, Mister Eric.”
Later that day, Harris and Jack decided to get high at Jack’s place.
“You sure she’s cool with it?” Harris asked.
“She doesn’t care,” Jack said.
Entering the house, Harris stops in the doorway.
“What?” Jack asked.
“Your house is a total sty, man.” Harris said with slight disgust.
“So?” Jack said.
“Where’s your hot-ass mom at?”
“Shut up!” Jack said sternly. “She’ll hear you!”
“Wake her up for me!” Harris said, gyrating his hips. “I’d fix her up real good…”
Jack punched Harris in a snap of hostility. Harris was taken back. “Ow! Out of bounds, Hypno!” He rubbed his arm.
Jack walked down the hall to Thelma’s room. It was empty. The bathroom was also empty. He looks back at Harris. “She’s not here?” He asked. He popped a smashed snacked cake into his mouth.
“She’s not here,” Jack said.
“Want a ding-dong?” Harris asked, mouth full of imitation chocolate.
The next morning, the boys stood at their usual spot to catch the bus. Jack looks across the field, and sees Nathan bending over, picking dandelions, as the boys talk in the background. He sees Jack and shoots up abruptly, waving over-enthusiastically; almost like he’s doing it sarcastically.
“Hey, big brother!” Nathan says.
Meanwhile, the boys recognize Jack’s trance. “Uh-oh, he’s at it again,” Petor says. He snaps his fingers. “One…two…three!” Jack comes back to the present. The boys laugh.
Jack slept alone that night. He was woken by the phone ringing. The answering machine picks up. It was Thelma, calling from where ever she may have fled.
“Jack...I love you...I’m with Frank, we took a little getaway. Don’t know when I’ll be back. Keep the house clean, and there’s cash in the top dresser drawer. Bye!”
In the fog of sleep, Jack recognized his mother’s voice, and walked over the answering machine. He tried to play back the message, but there wasn’t one. It was either erased, or part of a dream.
During Jack’s morning shower, he sang. He sang whatever came to mind: A hymn, a Taylor Swift song, whatever was in his head. He sang pitch-perfect; flawlessly. He heard a rustling. He peeked his head out of the shower curtain. Nathan sat across from him, on the closed toilet, smoking a cigarette. He lets were crossed. His foot twitched, and he looked indignant.
“You’re faking it. Why do you do it?” Nathan asked.
Jack shut the curtain. “Do you mind?”
“You know all the words, Hypno. Maybe you should sing everything you say.”
“Don’t call me that, Nathan.”
Jack finishes his shower. When he leaves the shower to towel off, Nathan is no longer there. There’s a knock on the door.
Jack wraps a towel around his waist, and answers the door. It’s Officer Luptas. “Heard you singing. You were always the best little singer, back in your church days.”
“Thank you,” Jack said. “Juice?”
“That’d be real nice, thank you, Buddy.”
Jack pours a glass of juice and slides it to Luptas.
“Jack, the reason I’m here is because the tavern called the station. Your mother hasn’t shown up to work for a few days.” Luptas waited on Jack to show emotion.
“Yeah, she’s out of town with, uh…”
“Frank,” Luptas said. Jack nodded.
“You talked to her last night?” Luptas asked.
“No. She left a…the answering machine,” Jack said.
“What time did she call?” Luptas asked.
“Dunno,” Jack said. “It was late.”
“How’d she sound?”
“Drunk,” Jack answered. Luptas laughed.
“Probably having a good time, huh?” Luptas asked. Jack shrugged.
“Do you mind if I listen to the message?” Luptas asked.
“It’s not there anymore.”
“You deleted it?” Luptas became more intensely inquisitive.
“No.”
Luptas pondered for a moment. “Machine do it?”
“I guess so.”
Luptas pursed his lips for a moment. Then he went back into character and let out a chuckle. “What kind of machine you got?” He asked, chipper. “Ours messes up a lot too. The wife got it at the Goodwill. Looks brand new, but I guess the previous owner donated it for a reason.”
Jack simply nodded. There’s a pause.
Finally, Jack said, “I don’t know. Came with the phone.”
“She didn’t sound distressed or anything?” Luptas asked. “Nothing funny, was there?”
“No.”
“Okay. Do you have a relative or someone you can stay with?”
“No.”
“Where does your brother’s daddy live?” Luptas asked.
“He lives in Pittsburgh, but he was supposed to visit Springfield on his way to Kansas City.”
“When?”
“Was supposed to come last week.”
“He never came?” Luptas asked.
“No.”
Jack looked uncomfortable. “He might be there now. It was a trip…um…work…”
“A business trip,” Luptas said. Jack nodded. “Well, Springfield’s just a stone’s throw to Hawthorn,” Luptas said. ”You haven’t seen him?” Jack shook his head no.
“You try to call him?” Luptas asked.
“I don’t know where he’s staying at,” Jack said.
“No cell phone?” Asked Luptas. Jack shrugged.
Luptas sighed. “Well, like I said before: I’ve known you and your mom for a long time. Me and her went to school together and everything.” Luptas leaned closer to Jack. “I think a lot of her. When I come over here, it’s not because you’re in trouble. Okay?”
“I know,” Jack mumbled. Eric extended his hand. Jack shook it limply.
“You’ve got to firm up that grip, boy!” Eric said with a grin. Jack gave him a courtesy chuckle. “You need anything, don’t hesitate,” Eric said. “You hear me? And keep me posted on your mom.”
“Okay. Thanks,” Jack said.
Eric got up to leave. “Bye, Son.”
“Bye, Mister Eric.”
The fire danced in front of the group of friends – Petor, Harris, Santos, and a girl named Sinthia. Jack got up to take a leak in the nearby woods.
In the thick of the woods, he hears an ethereal echo: “Just because you’re in the woods, doesn’t mean we can’t see you.”
Jack, knowing immediately who it was, zips his pants. With his back turned, he asked, “What do you want?” He turned toward Nathan, sitting crossed-legged in the dirt. “Why don’t you just leave me alone?” Jack asked, frustrated.
“Annoying, isn’t it?” Nathan asked condescendingly. “Just showing up uninvited…”
“Stay dead,” Jack said.
“Coward,” Nathan said, confrontational but calm.
“I’m the coward?”
“Yup,”
Nathan said, unrelenting.
“What about you?” Jack asked, defensive.
“What about me?” Nathan said sternly. “And what happened to that cute little speech impediment?”
“Shut the fuck up!” Jack’s voice was raised.
“Not so meek when you’re arguing with a dead man, are you?” Nathan taunted.
“You’re not dead,” Jack said with tears in his eyes.
“What do you care?” Nathan asked. Jack and Nathan glare at each other for a lingering second. In the distance, Harris yelled, “Jack, who are you talking to?” Jack looked back to find Nathan vanished, naturally.
Harris made his way through the shrubs and weeds to find Jack standing there. He looked completely freaked out. “What’s up?” He asked with a shaky voice.
“Nothin’,” Jack pouted.
“We were looking for you,” Harris said.
“Where is everybody?”
Jack, asleep to another documentary on the History Channel, is woken by a knock on the door. It’s Eric Luptas. He’s holding his hat. “Come on in,” Jack said.
“How are you, buddy?” Luptas asked.
“I’m…um…tired. Sleepy.”
“Have you been sick?”
“No.”
“It’s just, Ms. Luptas has been asking about you haven’t made to speech class.” Eric Luptas always seemed to walk on eggshells around Jack. “Can we sit?”
Eric took a seat on the couch, and looked nervous. “Jack, I’ve been a cop for a long time, and I’ve seen some stuff, but this is by far the hardest part of my job, and I’m no good at it. I’m gonna be as delicate as possible.”
All Jack could do was stare blankly. But he knew.
“How?” Jack asked, with a disturbing numbness.
“I don’t know,” Luptas said. “They just found them. Dispatch girl says they were shot, but I don’t know for sure.”
Jack, with characteristic coldness, asked, “Where was she?”
Luptas sighed. “At a truck stop halfway between here and Springfield. Thelma and that Tarrus fellow, they were both in the back of his Semi truck. Been there for a while.”
Jack stares down, maintaining his expressionless demeanor.
“Jack? You with me?” Luptas asked. Jack made eye contact, tears welling.
“Why don’t you just stay with me and the Mrs. tonight,” Luptas said with sorrow and concern. Jack gets up.
“Why don’t you let me help you get some stuff. Okay?” Luptas said in a father’s voice. Jack shook his head no.
“No?”
Jack’s brain was scrambled. “Will you...um...like, um...stay...”
“I will stay,” Luptas said without hesitation.
“Just for a while,” Jack said, apologetic and pleading in tone.
“I will do that,” Luptas said.
Jack’s dissociative exterior started to crack. Luptas put his hand on his shoulder. Jack teared up but held it together. He sees Nathan for a split-second. Sitting on the couch behind the two, he gives a knowing glare to Jack. Jack starts to cry.
“I knew. I already knew…” As he starts to whimper, Eric rubs his back.
Eric eventually fell asleep. Jack, in an altered state, curled up onto Eric’s chest, on the recliner. Eric woke, but despite his surprise at Jack’s behavior, simply put his arm around him.
The Cue ‘n Brew, where Thelma supposedly worked the night she disappeared, was the town of Hawthorn’s only bar. The owner, Billy Joe, was a well-intended but gruff man.
Billy Joe was cleaning the bar at about 7 o’clock in the morning, when there was a knock on the door. Cursing under his breath, he opened the door to find Eric Luptas.
“How’s it goin’, Eric?” Billy Joe offered a pleasantry despite his work being interrupted.
“Okay, Billy J,” Eric Luptas said.
“Can I git you somethin’?” Billy Joe asked.
“A little early, ain’t it?” After a pause, he gave in. “Yeah, a beer, I guess. Whatever’s still cold.”
“It’s always cold, my friend,” Billy Joe said.
Billy Joe goes behind the bar and twists the cap off a beer and hands it to Eric. Eric takes a seat. He looks around. “I forgot how nice this place is,” he said.
“Well, then,” Billy Joe said, “You should come by more often.”
“Ah, my jukin’ days are over, Billy Joe.”
“That’s why I got no use for marriage.”
Eric nods in agreement. As Billy pour Eric’s beer, he makes an observation. “Now, I know you didn’t come by here and 7 o’clock in the morning to drink.”
“You been watchin’ the news?” Eric asks.
“Mmhmm.”
“Tell me what you know, Billy Boy.”
“Well...” Billy Joe said, “one thing I know, she went home with a different guy every night. She told one of the girls that it was a perk of the job.”
“She ever talk about the boy?” Eric asked.
“That autistic boy of hers?” Asked Billy Joe.
“His name’s Jack,” Eric corrected him. “And he’s actually not autistic.”
“Then what’s wrong with—“
“He’s got dysnomia.”
“Dysnomia?”
“Yeah,” Eric said. There was an elongated silence. “So, I’m gonna go ahead and guess that no, she didn’t talk about him very much.”
“Most of the stuff I know, I heard from the other girls,” Billy Joe said.
“Such as?”
Billy Joe hemmed and hawed for a second. “He’d be caught talkin’ to himself. He said he saw his brother all the time, like he didn’t know he was dead.”
Eric did his best to keep a stone face. “So he was seeing and hearing stuff?”
“Yeah.”
Eric was becoming more and more disturbed. “He ever act violent?”
“Well,” Billy Joe said, “He was hanging out with those boys, you know. She said he’d come home drunk and get mad and throw shit. But she never let on like he beat her or nothin’. I don’t think he could take her, anyway.” Billy Joe looked grave. “You don’t think he did it, do you?” Eric, perhaps unconvincingly, shook his head no.
“He stayin’ with you?” Billy Joe asked, treading lightly. Eric was silent.
Billy Joe fidgeted for a second, battling with himself whether to ask this question: “Does he know?”
