The Last Secret You'll Ever Keep

by Laurie Faria Stolarz

  “I’m sure there is. And, likewise, there’s so much that you don’t know about me either.” He takes off his sweatshirt and drapes it over my shoulders.

  It’s only then I notice how hard I’m shivering, how cold I feel.

  “You just have to be open to giving people a chance,” he says.

  “Opening up hasn’t really worked well for me so far.”

  “Sometimes it won’t, and sometimes you’ll open up to the wrong people. But that doesn’t mean you should stop looking for the right people.”

  His words create a riptide inside my body; all currents flow through my veins, heating up my face.

  Garret’s gaze travels from my eyes to my mouth, before he looks away and takes a step back. “So, what do you say?” he asks. “Shall we get out of here?”

  I nod, knowing it’s the right thing to do, but not quite ready to let the moment go. As we exit the park, there are things I want to tell him—like that one day, maybe, I will trust again and that possibly, yes, I’d like to open up. But instead I picture the self-portrait in my room with its soot-stained face and wax-sealed lips.

  And I hear my father calling my name from outside my bedroom door.

  And I think of my last stint in the hospital, when Dr. Mary told me, emphatically—with no room for argument—that what happened in the well was a story my mind created.

  And I burn a little crisper.

  And I feel a little lonelier.

  And I remain as silent as snow.

  NOW

  34

  It’s quiet between Garret and me on the ride home. His fingers are tense on the wheel, like a cat hanging on to a ledge.

  I gaze out the window, rubbing the sleeve of his sweatshirt against my cheek. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out back there.”

  “Are you kidding? You didn’t freak me out.”

  “So, you didn’t mind nearly getting arrested in front of a bunch of homeschoolers?”

  “Nearly, not really.” He winks.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Isn’t that precisely what you called yourself?”

  “It is.”

  “So, it would seem we have something in common.” He turns onto my street and pulls up in front of my aunt’s house. “Let’s do this again sometime, shall we?”

  “Harassing schoolteachers?”

  “Unless you’d rather we target some other selfless member of our community, like one of the nurses at the public health clinic, maybe? Or a volunteer at the Red Cross?”

  I let out a laugh—the first one in I can’t even remember when. I look back at the house, not really wanting to go in. “Thank you for everything.” I start to hand him back his sweatshirt.

  “Keep it,” he says, pushing it toward me. “At least until the chill wears off. Also, before you leave, I want to give you my number. Just in case of anything. You can feel free to contact me if and when you ever need to. And don’t feel like you have to give me your number too; I’ll just give you mine—not that I don’t want your number, that is. I mean, you can give it to me if you want.” He flashes a sheepish grin.

  I open up the address book on my phone. Garret tells me his number. I save the contact, then press to dial it. Garret’s phone buzzes with the call.

  “Now you have my number too,” I tell him.

  “Hopefully, that’s not something you’ll regret.”

  “I won’t regret it.” My face reheats. I cover it with the sweatshirt, pressing the sleeve against my mouth, noticing for the first time how much it smells like him—a mix of tangerine and musk. “Thanks again.”

  “No problem at all. I’m really glad I ran into you today.”

  I start to exit the truck, knowing full well what I’m leaving behind: a taste of what life felt like before I was taken. The last thing I want is to leave it again. But I tell him goodbye anyway.

  NOW

  35

  In my room, I log on to Jane and check the chat feed for Peyton’s name, but she isn’t on, once again, leaving a sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  JA Admin: Welcome, NightTerra. Remember the rules: no judgments, no swearing, no inappropriate remarks. This is a safe space for honesty and support.

  TulipPrincess: She thinks it’s ok, that this is what’s normal.

  Cobra-head43: Did you meet him yet?

  TulipPrincess: Unfortunately. She brought him home last night. She was all flirty with him too, touching his shoulder and giggling about stupid stuff. It made me want to yack.

  NightTerra: What did I miss?

  TulipPrincess: My mother found herself a new leech (boyfriend). They met at her support group, even though hooking up with fellow victims is supposedly against the rules.

  Cobra-head43: Maybe he’ll be different.

  TulipPrincess: And maybe I’ll shit roses. They’re always the same. Trust me. He’s just a newer, shinier version of the same old asshole.

  JA Admin: Remember the rules. No swearing, please.

  TulipPrincess: Oops, sorry.

  TulipPrincess: Am I the only one who constantly breaks this rule? Lol!

  TulipPrincess: Anyway, the leech kept telling me how lucky I am, that my mother is such a warrior woman, fighting for me.

  TulipPrincess: If I wanted everyone to know my business, I’d wear a T-shirt to announce it.

  Cobra-head43: I guess that makes sense, though, right? That he knows stuff, I mean. Since they met at a support group …

  TulipPrincess: I feel like it should be my story to tell, not hers—and especially not as a way to pick up guys. Seriously, she can’t handle being single for more than five minutes. T-minus 52 days until I’m legal and can move out. #buh-bye

  NightTerra: I’m so sorry.

  TulipPrincess: And I’m so done. Can we talk about something else now? I’m kind of over my shitty drama. I want to hear about someone else’s. Lol.

  Cobra-head43: Not exactly dramatic, but def shitty … I haven’t slept in three days.

  NightTerra: Has Paylee22 been on here today?

  NightTerra: Sorry, Cobra-head43. We must’ve typed at the same time.

  JA Admin: One more time, watch the language, please. No swearing.

  TulipPrincess: Not that I’ve seen so far.

  Cobra-head43: NightTerra, Np.

  Cobra-head43: JA Admin, Sorry for swearing.:(

  TulipPrincess: Me too. #pottymouth #multipleoffenser

  Cobra-head43: Paylee was on yesterday, I think.

  Cobra-head43: She seemed quiet, not her usual chatty self. I asked her what was up and she said she had a lot on her plate.

  SugarRush911: Who on here doesn’t?!?

  Cobra-head43: Right, but she didn’t really want to talk about it.

  SugarRush911: Then why come on a chat site?

  NightTerra: What time was that?

  Cobra-head43: Late, like 2AM, my time. West Coast.

  Cobra-head43: What time is that for Paylee?

  NightTerra: Five maybe. This morning.???

  TulipPrincess: She was probably looking for you, NightTerra. You guys are always disappearing from the “public” chat to go into private chat rooms.

  Cobra-head43: Actually, now that you mention it, I kind of remember her asking about NightTerra.

  TulipPrincess: She’ll probably be on later. That girl doesn’t stay away for long.

  Cobra-head43: Paylee doesn’t seem to sleep much. Like me. Lol.

  I remain lurking in the chat room for another full hour, waiting for Peyton. But she doesn’t show up. Might she be purposely staying away? Has she told anyone about the book page in her mailbox? Was that what she was referring to when she said she had a lot on her plate? Could I have been on her plate too—because of how cold I was to her? Is that why she was asking about me?

  I hate that I don’t know the answers. Hate that people say she seemed quiet on the chat. And hate, most of all, that I consciously chose to push her away, ignoring her cries for help, as though I haven’t learned a thing.
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  NOW

  36

  I search the chat room feed for Peyton’s name at various times throughout the following day. But still no luck, and so I draft her a message:

  Dear Peyton,

  I’d really like to talk to you. I’m sorry about our last chat. You were right about protecting your privacy. Maybe part of me feels stupid for not doing the same. I’m not perfect—nowhere close—which you probably know better than anyone else. When you have a moment, could you please let me know that you’re okay? I miss you.

  Xoxoxo!

  Love,

  Terra

  P.S. I’ve been watching more of Summer’s Story.

  I hit Send and join the chat:

  JennaIsDead: No, my brother told me. It’s totally fine.

  TulipPrincess: Well, at least, now you know.

  NightTerra: Hey, everyone!

  TulipPrincess: Hey, NT! When did you sneak in?

  NightTerra: Any Paylee22 sightings?

  JennaIsDead: Who????

  TulipPrincess: Nope.

  Cobra-head43: Nada.

  JennaIsDead: Sorry, I’m new here.

  TulipPrincess: Paylee22 is a girl who practically lives on this site. Aside from the past few days, I’m not sure I’ve ever come online and not found her on here. But you could probably say the same about me. Lol.

  Cobra-head43: Ditto.

  CityGirlSal: Maybe she got blocked.

  NightTerra: Blocked for what?

  CityGirlSal: I don’t know. Trying to share her cell number or something.

  NightTerra: Share it with whom??

  CityGirlSal: I don’t know. It’s just a guess.

  TulipPrincess: She’s probably just busy.

  CityGirlSal: Maybe she got a job. Is she still in school?

  CityGirlSal: Why not ask one of the Jane administrators about her? Maybe they know something. They’d at least know if she were blocked.

  CityGirlSal: Isn’t that right, JA Admin? Are you guys listening??? #ThisIsATest

  TulipPrincess: If you click on the About Jane page, you can find the contact link. They’ll answer you too. I once got a response from “Jane Anonymous” herself.

  CityGirlSal: What did you contact “JA” about?

  NightTerra: Good idea. I’ll try that.

  TulipPrincess: Wouldn’t you like to know? Lol.

  CityGirlSal: Be sure to report back, NightTerra. You’ve got me wondering about Paylee now.

  NightTerra: Will do. ’Night, everyone. Thanks for your help.

  NightTerra has left the chat room. There are currently 6 people in the chat room.

  NOW

  37

  The next morning, after a mostly sleepless night spent checking and rechecking the chat room for Peyton, with still no luck or any messages in my JaneBox, I click Contact and choose the option to chat with one of the administrators.

  JA Admin: Hey there, NightTerra. What can I help you with?

  NightTerra: I’m worried about one of the members on the site. Her name is Peyton (chat name, Paylee22). She’s usually in the chat room, but she hasn’t been on in days.

  JA Admin: How many days?

  NightTerra: Two, maybe. I’m not really sure. Some people said they saw her on, but it’s a little iffy.

  JA Admin: Ok, well, two days is not so many. Maybe she’s on vacation.

  NightTerra: She would’ve mentioned if she were going away someplace.

  JA Admin: Maybe … Does she have a job?

  NightTerra: Not anymore.

  JA Admin: Are you sure about that? Maybe it’s a new job.

  NightTerra: I don’t think that’s it. She has a hard time even leaving her house.

  JA Admin: Did something happen in the chat room?

  NightTerra: What do you mean?

  JA Admin: I mean, was she involved in a recent disagreement or argument with anyone?

  NightTerra: Why would that matter?

  JA Admin: Sometimes disagreements or altercations of any kind can make it harder to come back to a chat room.

  JA Admin: The person may feel anxious that things could get heated again. They might also regret something they said.

  JA Admin: Remember the whole reason people enter a chat room to begin with is so they can release their stressors, not create new ones.:)

  NightTerra: Ok, but Peyton is always on. Do you know who she is—her real name, I mean? First and last? And where she lives? Is there any way you can check up on her somehow?

  JA Admin: You want us to check up on someone because she hasn’t logged in to a chat room for two days?

  NightTerra: I think she might be in trouble.

  JA Admin: What makes you think that?

  NightTerra: Because she thought the guy who abducted her before—eight months ago—was watching her, tracking her movements … She recently got a message … It was in her mailbox.

  JA Admin: Ok. Let’s start from the beginning.

  I spend the next several minutes telling the Jane administrator everything I know about Peyton’s recent trip to the pharmacy; the page left in her mailbox, including the highlighted message; and the constant fear she has that her abductor is going to come back for her. At the end of it, the administrator reminds me that when I registered on the site, I had to fill out a security form that included my name, date of birth, zip code, and private email address.

  “So, we’ll have that information on Peyton too,” she says. “I’ll discuss the situation with the people here and see what I can find out on my end. I’ll also look up the last time Peyton logged in. In the meantime, try not to worry. Often the people that engage on chat sites engage in several of them at once. Sometimes they just naturally gravitate toward the ones they find most helpful or enjoyable. Try not to take it personally.”

  “This isn’t about me. I just want to know that she’s okay.”

  “I can understand that, and I’ll see what I can do, okay?”

  “Okay,” I say, less than convinced.

  I click the chat room link and post a message:

  NightTerra: Hey, everyone. I’m looking for Paylee22. She hasn’t been on here in a couple of days (at least not that I’ve seen), and I just want to make sure that she’s ok. If you’ve recently seen her on here (or on other chat sites), or if you know anything about her or where she might be, please send me a private message. I’ve already alerted the Jane Anonymous administrators. Thank you in advance.

  TulipPrincess: Omg, you still haven’t seen her on here???

  RainyDayFever: Where is that girl???

  CityGirlSal: So weird. But, um, Paylee22 is a little weird too, right? #JustSayin’ #NotSoSurprised

  Cobra-head43: Paylee is always super paranoid. #ButSoAmI

  CityGirlSal: So, maybe she checked herself in.

  Cobra-head43: In where?

  Darwin12: I’ll bet you anything she’s taking a break by getting unplugged. We should all get unplugged … spend some time in nature, away from all things materialistic.

  Darwin12: We spend too much time trying to acquire, not taking advantage of what already exists.

  CityGirlSal: Um, ok? “No comment.” #IHaveComments!!!

  Cobra-head 43: I kinda like acquiring. It’s fun to buy. $$$$$ #ShitCollector4Life #GluttonyRules

  CityGirlSal: Omg. Lmao!!!

  While they continue chattering, I grab a notebook and write down all the personal details Peyton has shared, hoping at least a few of them are true.

  Name: Peyton

  Age: 22

  Location: Maine (a coastal town, known for having one of the oldest lighthouses)

  School: used to go to a community college (not sure where)

  Work: used to work at a yacht club across the street from the community college

  Homelife: lives with parents; younger brother Max died from heart issues when he was eight years old; doesn’t like to leave the house but goes out occasionally; sees a therapist weekly

  Taken: while on a hike (on a trail behind the comm
unity college). She’d been searching for an abandoned school when someone impersonating an officer approached her and put her in his car.

  I begin an online search for community colleges in coastal towns in Maine, where there’s also a yacht club across the street. Oddly enough, it doesn’t take long to narrow things down. Pineport, Maine, is known for having one of the oldest and most well-preserved lighthouses in the country. Pictures show it standing at the tip of a peninsula and painted with blue and white stripes. There’s also a community college in Pineport, located across the street from the Meridian Yacht Club.

  Bingo.

  I click on a link for the yacht club and search a staff photo for Peyton’s name. No luck. But maybe she no longer works there. All the times I’ve chatted about my shifts at the library … She’s never mentioned currently holding a job herself.

  I check the yacht club’s hours, then grab my cell phone to call the main number. A woman picks up right away. She sounds around my age.

  “Hi,” I say, wishing I’d rehearsed. “I’m hoping you can help me. I’m looking for someone who works there. Her name is Peyton.”

  There’s silence for several seconds, then, “I’m really sorry, but no one by the name of Peyton works at this yacht club.”

  “Maybe she no longer works there, but I’m pretty sure she did at one time—maybe eight or nine months ago. She is—or she was—a student at the community college across the street from your yacht club. I’m not exactly sure if she’s currently enrolled in classes.”

  “Is there something specific I can help you with?”

  “Do you know who I mean? Peyton,” I repeat. “She’s twenty-two. She went missing for a few days. Does any of this sound remotely familiar?”

  “Who did you say you were?”

  “My name is Terra, and I’m a friend of Peyton’s. I’m looking for her.”

  “Okay, well, obviously Peyton doesn’t work here anymore.”

  “Wait, so, you know who I mean, then? You know Peyton? Do you also know her famil—”