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I needed to know.
Emily hadn’t responded to a single email. As soon as I got to the place we were staying in Costa Rica, I sent her an email about my phone.
My phone is completely dead and getting zero service. I’m not ignoring you, I swear, I wrote, already feeling anxiety. I emailed my parents the same and got an immediate response, so I know the connection at our place worked.
I checked my email religiously, every morning when I got up, and I would get the occasional one from my mom and stores that had my email from when I bought something.
I never saw the email I really wanted to see.
When I got home, I asked my stepdad and mom if she had called, and they said no. She’d disappeared completely. Even the number I have for her was wrong. Turning my room and luggage upside down, I found the scrap of paper in her handwriting with her number and email. I double-checked the email, and I’ve been sending it to the right one. I tried her number, but it wasn’t working.
A part of me couldn’t believe it was over. I wanted to know why. I felt crazy showing up in her town, but once I got my answer I would move on.
I knew the words we said to each other the last night we were together were real. That’s why her silence was so goddamn loud. I never dreamed she would disappear without a goodbye.
My phone never recovered. Once my parents picked me up from the airport, I brought it to the store, and all the employee could say was “I’m sorry, man, this phone is done.”
“I need to know if someone called. Left a voicemail.”
“Nah, man, this phone is completely fried. You’ll need a whole new everything.”
The phone number I had no longer worked, and I couldn’t find her in the USC system when I checked, but I knew she would be home already for Thanksgiving break. I just didn’t know where to look. I had been to her parents’ house exactly once and didn’t remember how to get there. My only hope was that she was in town, walking around with family or friends.
When I got out of my car, I pulled my coat tighter, my breath visible when I exhaled. Small patches of snow littered the ground, and I bounced as I walked to create more warmth. During the summer, Emily had worked part-time at the Goldmine Bakery in town, so that was my only weak lead. I was hesitant to call when I couldn’t get ahold of her. What if she honestly didn’t want to talk to me?
The bell clanged when I walked in, and a few people stood, waiting for their orders. I said excuse me several times as I weaved in and out before I reached the cashier.
“Hi, I’m looking for Emily Finch,” I said. Please know her. Please tell me where I can find her.
“She’s not here. May I help you?”
“I’m looking for her. Do you know where she might be?”
The employee looked up. “I don’t know, home, I guess?”
“This is going to sound weird, but can I get her address?” I asked, cringing as it came out.
“Sorry, we don’t give that kind of information out.” She looked at me like I was a stalker.
“Thought I’d try.” I hesitated and then blurted out, “Is she…happy?”
The employee nodded with a pursed bottom lip. “I think so. Yeah, I think she’s doing great.”
My falling smile didn’t disarm this employee, who became even more alarmed. I ordered a coffee and a donut for the employee’s time and watched as customers retrieve their orders and filter out. My eyes scanned everyone who walked by, looking for anyone who might look like Emily or the brother I met once, Cameron.
After my order was called, I left with a cup and a white bag in hand. Where would she be? It felt weird to be hanging out in her town just in case she made an appearance, but that’s all I had to go off of. All I wanted to know was if she was happy, and I got that. But I needed to see it, to truly know.
I saw my breath, but I walked to the gazebo, already decorated with garlands and unlit twinkle lights for the holidays, and sat. Slim benches lined the inside of the structure and I sat down, although there was wetness seeping through my pants. After I finished my donut, I watched people walking by.
Did I read our relationship completely wrong?
When we met at the snack bar at the lake, our connection was immediate. I bantered with her over Diet Coke, we created inside jokes deeper than I’d ever had with lifelong friends, and we were finishing each other’s sentences by the end of the third day. Whenever I was with her, I couldn’t stop touching her—the small of her back, her leg if we were seated next to each other. It was crazy, but I fell and fell hard. Doing a dental medical mission to Costa Rica was my dream, but I should’ve never gone.
Because I lost her.
Maybe she was never mine to begin with.
Time passed slowly, but I still lost track of it. Shivers ran through me and my teeth chattered as I watched folks walk by. In the distance, I saw a poof of brown curls sticking out from a crème-colored hat. It was a flash, but I stood up, my coffee spilling over the side, creating a steaming brown spot in the snow.
