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Gray
I have a special headache today, an aggravating, nagging pain that goes on and on until I’m afraid it will never leave me in peace. It’s called Avery. As if last weekend wasn’t enough, he demanded I come to campus today to review our interview notes and offer my final thoughts.
At the end of our discussion, he pulls out the shortest page of notes, just a few lines, and sets it on the table between us. I don’t have to ask who it belongs to.
“So, did I win the bet or not?” he asks, subdued.
“Do I have an intern?”
“No.”
“There’s your answer.” The question comes out before I can stop it. “How’s he doing?”
“I haven’t seen him in class. He emailed and said he caught a cold swimming in the waterfall.” He fidgets with the page. “Why did you—”
I stand up. “I congratulate you on a bright, accomplished class of students. Don’t ruin them.” Offering him my hand, I make my way out of his office before he can say anything else.
Now I’m turning up my coat collar against the biting wind, trying to remember the way across campus to my car.
“Mr. Freeman?” Jonah’s redheaded friend appears behind me, fidgeting with his textbooks. He looks pale, with dark circles under his eyes.
“Can I help you?”
“Did you see Jonah on your way here?”
Too many thoughts all at once.Why does he think I’ve seen Jonah? Did Jonah tell him something?But most of all, more fiercely than I would have imagined possible:Is Jonah alright?
“I haven’t, sorry.”
“Oh.” He hangs his head, digging the toe of his shoe into a crack in the sidewalk. “Can I give you my number so you can call me if you see him?”
His name comes back to me. “Elliott, right?” I take his elbow and steer him under the protection of the nearest building. “I need you to be clear with me. Is Jonah missing?”
Elliott nods slowly, his lower lip trembling a little. “I think he might be. What should I do?”
I almost turn around in the ridiculous hope that he’s talking to some kind of qualified adult standing right behind me, the person who’s going to take charge here. Because I have no fucking clue.
“When did you last see him?” Surely it’s a misunderstanding, Jonah coming home from the gym late or getting distracted on his way to class.
“Sunday night after the retreat. He was gone when I woke up Monday morning. Sophie and I have called him a hundred times, but he hasn’t answered.”
Fourdays. Jesus Christ.
At my expression, Elliott starts hyperventilating. “I should have told someone sooner, shouldn’t I? I’m so sorry. I kept waiting because I just couldn’t believe he would…”
I squeeze his shoulder, suppressing the urge to shake him. “Did he seem off when you got back?”
He nervously unspirals the wire binding of his notebook, bits of shredded paper dropping to the sidewalk. “His interview didn’t go well, did it? And he ended things with Soph. I think he took it all pretty hard.”
My hand drops to my side as I stare at him. All I can come up with are worst-case scenarios, the darkest possible timelines, and to think that Avery and I might have caused it?
“Should I call the police?” he asks faintly. The words make me sick; they’ll put his picture on the news, interview witnesses, call his parents. The stuff of nightmares. I don’t have an answer.
“Give me your number and I’ll call you in a few hours, alright? Where does he usually spend his time?”
“I’ve already checked everywhere, but I’ll give you our dorm address. Our grocery store and gym and laundromat are on the same block.”
“Go to your next class and try not to worry. I’ll be in touch soon. I think everything’s fine.” He drinks up the lie like a plant in the desert, nodding as if a few extra years of life gives me some kind of power to make the world a safe place.
