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“I’m glad. He’s a great contact to have, Simon.”
“Yeah.”
He lets us stew in silence for a few moments before prompting, “Tell me more.”
“Just working my ass off, that’s all. It’s good, really.”
“Ok.” He lets it hang in the air, waiting on me to elaborate. When I don’t, he says, “I’m glad to hear it. No pressure, but I’m counting on you to be my success story. I’ve got my hands full with college applications now. Hoping we’ll have another graduate heading your way in September.” He chuckles. “Next September’s more likely. The talent pool isn’t too promising this year.”
“Oh, yeah?” I press, praying I’ll be rewarded with some mention of her name. “Who’s talking about Northwestern?”
“The only one who has a shot is a junior…Adam Brown. You know him?”
“No, doesn’t sound familiar.” What the hell? I know she has the grades to make it in here. “No one else?”Oh, fuck it.“Charlotte Mason isn’t looking to apply?”
“Ah…Charlotte moved. I didn’t know you two were…friends.”
“Moved?”
“You heard me right.”
Now I’m the one who goes silent as I process what he just said. “When did she move?” He gives me nothing. “Look, Mr. Vargas, I’m not asking you to break confidentiality or anything, I just want to know when…It’s important.”
“I believe it was a few weeks ago…near the end of September.”
“After the school year already started? Where did she go?”
“I don’t have that information. And even if I did, you know I wouldn’t be at liberty to share it with you.”
“I just…That’s weird, right? To leave a few weeks into the school year?”
“Well, it’s not typical but it happens.”
“So her family up and left? Sold their business?”
He sighs. “Simon…”
“I know, I know.” I take a deep breath, still reeling from the shock. “Mr. Vargas, can you do me a favor?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Please, can you just make certain that she’s all right?” He doesn’t answer. “Please?”
“Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
“I…I don’t know. I just have a feeling something’s wrong. Can you just do this for me?”
“You don’t have a way to contact her?”
Yeah, I could call her, but I’m an asshole.“No, sir, I don’t.”
“I can try to reach out to her. I’ll try, that’s all I’m promising.”
After taking my number, he ends the call. And I can’t wait any longer. Fishing my phone out again, my hands are trembling and my mind is racing as I struggle to remember the number I purposely didn’t put into my new contact list. It rings once before I’m hit with the standardno longer in servicemessage.
That night, the vision is devoid of shadows or murky details. Charlotte is there, clear as day. She’s looks to me with fear in her eyes before being pushed up against the brick at the rear entrance of the diner back home. I can hear her gasping for air and crying. He has her caged in with his body, pushing his face up into hers, one rough hand on her jaw. I growl and go to pull him off, but I can’t move my arms or legs. He turns around to laugh at me. I wake up with my heart pounding, mouth bone dry and pulling for breath.
The face that turns to laugh at me is my own. I am the one hurting her.
