The Missing Boy
In the evening, Thomas must meet with a group of friends at the University campus. It was a stressful day, and he wanted to take a shower and then watch shows while eating leftovers from last night. However, he dressed fine, well enough on a Friday afternoon, wearing sweatpants with a button-up shirt. For which he pressured himself to wear at least today, making today less stressful to conquer. And since no assignments were due this weekend, his little brothers at their grandfather's, he went to his room and read a book, letting his phone charge while he knew his friends were asking if he was still coming.
His mother was out shopping, and his father wouldn’t be back until 6; practically, he thought, I could go anywhere and come back, and they wouldn’t even know I left. He lifted his phone and found it filled with messages asking where he was. He then flipped a page in his book, and without reading exactly what was written, he thought, I could be thinking about how I might die or how I fantasized about my father falling off the roof at his work. Is it enough, though, to keep busy with things like that?
With sudden anxious notice, he softly set down the book on the bed and became aware of how quiet it was. He expected someone to call his name in the apartment, or tell him to take the trash down. He got up and went into the restroom, then went to the kitchen pulling out the trash bag and tying it as best he could. He remembered his mother leaving her plates and cups in her room; I should make a note to put those in the dishwasher later, he thought dreamily, and maybe do a bit of sweeping.
He slipped on his shoes without socks and grabbed his keys, went outside in the hall making sure to lock the door behind him. I must include the thought my mother knows that I locked the door without leaving after doing my chores.
He headed towards the stairs, and while going near the garbage outside, Mr. Clane stood by the dumpster dumping his trash in.
“Hello, Mr. Clane”
“Hi Thomas”, Mr. Clane said with a small smile.
Thomas responded as softly as he could, surprised at how well he did it, usually having to resort to small talk which annoyed him when talking to Mr. Clane.
“Are you going anywhere today?” Mr. Clane asked nicely.
“I'm going to clean the apartment for a bit, then maybe go to campus”, Thomas said proudly, realizing how good he is to have something to do.
The orange sun was bright, and the longer Thomas stared at Mr. Clane, he noticed how authentic the sunlight brushed against his hair. He's a well-built man; well groomed, and keeps a small ring on his finger - not a wedding ring, a men's accessory of some sort. “Where’s your father?” Mr. Clane asked suddenly.
Thomas started facing the entrance to the apartment when he responded. “He’s at work and doesn’t get off until 6. But, I'm pretty sure he will stay longer than that.”
“He always does,” Mr. Clane said.
Thomas says a gentle goodbye, and starts heading back into the apartment, when realizing terribly: Oh damn it, do I need to get started on the dishes, or can that wait?
A few minutes later, he texted his mother while heading toward campus; his phone was dirty, and he wiped it harshly as he made his way out the door. Tonight was very vacant; he was thinking of taking the longer roads going near his old high school. For some reason, the high school in his mind seemed nicely effective going by; the nice adventure of tonight as he continued down the street. Carefully spotting a few cars parked in front of the school, he wondered who was there at this time.
By now, my father would see that my truck was gone, he thought, knowing I was driving away from home, nearly close to the university campus. Would he care to text me to ask how far I am; where I am exactly? He comes to a stoplight and looks out the side windows, and the depths of darkness bring anonymous dread.
Mr.Clane, he thought suddenly, he would start questioning where I am; if I might make it back safely. The light turned green, and as gently as he could, he pressed the gas pedal. My friends at the campus are wondering if I'm even coming; this car can go so slow, that anyone who’s waiting for me to arrive is gonna start thinking I ran away. He spots ahead the street that leads to the middle of town and a sign near it, ‘Blue Lake: NEXT STOP’; now, would I want that to happen? But leaving home - crossing over a bridge above Blue Lake the moon sprinkles along the water - that’s only for boys that are afraid of themselves. Wait, that's right - that's only for boys who are afraid of their fathers; now I'm not afraid - why would I be? Coming home is the number one thing I think of every day: lying on my bed, listening to my mother cook, watching my brothers play with their toys, and waiting until dinner is ready. I could go up into my room and eat there, play in my room all I want. Nowhere is nicer, he thought proudly. I know my father is definitely worried; probably looking for me, wondering where I am at night. Thinking of it, should I run away?
He turned off the road and onto the parking lot of the university, and the fear of how he dressed came horribly; he thought if he had time to go back and change, he could wear his new shirt bought at the mall last weekend. Mr. Clane, he thinks, gathering where to park, afraid to break some rule he’d be unaware of; if Mr. Clane saw what I was wearing tonight, he would’ve probably told me to change, sharpen up. I have to be ready for any troubling conversations my friends might bring up; they are probably planning to trap me with their opinions right about now. Well then, it's decided; I won’t say anything; I’ll just go in and smile, hug everyone, and sit and nod. He parked outside the dorm buildings, all surrounding the lot, creeping over. Anyone who says otherwise will be blocked. And by that, Thomas was surprised to have his phone in his hand texting them which dorm building to enter. He hopped out of his truck and checked his surroundings, made way to the dorms by first going around a field of grass, and trees that fluttered and shadowed the sidewalk like flies. His phone vibrated and he dug in his hoodie pocket and opened the home screen. He saw in a small notification a message reading, “We are heading to Andrew's dorm. The guys said to meet him there,” he clicked off his phone and immediately started speed walking.
He decided stubbornly not to take the elevators and instead came up through the stairs, feeling foolish to be conscious of how often he does this. For example, taking unnecessary routes through dark tunnels or stairs to have something, or someone coming out and saying hi; and yet, this somehow would’ve been the most exciting thing about this week for Thomas. He would go home, rest, and finally get an answer that he’s here, walking around other real people; and right now, something is telling him to run away, run away at once.
I could mention to my friends at some point that I was afraid to meet up with them; when the time came to argue with them, I could finally tell them I was afraid and that there was evidence to back it up.
Anticipating himself, he arrived on the 3rd floor of the dorm, and once, when he opened the door to exit the stairwell, a group of scurrying girls came through, holding hands, giggling as they looked up and down and continued to laugh, rushing down. And soon, he thought curiously; I started to worry if any guys out there would hurt them, grab them, and take them away from here. He giggled and looked for the room number when he heard, “Hey Tom, over here.” Thomas turned around and saw one of his friends, Andrew, peeking his head out, using his hand to call him over. Then out of nowhere, in great terror, he thought, maybe those girls should be taken away. “How are you tonight?” Andrew asked as he placed his phone in his pocket.
“It's been good: working hard as always,” Thomas said, placing his phone in his pocket.
Entering, Natalie and Stephanie picked different spots, and the whole place looked like an apartment rather than the standard dorms other side of campus, Thomas couldn’t tell which one wanted anyone near them and which one was waiting to talk to anyone; it never made me so angry to finally see other peers wanting the same things I want, he thought nicely. Andrew strolled and announced Thomas was here. He probably stood there looking foolish, probably they could tell that I knew I didn’t know why I wanted to be here. So quickly, Thomas said out loud, “It looks nice in here, Andrew.”
Andrew looked back, nudged the drink he carried with his finger, and asked, “What do you mean?”.
“Usually some dorms are all dirty. But this looks nice.” Andrew doesn’t say anything and nods.
Then Stephanie, sitting near Natalie holding hands, said defensively, “You must've not been around ‘dorms’ before. Do you go to college?”
Natalie nudged her and said, “Stephanie, not right now, quite poking fun.”
“Exactly”, Thomas said strictly. I never expected that, he thought, she probably is afraid too; Hate crime would be the first thing we need tonight, something to actually make us afraid.
Thomas sat on the left of the room watching Stephanie pull her hand away from Natalie, get up, and go to Andrew and stand by him. “How long will it take for the rest of the guys to get here?” Thomas said to Andrew, cautiously turning to Natalie.
Andrew then spotted Stephanie standing near him, and with him being the only one standing up, he started to wonder if he should’ve had planned this hangout anyway, then felt bad once he responded, “Text them, and ask them to get here faster.” He then poured a drink for Thomas and himself, never bothering to ask Stephanie, as her face already said no.
All three then heard a knock at the door and when Andrew opened it, a group of friends from senior high school walked in holding their arms out, smiling, and showing excitement to be there; Thomas quickly stood stiff and thought, they know I'm here now, and now I can’t leave because they know I’m here. When one of the boys acknowledged Thomas, he stepped forward and gave them a hug like how his dad hugs his other families at gatherings, and wondered if he did it right. Later, they showed drinks and seemed proud that they did, all while Thomas went over to Natalie, and she whispered in his ear, “One of them has a crush on you,” and winked with a mischievous smile. Thomas was relieved; he knew one of them was fond of him but thought it was just their way of expressing jealousy, or maybe they were mad that my parents let me go out at night. And I don’t know what it is, but something is telling me to go home now; it said, ‘We have to go… we need to get away right now!’
Each knock came and more friends, some; if Thomas was being honest, he’d forgotten most of them, coming in stupidly looking harsh and fresh, and Thomas tried keeping himself humble and wise, remaining still and not laughing too much or over-relying on just smiling. It was not as if he’d be getting anywhere with this sort of attitude, but it did, however, take his mind off the edge for a bit. I thought I look well, he thought; searching through the place for a cup, he decided to take a drink of what they brought, though Natalie, when she saw him take his fourth cup, immediately came up to him and said, “Tommy, I don’t think that is a good idea,”. Then added nicely, “Make sure to tell me when you're ready so I can take you home.”
Her voice came so suddenly that Thomas barely realized how close she was to his face, and in fact, he wondered how long he’d been staying in the dorm. When that conscious focus came to him, the fear that he thought was gone came back and was heavier than ever. It said, go home now, go home right now! How will I get back, he thought; maybe I could ask Natalie - who's the guy that has a crush on me, maybe he can take me home; his type is always nice to be around when you need help.
He laid his cup on a table, looked at his phone, and saw it was getting close to midnight. He never realized how fast time can get when not paying attention. He walked to Andrew and told him that he needed to get back home, and decided to tell the rest he was gonna go for a walk and completely snuck out the door, making sure he didn't run into those girls again as he took a different set of stairs on the other side of the building. It feels fun to feel like I'm going behind their backs, but no matter how often it feels to do this type of sneaking around, I did wonder if anybody would even care to follow me. He stalked the rest of the stairs down, and a strong headache started to loop around his mind; he later thought he better have aspirin in his bedroom next to his book, but he wouldn’t be fully sure until he got home. He arrived in the parking lot but couldn’t find his truck; he then forgot his keys in the dorm and felt too heavy to go back up the stairs, so he went ahead and started walking down the sidewalk.
If I go home right now, he thought, my parents would see that they can’t trust me again to be out after dark, maybe spark an idea to take my keys. Turning around and seeing the buildings, lit with yellow frames, he turned around and followed the trees. It wouldn’t matter; I won’t be able to remember where my car is now and I still won’t remember then. Meanwhile, he looked down each road that had stores and more houses sitting in rows that go into curves and darker paths, and he could vision where these roads led because of how similar they looked; by small glimpses he imagined himself living in a farmhouse with chickens and dogs, a wide space and large grass with plenty of friends to be around. They will all come to my house and my parents wouldn’t mind a bit because they would be too busy taking care of the farm.
As he stumbled further away the sidewalk seemed to repeat and his headache started to get clearer the further he went, and the streetlights above buzzed annoyingly when he went under them. He noticed that his phone wasn’t in his pocket, and thought, that's right, I told them I was going for a walk and here I believed it too. His walk became stubborn when a cold breeze came through from the dark, and near his face as a leaf scratched it slightly. It came so suddenly that he thought some man was pecking his cheek and he quickly flinched away, the result ending with his hands scratched and his headache getting worse. Mr. Clane, he thought suddenly, he’s probably wondering where I am, looking out the window and is probably calling my mother. I could imagine him picking up the phone in a hurry, and my mother with her sorry hands and hair, picking up the phone at the apartment hoping it's me calling to say ‘I ranaway,’ and now she would feel bad because Mr. Clane is more worried than her - how sad that would be. Somehow Thomas ended up standing hopelessly at the end of a street, looking around like a lost kitten calling for their mother. He then heard himself say, “let's go to the lake and stand there, maybe that would help release some stress.” And so, he started walking down the path in the nearby woods seeing nothing but what the moonlight could give him.
When he arrived at the nice lake, its reflection sparking the moon in a nice hue, he stood near its cold edges and began to feel better; his headache gone, and slowly started to forget Mr. Clane, and his parents. And, in the fleeting peace, he jumped.
But, however, Mr. Clane slowly grabbed him, and took him home, his dark figure holding him as they flew above the ground. “Is it true, Mr. Clane? Will this all become real later?”
