Chasing William (15 page)

“I really don’t need anything.”

“Well, I could use a hot chocolate. How
‘bout I just get you one anyway and you can drink it if you want.”
She winks at me like she knows what I am thinking.

“I guess if you’re getting it anyway, it
wouldn’t be fair to let it go to waste.”

“Well, excellent.”

We both get our receipts and hot chocolate
and start walking back to our cars.

“My husband and I always looked forward to
winter so we could have an excuse to get the good, expensive kind
of hot chocolate. We waited all year so it would stay special and
make the cold days a little easier to take. Just one of those funny
little traditions you start after awhile. You don’t even really
realize it’s a tradition until you’re doing it by yourself.”

I pause next to my car door and finally
manage to look up at her without sarcasm or anger giving me
confidence.

“Does it ever get better?”

She smiles sadly, and shakes her head.

“It does get easier, though. You never
really move on like everyone claims you should, but you don’t have
to carry it with you all the time and you can leave it somewhere.
But you’ll always go back to it every now and then, and sometimes
it catches you off-guard .But it gets easier.” The woman wipes a
rogue tear away from her eye and takes a deep breath. “Here’s my
card. It has my e-mail on the bottom. Send me a message if you want
to talk. I know you need to get going now, but sometimes it helps
to know you aren’t alone.”

“Thanks.” It sounds a little lame, even to
me, but I try to smile before I get in my car and lock the door.
She’s right. Sometimes it does help to know you’re not alone, but
this trip is supposed to be all about me. Well, me and William.

I put the car in drive and finish up the
rest of my hour. The hard part has to be over now.

To:
William Davis

Message:
Will! I made it! Safe and
sound. I mean, I’m sure you know because you have the new ability
to watch over all the people you care about (I hope), but I thought
I’d let you know anyway. Already called my parents. They miss me,
but I should be back for Christmas. We got a mega-break this year
because we’re seniors and don’t have to take exams. You’d be
jealous. I’m pretty sure I’d be rubbing this in your face every day
you still had school. Hell, I might just do it anyway. Although
wherever you are, you’re probably thinking it’s better than here
and that I’m the one who doesn’t know what I’m missing. I keep
hoping I’ll get a Christmas miracle, the kind they make Lifetime
movies about, you know? Where it turns out you aren’t really dead
and you come back on Christmas and surprise me, and it’s just some
weird freak accident or you were working black -ops or
something.

I’m a little mad at you because you haven’t
come back to visit me as a ghost. I keep hoping maybe you’ll show
up and we can talk. I want to be able to say something to you, all
those things I never got a chance to earlier. Even just a dream,
where I get to be with you one last time, that’d be nice too. You
really fail at this whole “being a ghost” thing. I’d like to say
that’s a sign you’ve “moved on” or whatever, but that’s not how it
works, or maybe it is. I just figured you’d have something to say
to me before you left.

Oh well, I’ll keep hoping for some kind of
miracle anyway. I can dream, right? I’ll let you know how things go
tomorrow; I have to get everything charged and find a way to make
myself comfortable on a pull-out couch. You know how much I hate
sleeping in places that aren’t my bed.

“
Other people can never give
you things you have to find yourself.”

My goal for today is to meet William’s
roommates at the house he was living in. I’m not really sure how
that will help since he didn’t even sound that close to them, but
it was a part of his life, so maybe there’ll be something there
that can help. It’s a nice-looking rental house. The lawn is cut,
the place has been painted and maintained. It’s nothing special,
but it doesn’t look trashed either.

I double-check to make sure I got the
address right before I get out of the car. I’m not really sure what
I’m going to say. They aren’t expecting me, they don’t know me, I’m
not even sure if William told them I was his girlfriend. I still
force myself out of the car. I will myself up to the door. For some
reason, I don’t feel like William’s with me today.

“Hey.” Some guy opens the door a(and) just
stares at me. He doesn’t ask what I want or who I am, just stares.
I become acutely aware of how much I wanted, maybe even needed, a
plan to help me function in the world. And here I am in a strange
city, on the doorstep of a strange house, in front of someone who
has no idea who I am, with nothing to say. I want to just hand him
a Bible, tell him I’m a Mormon, and run. But I don’t have a Bible,
nor do I have a working knowledge of the Mormon faith, so I just
stand there looking awkward.

“You want something?”

He isn’t being rude, but he isn’t being nice
either. He must be a few years older than me, early twenties
probably. I don’t recognize him from any of the pictures William
showed me. I wonder if I have the wrong address.

“Um.” I hate how my voice goes all soft and
mousey when I’m nervous or don’t know what to say. At least that
makes me want to speak up. “I’m William Davis’s girlfriend. I think
he used to live here.”

“Oh, yeah. Not anymore. I’ve got his old
room. I think he moved back home.”

“Sort of. He’s dead.” I’ve never said it so
matter-of-factly before, like it was just a state of being and not
a tragedy. I don’t even start to tear up. I just say it like I’d
say, “My name is Christine, but I prefer Criss, not Cris, or
Tina.”

“Ah.” He steps to the side and opens the
door wider. I walk in, even though he hasn’t actually invited me. I
figure it’s implied.

“He relapse?” he asks as matter-of-factly as
I said “he’s dead”.

“I don’t know for sure. The detective said
it was a good possibility. She seemed pretty sure, you know once an
addict always an addict.”

“Sounds like my mom.” He gives a dark look
over my shoulder, like there’s someone standing behind me. “Don’t
know for sure, though?”

“I’m not sure I want to.”

“Yeah, I get that. I probably wouldn’t wanna
know either. Not like knowing’s gonna bring him back. I’m Jay, by
the way.” He shakes my hand and walks down a small hallway to a
room in the back. “This used to be his room, but it was cleaned out
before I moved in. Don’t think there’s anything of his left.” He
shrugs but invites me in anyway.

“It’s okay. I’m not even really sure why I
came here,anyway. I don’t know what I thought I’d find.”

“Nah, it’s fine. We’re all looking for
answers or some philosophical shit like that. But hey, if I run
into any of his junk that got left behind, I’ll let you know.” He’s
nice, but obviously wants me to leave. I understand that. This is
his room now, his house, his life. William isn’t here anymore.

“Thanks.” I turn to walk out and Jay doesn’t
walk me to the door. It’s so strange that something so
life-shattering to me can be nothing to him. I guess that’s how it
is, though. If Jay died, my world really wouldn’t change any. I
wonder why it had to be William? He wasn’t any worse than any other
addict in the world. But that’s a question people have been asking
variations of for years, and most people are probably glad it
happened to William and not their kid. It’s strange how humanity
works, isn’t it? Always glad it didn’t happen to us.

“Hey!”

I practically run into another one of the
guys heading back into the house from his car. This one looks
vaguely familiar.

“Sorry.”

“No, you look familiar. You’re Crissy,
right? Davis’s girl.”

“How’d you know?”

“Recognized you from your picture . He
talked about you all the time. It got fucking annoying. Nice to
meet you, though.” He smiles, and doesn’t seem concerned that I’m
this close to his house and William hasn’t been there for
months.

He slams the door shut, and I edge around
him to open it again. He doesn’t seem concerned that I’m leaving,
either, doesn’t ask about William or why I’m there. It’s not what I
expected at all. Nothing about Minnesota is what I expected.
William talked about me. That makes me smile, him being alive and
talking about me. I make sure to hold onto that memory as I start
up the car.

I’m not sure what else to do for the rest of
the day, it’s already late afternoon, so I just drive around town.
I guess I could go back to my aunt’s house and spend some time with
my extended family, but that would just lead to them asking all
sorts of obnoxious questions like: Why are you here? Who is this
guy you keep looking for? How did he die? Why did no one know you
had a boyfriend? How does this all make you feel? Are you going
completely nuts? All questions I’m not too crazy about answering.
I’m sure plenty of other people would ask me the same questions if
they could, but even if I wanted to give them answers, I’m not sure
I could. I don’t know what’s going on with me, I don’t know what
happened with William, and I have no idea if I’m still in my right
mind.

Instead of wasting time trying to figure out
the answers to the more difficult questions the universe is
throwing at me, I decide to focus on the one, almost universal,
question people ask themselves when they don’t know what else to
do: What should I eat? I don’t really want any more Chinese food.
I’m sick of it and I’m mad at fortune cookies, but it’s also the
only thing I can think of to eat. Sort of like when you say “don’t
think about something” and that something is all you can think
about. Well, when you tell yourself you don’t want to eat Chinese
food, Chinese food is the only thing you can think of to eat.

I remember William telling me about this
Chinese place he went to all the time when he was down here at
‘“That Place”’. Supposedly, they have the best food anywhere.
Strange, because you don’t really think of Minnesota as the Chinese
food capital of the world, but I guess everything’s a matter of
perspective. He said it was called “Sunrise Chinese”. Sounds like
it could be good, and it does come with a recommendation. I plug
the name into my GPS and follow the directions to a place that
doesn’t look anything like what William described. It’s another
stand-alone building, and it looks way too posh for me to go in
wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and quite possibly frost-bite (my mom was
right… it’s really cold up here). Still, if it’s the place William
loved, I might as well give it a chance.

I walk inside on a very lush green carpet
and have to wait to be seated. Not a good sign. The prices on the
menu aren’t as expensive as they could have been, but they’re not
exactly cheap, either. I order some sort of meat dish off the menu
and hope it tastes remotely like it sounds. I couldn’t even
pronounce the name of it, but luckily they have numbers to make
ordering easier. The place is full, but no one here looks like me.
Everyone is older and wearing suits, or at least dress clothes,
probably coming from work. I don’t feel like I fit in, the waiter
keeps giving me strange looks as he walks past my booth, and the
food really isn’t that great. I’m not sure what William was raving
about. This is ridiculous. He never would have liked a place like
this. At least, not the person I knew him as. I didn’t know
Minnesota William. Maybe Minnesota William liked places like
this,for some reason. Maybe I didn’t know him quite as well as I
thought I did.

At least they give me a fortune cookie along
with my enormous (for a highschool student) bill.

To:
William Davis

Message:
I met your housemates today.
The whole thing was really weird. They seem nice though, I guess. A
lot like you.

I did learn something kind of funny, though.
Apparently you talked about me so much it was “fucking annoying”. I
wish you were here so I could see your face. I can’t believe you
were one of “those guys”. Nonstop talking about your girlfriend…
I’m glad though. I think I needed to know that. I’m just glad other
people knew I was special to you. I was worried everybody would
think I was just some kind of weird stalker.

That’s kind of my fault(comma) though. I’m
the one who said we needed to keep it a secret for awhile. I’m glad
you didn’t. I’m really glad you didn’t. Then again, when do you
ever do something just because I told you to…(question mark)

Oh, I tried that Chinese place you were
always talking about. It wasn’t very good. I’m not sure why you
were always going on about it. I mean, it wasn’t bad, but it really
wasn’t great. I saved my fortune for you, though. It says “
You
will accomplish great things in time.”
You think it’s right?
Well, you’d probably say yes, but I’m not so sure. I’d say “I’ve
still got time,” we both know how untrue that is. We never know how
much time any of us have left.

I miss you. Tomorrow’s the big day. I’m
going to visit ‘“That Place”’. It feels like a big deal somehow.
Lend me some courage, Will. Love you.

P.S. This pull-out couch is not as
comfortable as I was promised. Oh well…

“
Asking yourself questions
about things you don’t know will give you no answers.”

I enter the address into my GPS. Something
about hearing that name called out so robotically, the name of
“That Place,” just seems strange. William didn’t talk about “That
Place” often. Sometimes I think he was even a little ashamed to
admit he had to go there, but when he did talk about it he seemed
happy. Well, maybe not happy, but content, like he knew he belonged
there because he wanted to get better. He told me that once, how
desperately he wanted to see that he had a future ahead of him. He
didn’t even ask for much. All he wanted was the chance to serve his
country. He’d always wanted to be a soldier. He wanted to go to
college, wanted to be a counselor to other guys going through the
hell he thought he was finally getting out of. But “That Place” had
failed him, or maybe he failed himself, or everyone else failed
him, or maybe he failed us. People talk about how everything
happens for a reason, even the things that seem too terrible to be
true. I don’t think I believe that. How could any world, any God,
really decide who deserves a second chance and who doesn’t? Why
doesn’t William get the chance to do good with his life while so
many people are out using their lives for the worst? Saying life
doesn’t make sense doesn’t seem to cover it.