True North (13 page)

“
No.”

“
Does he work in town?”

“
No again,” I answered.

“
So he isn’t geographically close?”

I looked at him with a what-are-you-getting-at expression.

“
Just wondering if I maybe stand a chance?”

“
This is my car,” I announced and unlocked the doors with the remote.

“
Am I feeling a definite maybe coming from you?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. But I didn’t answer.

“
I won’t worry about it … I know where you go to school. I’ll talk to you again in math class tomorrow.”

“
Yeah, you will,” I said, and Scott scooped me into a lingering hug. I hated to admit it, but it felt good to be held. And call it sadistic but I couldn’t help but imagine the arms around me were Jake’s. Yeah, I needed help badly.

“
Goodnight now,” Scott said, planting a quick peck against my cheek.

I got into my car and drove away, leaving him on the sidewalk, watching me go.

As I looked back through the rearview mirror I saw a single motorcycle headlight come up the road behind me then turn left at the cross street.

Why was I wishing?

Chapter 10

“
My Immortal”

Evanescence

It didn’t seem to matter how hard I tried to put my life back together or how many years it had been, I was never without Jake North, even though I had been alone for years now. How was it that he had been able to become such a part of me?

Smart girls didn’t wait forever for their crushes; they crushed, healed and moved on. I was certain that whatever happened, I’d never be healed
from
Jake or
without
Jake. When he was gone every pain and fear I’d ever had became more intense. My mother’s abandonment and my dad’s stoic absence hurt more … it was Jake that had held me through all of it, who wiped my tears and made me feel alive and safe and … loved.

J, you awake?

A minute later, bleep.

Yeah. What’s up?

What’s up?
That was loaded. It was one a.m. and I couldn’t sleep.

Just tell me.

No way! You made me promise!!!

When I’d gotten back to school I’d called Jules and told her I didn’t want to know anything about him and to promise that even if I begged and pleaded she’d say nothing to feed my addiction.

Go back on it!

Fuck that!

I’m going crazy! Please, put me out of my misery!!!

Liv, you’re my best friend. I can’t lose you over my brother.

She was still sore. She had the right to be, I’d waited a week after I left before I called her. We’d never gone that long without talking and she was freaked out.

I’m sorry, but I’m dying … please.

My Immortal dying?

I had just played “My Immortal” on loop for over an hour.

You know me too well.

Silence.

Her ring tone startled me.

I answered it.

“
If I’m going to tell you, you have to turn off the song,” Julia said.

“
What do I put on then?”

“
Oh, Liv, you’re crying!”

“
That’s usually what happens when you listen to ‘My Immortal,’” I crowed.

“
What do you want to know?” she asked, attempting to soothe me.

“
Everything.”

“
Just throw it all out there?”

“
JULES!”

“
Okay, but it’s not easy.”

That was the first hit. I felt a wrecking ball pummel through my gut.

“
He didn’t come home the night after Wild’s, or for two days after that either.”

A voice that sounded like it came from outside of me asked, “Where did he stay?”

“
None of us know. He just showed back up on Tuesday. We found him in the morning, raiding the fridge. He tried to act like everything was normal and we sort of played along, but he didn’t look right. He had these dark circles under his eyes and his expression was … I don’t know … empty. Like there was nothing going on behind his eyes. It was sort of scary. Then for two days he sat on the couch in the living room, drinking and watching TV until he passed out. But in the middle of the night he’d start to scream.”

“
What? What do you mean scream?” I pressed.

“
I mean blood curdling screams. Caleb and I raced to see what was wrong, but he was sound asleep. We kept away from him, afraid he wouldn’t recognize us at first if we grabbed him. So Caleb shouted his name really loud and I was … just … crying. He didn’t hear us. Caleb finally said, ‘Fuck this,’ and shook him awake.”

She started crying. “He asked us what we were all looking at and Caleb asked him if he was alright, told him it sounded like he was having a nightmare—but it really sounded like someone was killing him. He told us he was fine, got another beer and went back to watching the TV again—it was like four in the morning.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“
The next day he slept late then acted like nothing had happened. But every time a noise was made, like Caleb’s truck door slamming closed at lunch or when I dropped the mayonnaise jar on the floor, it’s like he jumped right out of his skin! And his hands shook real bad. Then during the evening he kept walking by the windows and looking outside. I asked him if he was waiting for someone, and he gave me a sideways glance but didn’t answer me.”

She went silent and I waited. I’d seen his hands shake at the club.

“
He left the next morning without so much as a note, and we haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

That was over two weeks ago!
“What about your mom and dad?”

“
They’re busy, what else is new? But they didn’t seem particularly worried. Caleb says Jake’s a big boy and it’s none of our business, but he’s totally lying. I heard him call everybody we know and ask if Jake was hanging out at their place.”

“
Did Caleb find him?”

More silence.

The silence answered for her. “Not even an email?”

“
No. We don’t know when he’s supposed to report back for duty either. I mean … nothing has been normal with him for a long time. It’s like I don’t know him anymore. He would hardly eat or talk to us at all either, and, Livie … I’m scared.” She sobbed into the phone.

Her crying made mine stop.

That’s when I started to pace. “I’m sorry, Jules.” It was so lame, but I didn’t have any comforting words to offer.
Everything will be okay
sounded like a condescending lie that even I didn’t believe at this point.

“
I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.

I didn’t either. So she cried as the wheels spun out of control in my mind. When we finally hung up there was only one word that described how I felt …

Powerless.

Three days of numbness. Three days of classes I didn’t pay any attention in. And one failed pop quiz. My English professor was so surprised he offered me a redo. I took the test again late that afternoon after school and passed with an A. I was really just going through the motions. Now instead of being just hurt and angry, I got to mix those into a toxic emotional tonic along with frightened and concerned.

Scott asked me out again, but I said no. I couldn’t deal with that too. But the next day I found a vibrant, single red rose in my backpack at math. It may have been stupid of me, but I pretended not to notice it. I had already said no and I didn’t want to be romanced. I wanted them to find Jake. That morning Jules sent me a text that Caleb, Nate and Josh had searched all around in a fifty mile radius for him. They even checked the National Park and bird sanctuary where he had taken me when I was there. No Jake.

My mom used to pray with me when I was little. I now hated praying because it made me think of her, but I was praying for Jake and kept asking God to bring him back home safely.

When class ended I went to my room to grab some food and put the rose in water—no need to let it die. Of course I checked my phone for any texts—nothing.

For weeks I’d been desperately trying to let go of Jake. Now it was quite the opposite, I was holding on desperately to any hope I could muster. I thought about what Jules had said about the way he was acting and remembered the night at Wild’s when he’d pulled me under the table and couldn’t stop shaking.

My fingers glided over my chest of drawers. I wanted what was in there. Was it a good idea? I’d taken it off and hidden it for a reason—a good reason. But without it close to my heart I felt even more broken; as if my whole heart was shattered. I pulled open the drawer and took out my Celtic knot, which I had wrapped and hidden in tissue paper. I fastened it around my neck.

He won’t talk, Nate and Jules had said. Why?

I sat at my desk, turned on my laptop and did what I should have done before. I was angry at myself for not having thought of it earlier.

I Googled—Afghanistan and the year. He had served several tours and I wasn’t sure exactly when or where he was, so I brought up several tabs and searched for Afghanistan articles from the Associated Press, the New York Times, the Huffington Post and other reliable sources for the year he’d stopped communicating.

That put me in mind of another thing—he had kept in contact his entire time at boot camp, through his graduation and training with Special Ops—even when he first got stationed in Afghanistan he’d called and Skyped. I remembered his automatic rifle behind him in the Skype session. I had asked if he was trying to prove to me how badass he was by letting me see it—I thought for sure he was—he laughed and said he was actually required to have it with him at all times.

I sorted through them, one picture and article at a time: broken demolished buildings; dirty, concrete strewn streets; victims of suicide bombs and gunfire; people lying in bloody puddles; people blowing themselves and everyone around them up in crowded marketplaces or safe zones; people—old, young, civilians and military, mangled and bruised; everyone carrying guns—angry and scared; everyone terrified and ready for violence; buses packed with civilians, blown up by rockets; people setting themselves on fire outside of the bases in protest; dismembered bodies of civilians; Afghan police left on the ground with their blood seeping into the dirt around them; so many of our soldiers dead, crippled or otherwise injured; drug use; war crimes; torture …

Pretend I never left…

I felt a tear slide down my face.

War was filthy. Jake had been in the middle of it for three years.

“
You make me remember who I was and who I wanted to be.” His mouth warmed my ear, tender but sensual. “Liv, I lost that guy.”

“
Let me help you find him.”

I hadn’t done a very good job of helping him find himself; instead I ran away with my tail between my legs, licking my wounds and feeling like it was all about me.

It all made me think, and I lugged my Intro to Psych text out of my pack. I knew what I was looking for. I wasn’t a shrink and had no intention of diagnosing him but all these
behaviors
sounded more like
symptoms.

I found the chapter on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD, and started reading. It all made perfect sense, like puzzle pieces falling into place.

“
Fuck,” I breathed into the air around me as I leaned my back against the chair.
Now what do I do?
He had been trying to open up to me the best he could, and I blew it, and I didn’t even know how to find him to make it right.

I closed my laptop and lay on my bed, picking up my mp3 player and scrolling to Seether’s “Broken.” If there was anything like telepathy … if I concentrated on him hard enough … would he be able to feel me?

“
Where are you Jake?” I asked aloud.

I tried not to panic thinking about Jake with PTSD. Some of the stories in my textbook and that I’d seen on the internet were so severe—people came back from Iraq or Afghanistan or even Vietnam for the matter and committed suicide because they couldn’t get a grip on the force of their emotions, some self-medicated, becoming alcoholics or drug addicts to ease what they felt, others got into trouble with the law. I’d even read of one vet that ran over the border to Mexico to one of the worst places he could find—a place that was overrun with drug cartel—so he could relive what he’d gone through in many ways. He couldn’t face normal society again. That was a huge similarity between most PTSD sufferers. And, to make it worse, most were embarrassed to seek out help because they didn’t want their commanders to label them as weak or cowardly. Most sickeningly, they had examples before them to solidify that fear into reality, where soldiers had sought help, were told to suck it up then spiraled out of control, getting themselves involved in crimes, violence or suicidal behavior. That led to the other fact that had scared me to death: that the suicide rate for military personnel was higher than that of the entire United States.

What if he …?
I squeezed my eyes as tight as I could and begged whatever god was listening to please bring him back to us safely.

I put “Broken” on repeat and then twined my fingers together, pretending it was really Jake’s hand, and that he was lying here next to me. I may have looked ridiculous but, somehow it was comforting.

I woke up in the middle of the night. The lights were out but, in the glow of the moonlight from the window, I saw Lara was asleep on her side of the room. My battery had died on my mp3 player. I stirred myself to use the bathroom and went down the hall to one of the shared bathrooms on our floor. When I came back I glimpsed the clock. Four-thirty a.m. No way was I going to be able to get back to sleep. It was only an hour earlier than when I usually woke up so I decided to get on my running clothes and hit the pavement to clear my mind.