That night, I lay awake for a long time and hear a coyote howling in the desert through the wide-open window.
So many things run through my mind. Dreamy words, the truth about River, his blood-red words on the piano, Chester, Jack, and John. The idea of never speaking again and forever remaining a victim.
River lies next to me on the bed, but he doesn’t touch me. As I listen to his breathing, I think of his lonely childhood, and the comparison to Peter Pan comes to mind. He’s much more like Peter Pan than a fallen angel. And maybe I’ll be his lost girl, and we’ll travel to Neverland together.
I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore, only that I’m scared. The carefreeness of the first few days has been wiped away. Something is hovering over us—not only River’s family but also something dark rising from within him. Was his father referring to this darkness when he said River was insane? But it’s so intangible. It’s only a notion, like a black aura surrounding him as he shines ever brighter.
The coyote howls again.
I look out the window at the starry sky. The Swan spreads its wings wide, surrounded by a handful of diamond-clear stars and the white band of the Milky Way. Star-milk-white. Star-graveyard.
Above the blanket, River reaches for my hand and holds it tightly. He doesn’t say a word, nothing.
It’s unimaginable, but despite the truth between us, something still draws us to each other—perhaps even stronger than before. Maybe, especially because we’ve both suffered at the hands of his family that we just had to find each other.
After a quiet breakfast at the motel’s fast-food joint, I turn my cell phone back on in the room. I can’t believe it works. When I look at the display, I’m almost shocked—over two hundred calls and messages. I’d like to turn it off again right away, but I have to text Dad to let him know I’m okay, and I also need to know if he’s called the police.
I nervously click on the last message from Dad. It’s a voice memo.
“Kansas...are you okay? What happened that you can’t come home anymore?” His voice sounds heavy with grief and so incredibly tired, as if he hadn’t slept for days. He takes a deep breath. “Are you afraid, after everything they... what’s being said about you? Who are you with now? Chester says you’re sending him messages and pictures every day. Pictures designed to make him jealous. He says you even had a thing with his best friend... Kans, I don’t know what else I can do.”Yes, you never know,I think with a hint of sarcasm, but I still have a sinking feeling in my stomach because he sounds so desperate, and because Chester is obviously still making up some story about me.
I interrupt the memo. It’s extremely lucky because, as long as Dad supposedly hears signs of life from me—from someonehe “trusts”—he won’t go to the police. I think that’s exactly why Chester is doing it, so the police don’t get involved in the matter, just in case everything actually comes to light for whatever reason. For a few seconds, I imagine what it would be like if all his lies were exposed. Could I go back then? Would I be safe? Would he go to prison? What he did was assault and so much more. He blackmailed me by threatening to have a whole bunch of boys rape me if I didn’t go to bed with him. He could maybe be charged. But then I think of his father and his grandfather, who is a senator. No one would believe my story, and all his friends would lie for him. I have no witnesses.
Nevertheless, Chester seems worried, or he wouldn’t continue to give my dad false information.
What could Dad tell the police? My daughter is missing, but she’s probably just in bed with some guy somewhere. Ha! He’d sooner die of shame.
I let the memo continue:“Kansas, whatever it is that’s keeping you from coming home, get in touch! We can definitely work it out... Or are you staying with her?” I hear him swallow. “Are you with Mom, Kans? You know... I called her, but... her manager keeps brushing me off. Are you with her? Or are you with that guy in the photo?” There’s silence for a few seconds. “I’ll wait another day. If I don’t get any messages from you, I’ll call the police. James doesn’t sleep anymore. I don’t sleep anymore. Arizona rarely leaves the house; she just cries a lot... it reminds me of the time when... when Mom... when your mother left.” He sighs deeply. “Get in touch.”
Mom. He mentioned her—voluntarily. My heart beats hard in my chest. I still can’t imagine the three of them. Arizona sitting in my room crying? James doesn’t sleep anymore? Dad isn’t sleeping?
My family has never been closer to me and yet so far away at the same time. I don’t even feel a hint of satisfaction that they’redoing so badly, even though I secretly wished they cared about me.
I briefly look at the date of the memo. It’s from yesterday, so Dad will go to the police today and officially report me missing. I can’t believe he would actually do that, after what he’d have to tell them.
For some unknown reason, I listen to the memo again. “Kansas, whatever it is that’s keeping you from coming home, get in touch! We can definitely work it out...”
I don’t know why, but I think of the words of that Golden Gate jumper—that everything that previously seemed irreparable suddenly seems repairable.
Thoughtfully, I take a photo of myself and smile slightly into the camera. I send it to my dad and write,I’m doing well. I’m on the road with a boy named...I stop myself because it occurs to me that I don’t even know River’s real name now because he’s definitely not called River.River, I still add.I lost my charging cable and my battery died, otherwise, I would have contacted you. I didn’t want you to worry. Kansas.
PS: Tell Arizona I love her.
I delete the last sentence because it doesn’t seem honest to me. Yes, I love my sister. I love James and Dad, even though it’s a strange, sterile love with Dad and me. Maybe at some point, it might even work again, but not yet.
What’s your name?I type now on the keyboard of my cell phone and hold it out to River after he emerges from the bathroom.
River, he writes back, pulling me into a hug.
Exactly five minutes after I sent my message, Dad sends me a voice memo. His voice sounds rough, and he claims he has acold, but I think he’s been crying. He says he’s incredibly glad I got in touch, and he doesn’t even sound angry. He’s probably just so relieved to hear from me that he’s forgotten his anger. “Kans,” he says at the end of the memo. “Come back. Come back home.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Even if you don’t believe me, we will find a solution. Definitely...” There is a long, long pause, and then, “I love you.”
For a moment, my heart is completely still, as if all sentiment has flown away. A few seconds later, it warms up.
I hate to admit it, but his words touch me without meaning to. I try to close my mind to it, but an I love you is hard to keep from my heart. It leaves a wound in me that feels good, even if it seems paradoxical. I wonder, though, why he only remembered that now, after I ran away. I’d love to ask him where his love was hidden all those years and months ago and if he’s ready to believe me and fight for me if necessary. But I just put the phone back in my pocket.
This morning, River uses Chester’s money to buy an old Yamaha—something between a moped and a motorcycle—as well as two helmets so that we no longer have to rely on the bike. Before we leave the motel, he stops at the door and looks at me seriously. “I hate my family, Tucks,” he says suddenly. “The night I wrote that on the wall, I left forever. Until recently, my parents didn’t even know where I had been all this time. They don’t know anything about me... And Ches,” he sighs, “he’s become more and more like my father. He’s... I don’t even want to imagine what he did to you...” He swallows and takes my fingers. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here. That’s all I can offer you.”
I nod and squeeze his hand. That’s more than enough, I think, and I’m firmly convinced that he can interpret that from my touch.
