Now I know where he is. Now I can be the one to find him. Now I can keep the promise for both of us.
I look at the mug shot one more time, drinking in every detail. I study the bruises, the exhaustion, the emptiness in his eyes that makes my heart break. I think about the boy who used to smile at me in the dark of our shared bedroom, the real smile that reached all the way up to his eyes and made me feel safe. I think about the way he held me after Henderson beat me, so gentle despite his own pain. I think about the last thing he said to me, standing at the bus stop with his broken arm cradled against his chest and tears he was trying so hard not to shed.
Remember my name, Ivan. Remember everything. We'll find each other. I swear.
I remember. I've always remembered. Every detail, every fact, every moment. I've carried them with me like precious cargo for years. And now it's my turn to keep the promise.
My turn to be the one who finds, instead of the one who's lost.
I look up the address of the bar where he was arrested. It's a place to start. Someone there might know him, might know where he lives, might be able to point me in the right direction. Bartenders know their regulars. Someone will know Jay. Someone has to know about the fight.
Tomorrow is Saturday. I'll go tomorrow.
The decision settles over me like certainty. I'll get in my truck, drive to Macon, and find him. I don't know what I'll say when I see him. I don't know if he'll even want to see me, if he'll be happy or angry or indifferent. I don't know anything except that I have to try. I've come too far, searched too long, hoped too desperately to stop now when I'm this close.
I close the laptop carefully and sit there in the dark for a long time, holding the laminated note against my chest, like it's something that can protect me from whatever happens next.
None of this is how I imagined it. In my dreams, he was happy. Successful. Surrounded by people who loved him. In my dreams, he opened the door and smiled that real smile and said my name like it was something precious. In my dreams, we hugged and everything was okay and the years apart melted away like they never happened.
It doesn't matter what I imagined. All that matters is that I found him and that he's alive. All that matters is that tomorrow, I might see him again.
I can't sleep. I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling and run through every possible scenario in my head until they all blur together. He's happy to see me. He doesn't recognize me at first. He's angry that I took so long to find him. He's the same Jay I remember. He's a completely different person now. He hugs me. He tells me to leave. He yells at me to go away. He slams the door in my face. He remembers everything. He's forgotten it all.
I don't know which one is true. I don't know anything except that I have to try, that I have to see him, that I have to know.
When the sun comes up, I'm ready to go. I've been dressed for hours, sitting on the edge of my bed in my jeans and jacket, waiting for the world to wake up. I grab my keys, my wallet with the laminated note still pressed inside, the piece of paper with the address.
I leave a note for Rosalyn on the kitchen table—Something came up. I'll explain later. Don't worry. —Ivan.Then I walk out to my truck in the early morning light, get in, and start driving.
Macon is two hours away. I drive with both hands on the wheel, my jaw clenched, my eyes fixed on the road ahead. The radio plays songs I don't hear. The miles disappear under my tires. My mind is already in Macon, already knocking on a door I haven't found yet.
I'm coming, Jay.After all this time, after all these years, I'm finally coming. Just hold on a little longer.
I find the bar first. The Rusty Nail. It looks exactly like its name suggests—run-down, shabby, the kind of place where people go to forget their problems or drown them. It's closed at this hour, won't open until evening, but I park across the street and stare at it anyway. Jay was here. Jay got into a fight here. Jay was arrested here.
I need to find where he lives. The article said he's from Macon, but that could mean anywhere in the city. I pull out my phone and search for "Jason Michael Morrow" with "Macon, Georgia" and "address." Nothing comes up. No white pages listings, no property records, nothing.
If he's the kind of person who gets into bar fights, maybe he's staying somewhere temporary. Somewhere cheap. I search for extended stay motels near The Rusty Nail and find half a dozen within a few miles.
I start checking them one by one to kill time before the bar opens. I drive to each one, park, go into the office, and ask the same question: "Do you have a guest named Jason Morrow? Or Jay Morrow?" Most of them won't tell me, citing privacy. One desk clerk takes pity on me, says I look desperate enough that she'll check. "No Morrow registered here."
I'm losing hope when I pull up to the Vista Inn. It's the kind of place that rents by the week, by the month. The kind of place where people live when they can't afford anywhere better. The sign is faded and one letter is burned out. The parking lot has more potholes than pavement.
I go into the office. The clerk is an older man with tired eyes. "Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for someone," I say. "Jason Morrow. Or Jay Morrow. Dark hair, about this tall—" I hold my hand up. "He might have some bruises on his face. From a fight."
The clerk looks at me for a long moment. "You a cop? Why are you looking for him?"
"No. I'm his brother. I've been looking for him. Please. If he's here, I just need to know. I just need to see him. I swear, I'm not looking to cause trouble."
Something in the clerk's expression softens. He looks at his computer, types something. "Room 237. Second floor, end of the hall."
Relief floods through me so intensely I have to grab the counter to stay upright. "Thank you. Thank you so much."
My God, he's really here.
I walk out of the office on shaking legs. I climb the external stairs to the second floor, each step feeling like it takes an eternity. The hallway is dim and smells like cigarettes and despair. I count the room numbers until I reach 237.
