Take Me With You(102)

He smiles and nods many times. I can tell he’s doing so well. He has other kids to play with and even his balance and strength have improved. It’s humbling to accept that maybe I needed him around more than he needed me. He drags me to his friend, Thomas, who also seems to have cerebral palsy, but can still speak. He has a best friend. Someone like him. Someone who understands what he goes through every day in a way I can’t.

I toss the ball with Johnny and Thomas until it’s time for him to go to therapy. When I leave him with promises to return, he’s smiling. He’s safe. It was all worth it. No matter what happens to me, he’ll be okay.





The library is nearly empty during this time of day, so the librarian seems happy to help me when I tell her I am doing some research for a real estate class I am taking.

She is all too eager to assist me in pulling records, bound together into books several inches thick. My search begins for property owned by the Hunter or Ridgefield family. It would have to be large, possibly designated as farmland. Somewhere quiet. Isolated. It turns out there is a lot of land to go around in that family. There are many Hunters and Ridgefields and many generations of land ownership.

Hours later, I am able to narrow the field down to less than a dozen properties according to size and distance. But I need more detail. My stomach rumbles as I look up at the clock. I have to get back soon, Carter usually comes home late, but sometimes he arrives early and surprises me.

But I can sense how close I am to finding where I was held. Where I began to form a new life. Finally, I have an idea. The librarian points me to the maps section and I begin to scout the addresses. My idea is to see if any of them indicate bodies of water. I am a complete novice at this, and while the pond seemed enormous to me, maybe it doesn't register large enough to be depicted on a map. About five properties in, and my ingenious idea seems to be worthless.

I gnaw the tip of my pencil, and stretch my shoulders, which had gone tight and sore from hunching over maps and books with the coiled tension of a predator.

I search the map for the next location, 1021 Redwood Lane, Villa Buena, CA. I squeeze my eyes shut a few times, tired and blurry from scanning maps and real estate records, and as they refocus, I find it. I trace my fingers along the paper, and even though it's just flat shades of ink, it all feels so familiar. I try to figure out its boundaries, coordinating with the land ownership records, and that's when I see it, a pale blue irregularly shaped ellipse. Water. According to the scale on the map, it's about the size of what I recall my pond to be.

I don't even have to look at the other locations. I know. Suddenly I can see the layout. Using the weeks and months I counted the steps between my shed and the water, I can narrow down where I stayed, where the house likely is. Where the barn is. My heart punches against my chest, stealing my breath away.

It's real. This place is real. It had almost begun to feel like it had only existed in my mind. Even in this short time, parts had faded the way a dream does if you don't recall it instantly upon waking. With shaky hands, I pile all the books and documents in a messy heap, crumpling the map and sliding it into my bag.

I look up at the clock and gasp. It’s already eight o'clock. Carter's probably called the house twenty times and he's probably back. I run out of the library and speed home.

I open the door quietly, pretending my absence is nothing out of the ordinary.

Carter is on the phone, pacing back and forth, he whips around and pinches the bridge of his nose in relief when he sees me. “Never mind, she just walked through the door. Yeah. Okay. Okay. Bye.”

“Who was that?” I ask.

“Your mother.”

“Why would you call her?” I snap.

“I've been calling all day. The first day they pull the patrol car off this place and you take off. It took everything I had to wait and not call the cops before I could get home. And you're gone. No note, nothing!”

“I'm sorry, I lost track of time,” I say, tossing my bag, heavy with secrets, beside the door.

“Where were you?” he asks. The question annoys me more than I would expect. Ever since I returned, he's been more of a babysitter than a boyfriend and it's starting to wear on me.

“Do I have to report everything to you? I am an adult you know.”

“Last night, you held a knife to your arm and threatened to cut yourself. Then you disappear today. What am I supposed to think?”

“I wasn't going to cut myself,” I exclaim.

“That's not normal behavior.”

I snigger. Normal. Is he expecting me to be normal? “You're right. It's not normal. I'm sorry that my return is so inconvenient for you and everyone else. I am sorry I came back and upturned your lives. I'm sorry everyone has to accommodate my strange and unusual behavior. I am sorry this has all been so hard on you,” I lament sarcastically.

“Don't be like that, Vesp.”

“I wasn't ready for this. For any of this. I thought I would never see any of you again. I didn't know I was going back home until the moment it happened. So forgive me if I need a little bit of an adjustment period. And that includes some time to clear my head and not be looked at like I'm some unhinged person. I am not the one who did this!”

“That's not what I meant.”

“What have you sacrificed? What did you tell him when he asked you?”