You'd Be Home Now (84)

“I don’t think I’m compelling enough to pull off the density of Henry James onstage, Daniel.”

“Oh, I think you’re compelling enough.” He grins.

I look at Jeremy. “Have you…”

He shakes his head. “No, I haven’t heard from Luther. I’m not going to, Emmy. I’m sorry.”

    I check my feeds to see if anyone has commented on my posts about Joey.

Nothing. A few people responded when I first posted, about seeing someone who maybe looked like him down by Frost Bridge, or by Hank’s Hoagies, and my dad and I drove around, but we didn’t see him. Some people just make rude comments, but I delete them. Joey’s eighteenth birthday has come and gone. My mother and father haven’t mentioned it, and I don’t want to tell my friends, because they’re trying to be supportive, but it’s a hole inside of me, this feeling that Joey has slipped far, far away from us.

I lay my phone carefully back on the bed, make sure the volume is up, so I can hear it in case he calls or texts.

“You should do something,” Liza says. “Anything. You used to play piano. Play something.”

“I haven’t played in a long, long time,” I tell her. “I’m not near ready enough for that.”

“Simon said you could write something yourself, didn’t he?” Daniel scratches Fuzzy’s head. Fuzzy has a thing for Daniel, I think.

“Yeah.”

“Well, what would you write about?” Liza asks.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what are you feeling?” She picks some pepperoni off her slice and pops it into her mouth.

“I’ve never understood that,” Daniel says. “You’re literally eating a slice of pepperoni pizza, which has the pepperoni on it, yet you take off the pepperoni and eat that separately.”

“You eat your pizza your way and I’ll eat my pizza my way,” Liza tells him. “Emmy, what are you feeling?”

    “I’m feeling…a lot. Too many things. I miss Joey. I’m worried about Joey. I want Joey to come home. I’m worried about my parents and I’m mad at my parents. I’m mad at myself for messing up with Joey. Not doing better. I miss Gage, in a weird way, not because of liking him, but because I miss…I miss being touched. Everything was messed up about that situation, but I needed it. And I think that makes me like Joey, that I let it go on, even though it wasn’t healthy, because I just wanted to feel better. And I’m mad that I got called a slut for that, but I’m also weirdly happy you came up with the idea of Hester Prynning the school, because I feel less alone. I’m mad that Lucy Kerr called Joey a druggie and a loser.”

Liza puts down her pizza slice.

“Then write that.”

“What? No.”

“No,” says Daniel. “She’s right. Write something like that. A monologue. A poem.”

“People will think I’m a freak,” I protest.

“Trust me, you don’t really have anything to lose at Heywood High at this point,” Jeremy says. “People have seen you naked.”

I give him a look.

“I mean, not me,” he says quickly. “I would never.”

“I looked,” Daniel says.

“Are you kidding?” I ask him.

“Sort of,” he laughs. “I deleted it before I got a good look. I promise. It’s all a blur, really. A very pleasing blur.”

“Enough,” Liza says. “Write it. You like poetry. Do it like that.”

“I like poetry,” I say. “I don’t write it.”

“I might be able to help you with that.” Liza smiles.





38



This is my brother Joey Ward. He’s been missing for ten days. He was last seen at Hank’s Hoagies on Main Street in Mill Haven. He was wearing an orange shirt. His hair has been longer. He may be confused or disoriented because of drug use. If you have seen him, please let me know. Joey, if you are reading this, please come home. I miss you. I love you. I am going to be at Heywood High tomorrow night at 8 p.m. if you want to come there. Please let me help you.



I CAN’T SLEEP AFTER POSTING. I lie awake, looking at the ceiling, all sorts of images of Joey running through my head. Joey lying in the woods, high or hurt. Joey wandering in the streets somewhere, shivering in the cold. Did he have his hoodie when he went to Hank’s for his shift? What if he’s not warm enough?

What if…

I don’t want to think that last thought. That one makes my stomach twist into a ball of fire. I jump out of bed and make my way downstairs.

My dad is in his den, standing by his printer. Flyer after flyer shoots out with Joey’s face and have you seen me?

“Dad?”

He turns to me. “Emory. It’s late, honey.”

    “I could say the same for you.”

He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. “I’m just printing some more of these up. I might take a drive tomorrow and post some in other towns. It might be time to think about Joey not being in Mill Haven anymore.”

He hesitates. “I talked to the police a little while ago,” he admits. “They found his car in Franklin Township. Stripped of parts. His phone was in the car. I won’t tell your mother until the morning. She needs to rest.”