First Girl Gone(93)
A bark of laughter came over the walkie-talkie.
“What’d we end up taking? I don’t remember,” Zoe said.
“Mountain Dew, gummy bears, and Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.”
“Nice. What about when Kyle Polarski shat on the skylight over the school cafeteria?”
“That was Kyle?” Charlie asked. “I thought it was Scott Bauman.”
“Scott might have been there, but I think Kyle did the deed. You know, he’s a gym teacher at the middle school now. I’ll ask him next time I see him.”
“Please do. I’m sure he’ll love that.”
Time seemed to speed up some as Charlie and Zoe reminisced. Was there something about conversing over these walkie-talkies that spurred the memories along? Charlie thought so. It was as though the little communication devices thrust them right back into childhood, set them jetting backward in time, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past and all that F. Scott Fitzgerald stuff.
The creeping gray of nostalgia snuck up on her, enveloped her, shook her out of that tense feeling she’d had when the litterbug had gone past, and shifted her into something of a wistful mood. Some longing feeling she didn’t quite understand.
In any case, the clock moved faster. The coffee grew colder. But Charlie didn’t mind any of it, even if this particular nostalgia maintained a distinctly bittersweet flavor. It was better to talk, to remember, to share these feelings with someone outside herself. Much better than facing it all alone, she thought.
She poured out the last of the coffee, the runnel of black growing thin as it descended from the thermos, receding into a few dark droplets. She sipped it. Just faintly warm now. Better than nothing.
She checked the time on her phone. The white letters glowed back 8:44 p.m. That made her lick her lips. Only sixteen minutes left on the countdown clock. Would he not show after all? She hadn’t anticipated that possible ending, not truly.
But maybe it made sense. Nothing instead of something.
We never contemplate the empty spaces in life, she thought. We see the walls and furniture and think of those as the room instead of all the space around them—the vast expanse of nothing that lies within the borders. Scientifically speaking, most of the universe is composed of nothing, right down to each of the cells that constructed our bodies. Why is that notion so hard to hold onto? We lack some kind of spatial awareness for it. So often we behave as though the objects around us comprise reality when most of the universe is empty. Nothing. Infinite black space flecked with relatively tiny stars.
She swallowed the last of her coffee, feeling that little bit of grit in her throat, the sludge that had collected at the bottom of the thermos. As soon as the cup went all the way empty, a pang of regret welled in her, some grave concern that she’d have none left to sip at while she waited.
She lifted the phone again. Waited for the glowing numbers to appear. The time changed from 8:46 to 8:47 as she looked upon it.
Lights gleamed in the rearview mirror, and Charlie sat up straighter to watch. Headlights shining out from a dark sedan. This one seemed nicer than the litterbug’s vehicle, even from a distance. It was newer and bigger—one of those boats that old, upper-middle-class people drove. A Cadillac or Buick, maybe. She couldn’t quite tell with the clusters of snow hugging parts of the car.
The beams swiveled around the corner behind her and rolled right past. Charlie ducked again as it got close—watching, waiting for it to turn into the lot—but this car didn’t slow. It zoomed on by. She tried to get a look at the license plate, but that too was largely tucked behind a crust of snow.
Oh, well. More nothing, she thought. Probably a resident of the area heading home.
“Just had a dark sedan zoom by,” Charlie said into the walkie-talkie. “Didn’t slow down or anything, so I figure it was nothing.”
Zoe didn’t respond right away.
“Yep. Yep. I’ve got eyes on him now,” she said finally. “He just turned down this way.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, this is interesting. He just took another right. I think he’s heading back in your direction.”
Another right. That didn’t sound like someone who lived here. That sounded like someone circling the park.
She watched the mirror. Waited. Tried not to get her hopes up. Not yet.
A moment later, headlights flared in the corner of the mirror. As the vehicle got closer, she saw that it was indeed the same car.
“He’s coming back,” Charlie said.
This time he slowed and pulled into the park entrance. Charlie crouched down, trying to keep the car in view. Her heart punched at the walls of her chest like it was knocking on a door, asking to be let out.
The reflection of the brake lights tinted the snow scarlet. And then a bright white glow mixed in with the red—he had put the car in reverse.
Charlie whispered into the walkie-talkie, “He’s parking. I think… I think it’s really him.”
The car’s engine changed to a higher pitch and cut out then. The sudden quiet had an empty feeling to it. After a second, the red glow from the brake lights went dark.
A strange rush hit Charlie then, an almost overwhelming feeling of adrenaline flooding into her bloodstream. Her palms went icy-cold, and she had the sudden urge to burst into a fit of hysterical giggles. When she glanced up and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she found she had gaping black pits for pupils.