My Wife Is Missing(91)

He sought her out, waited until she was alone, before approaching. She wasn’t drinking, but he offered her some of his. She refused.

“It’s not my thing,” she said. “My mom would kill me if she caught me drinking.”

He didn’t know much about her mother back then, but he’d find out later just how uncompromising she could be.

Brianna had no trouble holding her own in conversation. She was flirtatious, playing with her hair, giggling at his jokes, and sending lingering looks, which he quite enjoyed, but he sensed there was something underneath her bubbly exterior. He was intrigued to find out if his instincts were right.

“So, is your mom really that strict?” he asked.

“She’s super religious,” Brianna said, sounding annoyed, like religion wasn’t her thing. “Let’s just say she’d be really upset if she knew I was here. I’m not allowed to go to parties with boys.”

He almost spit out his drink.

“What party has only girls? Hell, I’d like to go there.”

That got another coquettish laugh.

“What I mean is she really wants me to just hang out with kids from my church.”

“Well, that certainly isn’t me,” he said. “Last time I went to church I think Jesus was alive.”

She laughed again. They talked for hours that night, and after a while it felt like there was nobody else at the party but the two of them. Nobody else mattered. She was easy to talk to, bright as could be, so well-read, and she understood it all, too. English was his worst subject. He didn’t get a sense that she was too hung up on her religion when they kissed as the party was coming to an end, his hands traveling up and down her body, their tongues greedily finding each other.

They began dating, hot and heavy, and he got to know her mom, Helen—aka “Bane of his Existence”—pretty well. She kept coming between them, trying to force a breakup, but by then Brianna was hooked on him and he on her. He’d never done heroin, but he’d learned about it in health class, and felt certain that for him, she was that drug in human form.

Days blurred into weeks, into months, until his time in high school was coming to an end, but not his time with Brianna, or at least that was his desire. Once again, they were at Toby’s place, this time for the big blowout end-of-the-year party.

Most of the kids there were headed off to college in the fall. That was his plan, too. He was eighteen. Wasn’t sure where he was going. It was already spring and he hadn’t decided on Rutgers or Penn State, or what he’d major in—probably econ—but he was open to general business studies, too. It had been a good run, four years at Rye High. He’d done his share of soccer games, three years of lax, before “senioritis” set in hard and he gave it all up for more time with friends, red plastic cups, and most importantly, Brianna.

But Brianna was being quiet that night. She didn’t want him to go off to college and find another girl. At least that’s what he was thinking when she pulled him aside, away from a loud crew playing beer pong, to step onto the patio and talk in private about something important that was on her mind.

“I can’t see you anymore,” she blurted out. No buildup, no warning, just a punch delivered right to the solar plexus. For a moment he couldn’t breathe.

“My mom is serious this time,” she said. “If I keep seeing you, she’s going to send me away to a Catholic boarding school.”

“She can’t do that,” he replied with hurt in his voice. “She doesn’t run your life.”

“Tell that to her,” said Brianna sorrowfully.

“Screw it, let’s run away.”

“I can’t.” Brianna pulled her hand free from his grasp. “I’m going to be a junior. I’m not running off to get married.”

“Who said anything about marriage?” he said, sending her an endearing smile.

She socked him in the arm.

“This is serious,” she said. “I can’t be with you anymore.”

It was as if she took her hand and drove it straight through his chest.

“We’re not breaking up,” he insisted. He grabbed hold of her arm, squeezing it hard enough for her to wince. He worried his grip might have left a bruise, but he was thinking of the summer, the beach, Brianna in a bikini, all the talking, cuddling, touching, and more that they’d do. He couldn’t live without her, that’s what he was telling himself.

“I’m sick about it,” Brianna said as tears flooded her eyes. “But my mom is insisting. If she even knew I was here seeing you, she’d kill me. But I had to come. Tonight was my only chance to tell you in person. It’s got to be over between us.”

She bit her bottom lip trying to hold back the tears, but still, they streaked down her face.

“I love you,” he said, holding her hands as he gazed deeply into her eyes. The hurt tore through him. He thought he might get sick. In his mind he could feel her body against his, in his bedroom, after having sex—such incredible sex, he’d never had that overwhelming feeling before, and he knew with certainty that he’d never feel this way about another person again.

“Please,” he said, pulling her against his chest. He was tearing up as well, but didn’t care that his emotions were spilling out. It didn’t matter to him that all eyes were on them, watching their every move. They were clearly making a scene. “I can’t be without you.”