Page 2 of Into the Dark, We Go
"Think about it?" Her disapproving tone seeped through the phone like a cold mist. "You’ve been waiting around long enough, don’t you think?"
"Mom, I have a job. I pay my bills. I’m not waiting around."
"It’s your life, but I can’t watch you squander your potential. You’re so smart, and it’s going to waste."
"Mom!" My voice betrayed me with a childish whine. She had a way of making me feel like a scolded seven-year-old again. "I have to go. My shift starts in half an hour."
"I always knew that boy was trouble," she continued against my protests. "Now look at yourself! Waiting for him to show up, getting yourself in trouble."
"Mom, stop. Please."
"You’re just wasting your life, waiting for someone who’s clearly not worth it."
The familiar knot in my stomach tightened.
"I’m not waiting for anyone."
"If you think you’re respecting his memory by putting your life on hold, you’re wrong."
My mom had a knack for recycling the same guilt trips, and somehow, it worked every time. We exchanged terse goodbyes,and I hung up, feeling utterly depleted. A photo of Lucas and me at the stadium after a game was still my phone’s wallpaper: his face flushed with victory, his sweat-drenched jersey clinging to his broad shoulders as he leaned in to kiss me, the wind blowing my red hair against him. I loved us like that.
Lucas had lived and breathed football, and his dream of going pro right out of college consumed him. He had wanted it more than anything in life.
Now, the team had a new receiver, and I hadn’t brought myself to follow football since, nor could I muster the courage to change the photo yet.
It wasearly September in Minneapolis, but summer showed no signs of giving up. The heat was relentless. Even in the mornings, it was so warm that I wore jeans and T-shirts, adding a light shirt on top. The first few months after Lucas’s disappearance, when it became clear he wasn’t coming back, and it wasn’t a stupid prank, I wore his hoodie everywhere. I left the rest of his things untouched in his gym bag, trying to preserve his scent.
The "North Point" cafe was a short walk from my house, across the river over a pedestrian bridge and to the left towards the North Loop, where the sun spilt like an egg yolk over the water.
It was the one place I felt at ease, and I hated myself for admitting it, but it was because Lucas and I never visited together. There were no memories of him—of us—pressed against the old oak walls, stealing kisses and daring touches. No secret moments in a shaded leather booth, laughing over a cold brew. It was a blank canvas. Something of my own, a job, and nothing more. For four mornings and two evenings a week, I could forget.
Two more nights a week, I worked as a waitress at a pub. The tips were good, and the place wasn’t popular among students. However, there were times when I did get recognized. I could sense it right away. That gaze was unmistakable. At first, they would stare at me, then excitedly talk to each other, occasionally glancing in my direction.
Bingo! You’ve hit the jackpot. You’ve found the best bar in town where they serve an amazing Jucy Lucy, and your waitress is the one who supposedly committed the perfect murder and got away with it. Let’s talk about how they never found the body. Just don’t stare too much, and be sure to leave a good tip, or she might finish you off, too!
September, 2018
The stadium was filledwith the scent of fresh turf and buttery popcorn. The aroma clung to me as I weaved through the throng of eager fans, the air heavy with a brewing storm. Or maybe it was just my nerves. I’d been jittery all evening. The scoreboard flickered, flashing with a frenetic red glow before darkening again.
"Have you seen Lucas?" I asked a stocky defensive lineman from the team. He either didn’t hear me or deliberately ignored me, still deep in conversation with two girls who barely looked of age. They giggled and tossed their hair as he leaned down to laugh with them.
"Jonas!" I snapped my fingers, and his bulk turned to me. He waved in a general direction, and I followed his lead, pushing my way through clusters of jerseys and painted faces.
It had been nearly a week since our fight, and I hadn’t seen him since. Someone told me he’d gone to visit his family in Black Water, which seemed strange, given that the semester had juststarted. But in that time, I had ample opportunity to reflect on our relationship. I missed him deeply and wanted him back.
I could have waited until the game was over to catch up, but it felt necessary to talk to him sooner. My anxiety was eating away at me, and giving it more time felt like I’d lose him forever.
I struggled to keep my nerves under control and fidgeted with the bracelet on my wrist. It had been a gift for our first anniversary and featured two charms—a tiny football and a running sneaker—symbols of our combined interests.
I frantically scanned the crowd, rhythmically knocking the sneaker into the ball to calm my angst. My breath caught in my throat when I spotted him emerging from the sea of people ahead, tall and handsome, his uniform making him look like a warrior ready for battle. He was entertaining a short blonde girl, his attention fully absorbed by her as she spoke. I could only assume she was trying her luck. Had rumors about our fight spread already?
I stood to the side and waited until they finished, lest I look the jealous type and make things worse. She glanced at me with a curious expression before nodding and, finally, walking away. I swallowed my jealousy, and with it, the desire to ask him who that was. Instead, I greeted him with a timid, "Hey."
"Hey," he repeated neutrally, crossing his arms over his chest. I tried not to squirm under his scrutiny.
"I’ve been searching everywhere for you."
"You found me." His one-sided responses annoyed me, but I ignored this one. We needed to move forward. My stomach churned as I struggled to keep my composure.
