Solitary: A Novel (39 page)

I can relate. Not the "breath of heaven" part, but the walking alone part.

The wind outside blows as the woman sings of hope, almost like a prayer.

It's nice to think that someone is up there listening to a prayer such as this in the middle of the darkness, but I don't buy it.

Just like there's no Santa and his reindeer in the North Pole, the same goes for the little baby Jesus coming to the world to save us all.

I haven't been saved, and don't see salvation coming any time soon.

Help me, the song goes.

Yeah.

Help me.

Hold me together.

A nice thought.

But we're all alone down here, and no song can ever change that.

I see the jeep pull up and watch Jocelyn step out.

She takes my breath away. That's all I know and all I care about.

She can help me and hold me together. And I can do the same for her.

"I don't want to leave."

"Then don't."

Jocelyn is lying on the couch with her legs over my lap, a blanket covering both of us. We're stuffed and warm and comfortable, and life is good.

"I have to," she says. "My aunt wants me home."

"How about tomorrow? Mom would you let stay over."

"I don't want to leave my aunt alone. I already spent most of Christmas with you."

"I'm greedy."

My eyes don't move off of her. Sometimes it seems like I could study her all day and all night long.

"Thank you for today."

The gifts are scattered around the room. Mom and I got several things for Jocelyn. Nothing huge, like an iPhone or a diamond ring, but small, nice gifts. Mom has been in her room for the past hour, giving us some space.

I gave Jocelyn a couple more things then, when Mom went to take a nap. One of those was a mix CD with songs all designated to mean something between us. The other was a little booklet I made up that had an assortment of pictures and descriptions (most printed off the Internet) of Chicago. The title of the book was quite subtle: A Place We Will Escape to One Day.

I told Jocelyn I was serious, that I wanted to take her to Chicago one day, that maybe we could do it sometime in the new year. I'd tell Mom we were visiting my father, but we wouldn't have to do that. Jocelyn had smiled and kissed me and thanked me for the thoughtful gifts.

It's already nine, and I know she has to leave. She still hasn't given me her present.

"Did you really get me something?" I ask.

"I did."

"Are you going to give it to me before you leave?"

"It is a Christmas gift."

"Then let me see."

"I didn't have time to wrap it." She produces a small box that fits in my palm.

"If this is a ring, don't you think it's a little soon to be talking marriage?" I ask with a smile.

"Just open it."

I open the box and see a round, brown strip of leather. A wrist band.

"Cool," I say.

Jocelyn smiles, taking the band and putting it on my right hand. She ties it carefully.

"My mother gave this to my father when they were dating. She got it on a mission trip. She told him that she wasn't ready to give him anything else, but she still wanted something round that stuck to him. Something that he never took off that would remind him that they belonged to each other."

Suddenly what I'm wearing seems priceless.

"I can't wear this," I tell her.

"It's my gift to you."

"Jocelyn-"

"I wouldn't give it to you if I didn't mean it."

I lean over and put my hand to the side of her face, then kiss her lips.

When I pull away, I remain close to her face.

"I love you," I tell her.

"I know. Thank you for today."

"We can do this tomorrow if you want. And the next day. And the next."

There it is again, the sad smile, the melancholy glance. She lets out a sigh and tells me she needs to go.

I look at the leather bracelet as we get up.

"What are you thinking?" she asks.

"This feels right."

"I know. I always wondered-but I won't. Not anymore."

"Wondered about what?"

"If someone would come along-someone that fit me-someone that belonged with me. I'll never have to wonder anymore."

I hold her for a long time before she opens the door and walks out into the cold darkness.

I watch her car drive off into the night.

The day after Christmas, I turn on my computer and find an email from Jocelyn.

DEAR CHRIS:

I'VE MADE A MISTAKE.

THIS ISN'T GOING TO WORK OUT.

I NEED SOME SPACE. PLEASE, CHRIS-JUST GIVE ME SOME TIME TO THINK THINGS OVER.

JOCELYN

I stare at the message like it's in a foreign language.

This is the same girl who just said "I'll never have to wonder anymore.

The same girl who just spent Christmas with me, much of it side by side and in one another's arms.

Mistake?

Isn't going to work out?

Space?

Time?

I want to think it's a joke, but nothing about it sounds like a joke.

I email her back.

WHAT'S GOING ON?

And then a few minutes later I email again.

JOCELYN-WHAT'S WRONG? WHAT'S

HAPPENING?

Then, after not getting a response, I get the phone and call her.

I just get their answering machine and hear her aunt's voice. I leave a message.

I leave two more that morning.

Nothing.

The day passes and I hear nothing.

It's only in the afternoon that I start to worry and wonder.

Mom is at work, and it's snowing. I know the roads are bad.

All I can do is sit in this house and worry and wonder.

A thousand voices tell me something, but none of them enough. All of them are insufficient.

By the time night comes I can't take anymore.

I go below our deck where my bike is stored and find the tires shredded like fragments from a bomb blast. They're not only flat, they're slashed. Beyond repair.

Wind whips my body as I look into the wilderness and wonder who did this.

I go back inside and wait to hear from Jocelyn.

Wait to understand what's going on.

So I wait.

And I wait.

Finally, the Wednesday after Christmas, after several days have passed and I've heard nothing more from Jocelyn since her cryptic and baffling email, I have my mother drive me to her house. I have her wait at the end of the driveway so she doesn't have to see any drama unfold. Yet as I approach the house, I suddenly know that nobody is there.

There's no car. The snow on the driveway looks several inches thick and untouched. No lights are on and there aren't any footprints in the snow.

The house looks abandoned.

I knock on the door several times then try opening it. Part of me wants to kick it in (if I could actually manage to do that), yet I know there's no need to.

Nobody's been around here for some time now.

I wonder where Jocelyn and her aunt might have gone.

What about Wade? What if he came back and forced them to go somewhere?

I know what I need to do.

I run back to my mom and tell her to stop in town on the way home.

I need to see the sheriff.

"Just slow down a second."

The deputy I'm talking to, Kevin Ross, chews gum robotically and rubs his nose as if he's bored. I stop talking and compose myself.

"Is the sheriff around?" I ask again.

"I already told you he's out."

"When's he going to be back?"

"When he gets back."

This guy doesn't like me, I already know that. He looks like the kind of guy who has an attitude simply because he gets to carry a gun around all day long.

"So Jocelyn Evans sent you a Dear John note-"

"She sent me an email," I say.

"And what did it say?"

"It was just short."

"What did it say?" the deputy barks out at me.

"That she made a mistake. That she needed some space."

"A mistake with you?"

I nod.

"So this space she's talking about-what does that mean to you?"

"I'm worried something happened to her."

"Because she broke up with you?"

"She didn't break up."

"Oh, no?" There's a smug grin on his face that I'd so like to wipe off with a hammer.

"She's just confused."

"Uh huh. So giving her a little space is going to her home and checking up on her?"

"Can I talk to the sheriff?"

The guy grabs my wrist and squeezes it so hard I start to see tiny stars. He shoves his face in mine, and I can smell onions on his breath.

"You listen to me. You leave that girl alone, you hear me? She's fine."

I wince and tug at my hand and he releases it.

"Her uncle-her step-uncle-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know about Wade," Kevin says. "Sheriff told me about the little altercation."

"I'm just worried that he might have done something."

"The sheriff told Helen that if they go anywhere or do anything, or if anything-anything-happens, to let him know. So she did."

"She did what?"

"Maybe it's not your business."

"I'm just worried about something happening to Jocelyn."

"Her aunt told Wells that they were going on a little trip. Called the morning after Christmas. Something happened. I don't know. Whatever you said or did musta left an impression. Because her aunt's gone bye-bye."

"Where?"

"Somewhere warm."

His smile mocks me.

"Did they say anything-"

"Enough of this," he snaps. "I have other things to do with my time than listen to some lovesick little boy. Enough. You got it?"

I nod.

"And you listen to me," Kevin says, his long, skinny finger pointing at me. "You come in here asking more questions or needing the sheriff or any of that, you're going to find trouble. You got that?"

I nod again and then stand up.

My wrist still hurts.

I leave the station and wish I were back in Illinois.

Alongside Jocelyn.