Amber

Chapter 24

Mark

November 10, 2015

I spend the night drifting in and out of what could be loosely defined as light sleep. It's really more of a trance. An existence between aware and not aware. The type of half-awake dreaming that makes you more tired than if you hadn't rested at all.

I pull back the sheets, frowning at the small specs of red dotted onto the bed from where the Band-Aids couldn't cover.

My head's pounding, and I almost start shaking with the thought of how much I wish I could go to the basement and drown myself in gin.

The smell of Nana's bland, flavorless Cream of Wheat greets me as I shuffle into the kitchen. She's already finished eating, and my favorite cereal sits out for me on the counter along with more ointment and peroxide. I pour a small bowl of Fruit Loops and apply a dab of ointment on each bite, watching Nana smile as I do. She's sitting at a different chair this morning, her back facing the patio and the flowers.

"Did you sleep all right?" she asks, opening her crossword book to the latest earmarked page.

"Not too bad," I answer in a groggy, throat-heavy voice. I sit down, straddling the chair opposite her. My eyes drift up from my cereal to the crossword page and then over to a golden flier on the other side of Nana's bowl streaked with crusty brown goo. The bold lettering at the top spells out the words: Pray for Hailey.

"What's that?" I ask, nodding to the flier.

Nana holds up her index finger as she pencils in a word, smiling while crossing off a number. Then she adjusts her glasses, letting them fall from her nose, the chain catching them to hang around her neck. "Oh that," she says, placing her hand on the flier like it's a fallen flower. "It was in the mail the other day. There's going to be a vigil tonight for that Austin girl." Her eyes catch mine studying the flier. "Here. Have a look."

I reach across the table for it, and then study the picture on the front—black and white set against the gold paper. Hailey's eyes leap off of the page. Her smile is almost as wide-reaching as Lauren's. Like it's trying to expand far enough away from the gray to where the color is. I don't remember ever seeing her smile in class. She looks a bit younger in this picture, maybe Lauren's age. Underneath her picture is a paragraph of quoted Scripture.

"You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance." Psalm 32:7

And then the message: Please come and join us in praying for the protection and safe return of our Hailey.

And then today's date and the time of the vigil, a smaller picture of a candle, and the address of the location. (Oak Creek Square. The same place we held our vigil for Lauren more than a month and a half ago.)

My eyes drift up. Nana is already back to her puzzle. "You know you don't have to go, Nana. You've already been through enough. There's no need to relive—"

"Nonsense," she fires back. "That family needs us to be there." There's determination in her voice, and I know it's because she's convincing herself as much as me. "Been a week since she went missing. They need support from the community. It's the least I can do for them right now."

She's right. It is the least we can do. When Daniel and I passed their house last week, I knew they wouldn't want to be bothered then. They wouldn't be ready to talk. But by now the silence will have taken its toll, and they'll want to do the only thing that comes at all close to helping.

Vent.

Get it all out. Cry and scream and yell and tell people that it's all the worst hell imaginable and then cry and scream and yell some more when the only thing you receive in response is a solemn apology.