Page 53 of Not on the Same Page

Casey shakes his head, and before the car has fully stopped, he opens the door and jumps out. As if on an afterthought, he turns around. “Thanks, Trina. I’ll…um…call you later.”

And with that, he slams the car door and runs inside his building.

I should leave. That whole conversation was clearly more than he wanted to have with me. Idly, I wonder how long he would have gone before mentioning his brother at all. Forever, probably. I could definitely keep up our professional and physical relationship without ever mentioning my aunt or my mother. They just don’t fit in either of those bubbles.

But I can’t unknow anything he’s said. There’s a third, more personal bubble now. There’s no way to unsee it. I have to make sure it doesn’t pop or else things are going to get messy.

What I should do is take his clear hint and go back to my place, turn my fireplace back on just the way I like it—as is my right as a childfree woman in my thirties who lives alone and does what she wants—and go about my life. Casey will call me if he needs me. Which he won’t, because he doesn’t. This is his family, and I don’t have anything to do with it.

And yet, that big memory of being nine years old in the back of a CPS car on a hot, sunny day lingers. There were two of them in the front seat. They talked to each other but never to me. It was lonely. I was alone.

No one deserves to be alone when they’re dealing with something stressful.

With a heavy sigh, I swing my car into a parking spot not too far away and walk quickly to Casey’s building, my sandals scuffing rhythmically against the hot sidewalk. Gone is the high from the other night. It’s been replaced by a type of anxiety I don’t recognize—not for me, but for him—and a burning desire to take it away, to fix it, even though I know I can’t. This isn’t the type of thing sex can repair.

I run up the stairs to find his condo door cracked open. Pushing it open slowly and peeking inside, I see him with his phone pressed to his ear, pacing with his other hand on his hip. He turns and sees me there, but his face doesn’t give anything away. After a moment, he motions me inside and paces away from me.

After I close the door softly behind me, I start to feel like an idiot for rushing up after him. What am I supposed to do now? What good am I to him? He doesn’t even seem to need me here.

“Yeah, I get he might still come here, but what are we going to do? You’re there waiting for him, and I’m supposed to stay here and do the same?” He pauses, listening. “No, I can’t think of anywhere he might be.” Another pause. “Erick is driving around? Okay. Yeah, okay. Sure. Bye.”

Casey hangs up, then tosses his phone on the kitchen counter and buries his head in his hands. “He left his phone on his dresser. He knows he’s not supposed to go anywhere without his phone.”

“Did something happen? Was he upset about something, maybe?” I try.

He shakes his head, dragging his hands down to his cheeks. “His roommate didn’t notice anything. That doesn’t mean he wasn’t. But he’d have called me. He always calls me—” Casey’s voice breaks. He coughs to cover it up, but it’s unmistakable.

Fuck. I don’t know how to help him. I haven’t felt this helpless in a long time, and I hate it.

So I do the one thing I’ve always been able to do. I close the distance between us and cover his hands with my own. Squeezing to apply just a little pressure is enough to force his gaze to meet mine.

“This is not your fault. I don’t know if you’re blaming yourself, but you need to hear that. He’s an adult, right?”

Casey nods as best he can, but I can already see him coming back into himself.

“And he knows how to use public transit?”

Another nod.

“You said he’s never done this before. Does he wander off though? Go anywhere aimlessly? Take walks?”

This time, Casey shakes his head. “No. Never.”

“Okay…” I chew on my bottom lip, thinking, and take a step back so my hands drop from Casey’s face.

Once when I was fifteen, I wanted to climb out of my own skin. I don’t remember why exactly, but I do remember wondering whether or not anyone would miss me if I just disappeared. So I did. I walked to the local library, found a book and a comfy bean bag chair in the corner of the kid’s section, and read for hours. No one came for me. No one even let on if they had noticed my absence when I got home. But I felt better. I guess, in the end, that’s what mattered.

I’ve always gone to libraries for any reason—happy, sad, stressed. When I need to think or when I don’t want to think about anything at all, the library is my go-to, in any city, any time. Maybe…

“Does he have a happy place?”

“A what?” Casey frowns.

“A happy place. Somewhere comforting he likes to go when things get overwhelming. Maybe something you two share? You said you watch games or movies on Sundays. Maybe a stadium or a theater?”

He shakes his head slowly. “He wouldn’t—” His eyes light up as he cuts himself off, but they dim just as quickly. “Lisa wants me to stay here in case he comes by.”

“If you think you know where he is, you should go.” I shouldn’t get more involved than I already am, but I’m already in pretty deep. “If you want, I can stay. You can call me if you find him.”