53. Emails

One plus about living around here: People driving down country roads pick up strangers.

I’m fortunate that I don’t have to try and find my way back to Solitary. It’s not the distance that concerns me. It’s the risk of wandering the opposite way into South Carolina and having to backtrack two hours.

The other fortunate thing on that Friday night is finding Mom still at the restaurant. It’s not a bad place. It’s basically like one half restaurant and one half bar. When I enter the door, I see my mother laughing and talking with a woman behind the bar. It’s good to see her joking around.

I make up some story about being dropped off, and Mom buys it.

I wait around for her for an hour. She gets the kitchen to make me a burger. Somehow she can tell I haven’t eaten.

When we get back home, I check my emails.

Nothing.

I spend another hour debating and doubting and deciding.

Then I do it.

I type up another email and send it.

It’s straight and to the point:

HEY JOCELYN.

EVERYTHING OKAY?

CHRIS

The bad thing with sending emails is that you expect replies.

Expecting can be a bad thing.

It certainly doesn’t help sleep.

And it certainly doesn’t get rid of the worry.

Thirteen hours later (but who’s counting?) I get an email from her.

EVERYTHING’S FINE. PLEASE DON’T EMAIL ME AGAIN.

JOCELYN

I reread it to see if I’m missing something.

Seven words, that’s all.

But is there some hidden code in it?

I act like the words are going to add up to something that says I love you so please rescue me. But I’m an idiot, because the words are what they are. They’re simple and straightforward and to the point.

Everything’s fine, so don’t worry anymore, Chris.

And oh, yeah, I never asked you to email me, so stop it.

Back home if things like this happened, I’d ignore them and go on to the next important thing. Hanging out with friends. Going to see a movie. Going to a party. Going online to see the latest gossip and happenings and silliness. Going, going …

Gone.

But here the only thing I want to do is go to her. Go back to her tiny little house and see what’s happening.

What if that wasn’t even from her? How do you know it wasn’t her step-uncle? Or aunt?

I breathe in.

I need air.

How about going into the woods? How about a nice little stroll back there?

I feel claustrophobic, like I’m stuck in a tiny elevator. I feel like there’s nowhere to go if I’m outside, nothing to do, no one to see.

Ignoring the voices that tell me to stop everything and turn around and get out, I reply to the email.

WHAT’S GOING ON?

It’s a bad one. Even after sending it, I know I shouldn’t have. It’s too direct, too in her face, too much.

Once again, the hours tick by until I hear from her again.

When I do, the following evening, it’s even more simple and direct than mine.

NOTHING.

That’s all.

A great way to think about starting the next week.

On a whim, just before bed that rainy Sunday night, as I hear the drops doing a tap dance above me, I check my email again.

There’s another message from Jocelyn, but from a different address.

JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THINGS ARE FINE. I HAD SOME FAMILY DRAMA THIS WEEKEND AND WILL EXPLAIN IT TO YOU WHEN I’M ABLE. CAN’T BE SEEN ON THE COMPUTER—HE’LL FIND OUT. JUST TRUST ME. I’M SORRY FOR NOT TALKING—WANT/NEED TO TELL YOU THINGS. JUST KNOW—YOU’VE BEEN WITH ME, CHRIS. THAT’S THE ONLY WAY I’M GETTING THROUGH THIS. SEE U TOMORROW.

I wish I had a car. I’d find her house and knock on the door and take her away.

No you wouldn’t.

Maybe I would. Maybe I’d at least consider it.

Maybe I would at least drive out in the rain and park in front of her house, contemplating taking her away.

Her words calm me even though they prove that something’s wrong.

Something has been wrong from the day I met this girl.

Why her?

Why Jocelyn?

The day can’t end or the new school week begin soon enough.