12:05 p.m.
Pasadena, California ~ Saturday, August 16, 2014
Charlie had turned eighteen before many of his high-school pals and had started college as one of the more developed members of his incoming freshman class. (I wouldn’t say he was more “mature” than average because, given the immaturity of many of his peers, that would be grossly misleading.) Hanging with the fast crowd, however, came with the territory for him, and he’d managed to attract a dedicated band of fellow risk takers.
He and his buddies had been the direct cause of our parental concern on far too many occasions. Jay had been so different—a techie geek with similarly nerdy BFFs. Watching them was like watching an episode of The Big Bang Theory in progress. On the other hand, Charlie and his buds were more like the cast of Two and a Half Men.
And, though my boys each made office friends and a few neighborhood pals, both of them still stayed oddly connected to the guys they’d bonded with during their university days.
I went online and read through Charlie’s Facebook page. I despised Facebook and only had fourteen “friends”—two of them were my sons. Charlie wasn’t as obsessive about updating his status as his big brother, but he tended to post something once or twice per week. His last update had been this past Monday at 3:47 p.m.
Charlie: Preseason football, dudes! Gotta watch my Chargers kick some TX ass 2nite.
This was followed by a variety of related comments.
Matt: Beer!!!
Tim: Preseason cheerleader babes...
Steve: Where’s my Cowboys jersey?
Matt: Boo! Scooby, you loser.
Charlie: WTF, Scoooobs?! No beer for you.
Steve: LOL. Gotcha, you CA suckahhhs. So, where are we watching the game?
Tim: How about Pub Krawl? At 7?
I’d met Matt, Tim and Steve (aka “Scooby”—long story on the nickname, but it involved hefty late-night snacking and an affinity for the TV cartoon) when my son shared an apartment with them during their junior and senior years of college at USC. All four still lived in the greater L.A. area and met regularly.
Although Charlie would strangle me (if he could) for what I was about to do, I direct-messaged all three of them and asked if they knew his whereabouts for the weekend.
Steve/Scooby was the first to ping back with a reply, and it came within a minute:
Saw him on Monday night but he didn’t say anything to me about weekend plans. Hope he’s not in trouble! ~S.
I nodded grimly at the computer screen. Yeah, Scoobs. Me, too.
Then I waited another fifteen minutes, hoping Matt or Tim would respond, but they didn’t...and time was running out. I grabbed my car keys, Charlie’s picture and fingerprints and, of course, my iPhone, and I rushed out the door.