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Chapter 60 - Reality Shrugged

I should clarify it was pretty much the only missing person case in the area all year. In fact, the only missing person I could remember previously happened around the time I found that confused little girl on my way home. A middle-school boy from my school vanished. I didn’t know him but, thinking about it, the little girl looked enough like him that she could be his sister. Oh well, not my business...

Clearing his throat, dad persisted, “Now, your friend seems nice. But I will need to talk to her parents and settle some things. However, school assignments like that need to be done. Infuriating that with all the...excuse me, Lea...crap they've tried lately with pulling you out of class and trying to wreck your academic career over some idiotic incident…that they trouble you even more. Even more fools in charge of that school than this one.”

Our rope was running out. How could we manage this? I had to think of something but what...

“…Actually, my name is Wes. Wes Betancourt. Was Wes...until I changed it. Until I changed.” Lea stood up from her seat and faced my dad with unwavering eyes.

Gladis looked especially interested with a hand near her mouth. I wasn't sure if the name meant anything to her, but it seemed like the wheels were about to turn. Dad held still for a bit before stretching back in his chair and looking over at me.

All he asked me was, “That Wes?” A simple, single nod from me in reply.

He placed his hands over the scattered, brownish mottles on his forehead, which had apparently once been freckles like mine, as he continued, “And this...project?”

“Not yet. but we do have homework on the American Dream like that. And I feel I owe it to Wes's parents to at least talk to them after what's happened. You'd want the same if something happened to me.” I clenched my fists but tried to keep any harshness out of my voice.

Dad sat there with a flat expression worse than mere anger and looked down at the table. I expected a long, rhetorical struggle. I expected to have to defend things I wasn't even sure I fully believed. I expected...

“Make sure your mom doesn't know. I'll tell her about this project. But I still want to talk to Wes's parents before you go and…you will be home at a reasonable hour. Before the news. What I told you about Fridays. Understood?"

Eager, relieved nod. "Thanks, dad."

He returned to his papers. Lea finally sat down, and I joined her at the same table. If dad had any issues with us sitting together today then he held his tongue about it. Gladis wandered around the back of the room but still watched us.

Lea picked up her loaner backpack and held it in her lap with her legs together. She didn’t say anything but her look at me expressed tired relief.

I knew each reveal of herself to someone else had to be difficult. I found it hard enough just to express the full details of this mysterious power to trusted friends. Standing up in front of class and proclaiming herself, like she did in English, I couldn’t imagine that. And trying to hold her own against Natalie. And being a mental health curiosity in another class. The fact she sat there without breaking down in tears again gave me a little residual courage.

Quietly, I touched her shoulder and whispered, “You’re amazing.”

She answered with a faint, “Thanks” before putting her notebook back in her bag.

Gladis hovered around a bit and asked a few questions in Spanish, which Lea politely answered in kind. Dad only asked for Lea’s home number before using the phone on the wall, one probably older than what we had at home, to call it.

He gave a sigh more like a growl as he waited on the dial tone.

Muffled words on the line.

“Hello. This is John Waller, I’m Kenzie’s father. Your…uh…kid stayed over at our house last night.”

I strained, but I couldn’t make out any words.

Dad turned to look at us. “Wes. Or Lea. I assume they told you.”

An answer on the other end. Dad listened carefully.

“They’re fine. I took umm…her to school. She and Kenzie left together after school with Kenzie’s sitter.” He looked over at Gladis, who was getting prepared to leave.

He continued, “Uhh…Lea’s helping out at my class. I teach at Brookville College. Did you want to talk to…Lea?”

Dad held out the phone and Lea dropped her bag on the table and darted over to grab it. She spoke quickly and in Spanish. The conversation was soon over and she handed the phone back to my dad.

He breathed out through his nose and expressed, “The two of them told me that they have some project they have to work on at your house…for school.”

More unknown words. Lea paced a bit near the corner and waited too.

“Ah. She told you then. Okay. Well, I’m getting off work soon. So, I’ll drop them off. Wanna make sure of the address….” He reached over to pick up a Post-It notepad and a pen from his table. “…Go ahead….mhmm. Alright. And that’s…okay. Off of Gemini. Got it. Should I leave any money with Kenzie for food?...Oh. Alright. Kenzie doesn’t have any food allergies now, so she should be fine.”

My vanished wheat allergy. The moment, seemingly, all this started. A week ago. A week passed that could take hundreds of pages to fully describe. A lifetime.

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Dad didn’t say much else except to ask to meet whoever it was he was speaking to when he dropped us off. After this, he thanked them and hung up.

At that point, I found out it was Wes’s dad he’d been speaking to. He sounded alright with me visiting. And her parents would make dinner for both of us.

After Gladis said goodbye, dad went to drop off his attendance papers for the day. He also had a weekly meet-up with his department head. It would be a little later leaving than yesterday but not by much.

Before stepping out, he also intoned, “I’ll figure out what message to give your mother about all this.”

And we were alone again. Lea cupped her mouth and leaned forward. My hand went back on her shoulder as I asked, “Was everything okay with your dad?”

She took a long moment to answer, “He sounded…like he’d been crying. I can’t remember the last time he cried. Maybe when my oldest sister got married.”

With a frown, I asked, “What do you think that means?”

Lea shook her head and coughed lightly. “Ideally, that he isn’t mad.”

I could relate. Although, I got the sense that Wes’s parents were much more level-headed and sedate than mine. But then any other parents would be.

I worried Lea might return to those overdue tears from the ramp to Chilton’s class, but she cupped her face, took a deep breath, and asked, “Can we go for another walk?”

We left an obvious note on dad’s table about going to get a snack. I checked one of the numerous, outdoor clocks and figured we could make a quick circuit of the campus and be back in time.

Behind the trio of liberal studies buildings, the two-story applied arts building was still being finished. Beyond that sat an on-campus preschool with a fancy name and a lengthy curriculum. Then a long, dusty stretch till you got to the satellite campus for a state college.

The way we were going took us back through familiar territory with the library visible between the trees. We looped around the help and tutoring center. Lea slowed around the turn, slipped off her bulky sweater, and tied it around her hips.

Adjusting her flannel top, she asked me, “Do you ever stop feeling overly self-conscious of your…breasts?”

I messily drew back my hair and shrugged. “Sometimes. Less self-conscious with comfort and support. And time.”

Readjusting her top, Lea admitted, “I hope so. They feel so…public. And I’ve been cognizant of every guy who’s looked. Along with a handful of girls.”

I assured her that wasn’t because they were huge (they really weren’t) or that you could almost see her nipples if you looked carefully (probably didn’t help). But rather, I noted, “It’s just because they’re there.”

Lea nodded but still folded her arms in front of her chest for a while. With a sigh, she pointed out, “Not huge now but my sisters all really…developed late. Pretty much all the women in my extended family are not the least bit…small.”

Ouch. As a bit of comfort, I told her the second half was true for my family too and I hadn’t wound up with anything crazy. Yet.

“Also…I caused this, so you might be more likely to take after me.”

Her hands slipping to her stomach, Lea glanced down and said softly, “I wouldn’t mind that…”

I would. I’d been terrified more than a few times about creating self-replicas. Although, Lea was more…that word I still hadn’t gotten around to making. Daughter/sister/friend/soulmate. Something in there. A unique sort of friend, for now.

We took that circuit of the campus slowly and retraced our route from earlier. Mural on the right. I was about to mention it when I stopped and gave it a careful, squinting look.

It was different.

About the same vista. Unrealistically-green landscape. Rocky hills. No sunflowers.

Instead, the foreground was covered in and the background shaded in pale, golden poppies. I examined the mural carefully. A few local, native plants but the main flower was poppies. Nothing else.

Well, obviously, it was a different mural. In exactly the same place as the other one we’d seen. I made sure we weren’t turned around. It was the back side of the cafeteria facing the performing arts classes and the small, campus art gallery. Same spot.

Lea soon noticed my hesitation and asked what was wrong. I did my best to phrase my question in the least insane way possible.

“Do you remember the mural with sunflowers around here?”

Turning in place, Lea took a deep breath and scanned the area. “Sunflowers? Umm…I’m afraid that’s a negatory. But I’m assuredly unfamiliar with this campus.”

I gestured to the poppies, which refused to turn into sunflowers, and asked, “Do you know this mural?”

With a quick nod, Lea remarked, “Yeah, I stopped to take a look at it when we arrived. Poppies are pleasant but I love sunflowers. Is there a separate mural with sunflowers?”

There was. At least, I thought there was.

Alright…Deep breath. It would be easy to indulge in the simple blessing of madness. I knew as a clear, vivid image in my mind that Lea had stopped to look at sunflowers and I’d thought about Cass’s strange words.

But things stranger than mere words were following me…

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Art by Alexis Rillera/Anirhapsodist