This part of town is not good. Run down, vacant buildings line the streets, graffiti everywhere. You can smell the despair in the air.
I’ve been knocking on strangers' doors for weeks now, showing Chase’s picture, asking information to anyone who will listen and not slam the door in my face.
Most people just peek through their curtains, ignoring my knock. I don’t blame them really; tragedy and sadness are written everywhere here.
I’m about to give up, head back home, to Penny, the kids and work. I’ve been here every weekend since Chase disappeared. I can’t stop, I have to find him.
Olivia, Audrey, Brie and Benson are asking around still, trying to find a lead. The problem is we’re running out of people to ask. We’ve been searching, trying to find clues for weeks now. Our little town is empty of any information.
Chase must have hitched a ride with a complete stranger. Or, worse yet, didn’t survive a drug overdose. My heart clenches at that thought.
To say I feel guilty is an understatement, I let my kids down. Even Olivia. When I left, I wasn’t thinking of anyone but myself.
Olivia and I have begged and begged the police to start a search, but they won’t.
“He’s almost 18,” They said, “He doesn’t want to be found, if he’s doing drugs again, he might not even be alive.”
Olivia doubled over in pain at that statement. I shook my head at the officer, took hold of Olivia and walked out of the station.
I walk up broken and crumbling concrete steps, knock on the weathered and peeling door.
To my surprise, an old, hunched over Mexican woman opens the door a crack. Her eyes are dark chocolate, her skin creased and wrinkled. Her hair is a cascade of gray down her back, her house dress bright with embroidery.
“Hola?”
“Yes, Hi,” I shove the picture of Chase up to her before she can slam the door. “Have you seen this person, he’s my son, Chase.”
My voice cracks on his name, I clear my throat and press forward. “He’s been missing for weeks now, have you seen him around?”
The woman hears something behind her, turns and speaks rapid Spanish to whoever just walked into the room.
“Dónde está este chico?”
I try to peek around the door to see who she’s talking too. I catch a glimpse of a bigger guy. Baggy pants, dingy white tank top, shaved head.
The woman turns around and faces the man, making the door open wider.
Under the mans right eye I notice a small star tattooed there, his eyes give me the creeps. He’s furiously whispering in Spanish to the woman, who I’m assuming, his grandmother.
“¡No lo sé, déjalo en paz!”
Damn it, I wish I knew Spanish. I have no idea what’s being said.
“Es sólo un niño, ¿dónde está?” The old woman yells at Tattoo guy.
He swipes his hand in front of her face and yells “¡Parada! ¡Déjalo!”
I take a step inside the house and say, “Hey, have you seen him?” I hold up the picture of Chase again. “Please!”
The tattooed guy shoves past the woman and pushes me out the door. “¡Sal de mi porche, vete!” he yells at me.
I fall back a couple of steps. “Please! Do you know something? Have you seen Chase?”
The man ignores me, turns and slams into his house. I hear the lock snick into place.
“Damn it!” I shout. I close my eyes, take a deep breath as I walk back to my car.
That family knows something. I’ve got to come back when the grandmother is alone.
YOU ARE READING
The Truth About Life
Teen FictionChase and Audrey's lives are turned upside down by their parents' divorce. Chase turns to drugs, Audrey feels like there's no one to turn to, until a new boy moves in next door, showing her life is still full of goodness, if we only look up. Olivia...
