All of Me

sixteen • picture this

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All I can think about all day is Maggie. Maggie, who I thought was dead. Maggie, who is alive and well. Maggie, who up and left when college stress got to her and returned when she realized the mess she had left behind. Now she's home and safe, and she made a statement apologizing for causing such a panic.

When I'm not thinking about her, I'm thinking about the body. The body that was still found, the body that clearly wasn't Maggie and hasn't been identified as any other missing people Mom's keeping track of. I'm turning into her, refreshing the news between classes and when professors aren't looking and when work gets quiet.

It's been a long ten hours. My shift has felt even longer, though it's only been five hours, and as the clock ticks closer to ten, the second hand seems to slow down until it's barely moving. I swear time has stopped still right before I'm due to go home.

A watched pot never boils, I think, so I turn away from the clock and focus on putting away the books that have been left in the wrong place throughout the day. I feel the air move before I hear Navya's quiet feet behind me. We've been the only ones here for almost an hour. Apparently nine o'clock is the latest people will buy books on a Wednesday.

"Hey," she says, her voice soft. I told her everything, from what happened the night of the party – we haven't closed the store together since before then – to the drama with Maggie's disappearance and reappearance, to everything going on with Liam and Davis and my own mind.

It's a lot. I'm barely managing to hold it together so I feel pretty awful for throwing it all on Navya, but she asked and she was insistent, and there are only so many times I can insist I'm fine before word vomit takes over and I lose sight of my sense.

"Hi, Navya."

"How're you doing?" she asks. She's pretty good at switching from slightly manic and overenthusiastic to nurturing, and it doesn't feel patronizing when she asks me that and puts her hand on my arm.

"I'm ok. Just ready to go home," I say. "It's been a long day."

"I bet. Only quarter of an hour to go, though," she says. "And hey, as much as you've been through today, everything turned out pretty good!" She paints a bright smile on dark lips. "I mean, Liam came good and your friend is ok, right?"

I smile and nod. Maybe I didn't tell her everything. When I started working here, I said that my dad was dead. It was so much easier than explaining the truth and dealing with awkward sympathies, but now I can't talk to anyone but Mom and Gray about him.

I can't tell Navya that yes, I should be happy; yes, today was hard but it was good; yes, Liam likes me as much as I like him. I can't, because all I can think is that if the body wasn't Maggie, then maybe it's my dad.

It's a long shot. He's been gone for more than two years. But from what little has been released, I know the body was found somewhere in Queens, where Dad went missing. Where we used to live. I wish I could banish the thoughts. I wish I could just get on with work without my mind slipping to Dad every five minutes. I wish I could dwell on anything else.

I wish I didn't feel so hopeful.

I despise myself for the optimism that flashed through me when I heard that Maggie was ok. Not because she was fine, but because that meant the body could be my dad. I hate myself for wanting it to be him. The thought of him being gone, permanently, is one that makes my whole body ache; it makes me want to curl up in a ball and wake up in a different life.

But it's also a relief. It's an end to years of wondering. The end of the what-ifs and the maybes. It's a new beginning. If Dad really is gone, if Mom knows for sure, she can move on. She can be with Tad. My mind is torn, an unimaginable Sophie's choice. I'd give anything to have my dad back, but I'd give anything for Mom to be happy again.