it’s been six days since i have last talked to you and you haven’t visited me since. i called your house phone and your parents say you’re either sleeping or out and you can’t get to the phone right now, but they’ll tell you i called.
bullshit, jasper.
you’re running from everything all over again and it’s not fucking fair. i have to return to college in a week because they can’t give me any more time off, or i’ll have to repeat the semester.
it seems like college isn’t in your plans as of right now.
maybe this is all just a dream and you’re actually dead. maybe i haven’t woke up in reality.
i pinch myself, but it hurts. it’s real. it’s all too real. nothing seems real anymore.
“you okay, doll?” mother asks me as she wheels herself by my side.
“no,” i mutter.
“what’s got you feeling down?”
i look at her with a ‘did you just really ask me’ look. she sighs and places her hand on my knee.
“give him time,” she says.
“that’s all you ever say anymore.”
“it’s the truth,” she retorts. “time is key and patience is the answer.”
“nobody knows why he disappeared for so long, mom. he won’t say anything.”
she frowns and looks deep in thought. “maybe he doesn’t want you to know. maybe it’s for your best interest.”
“then why hasn’t he told anyone else? he won’t even talk to it with the investigators! he isn’t—“
“he has, love.”
my head snaps up. “what?”
“they’ve been notified and they’re going over his case again to see if his story matches up with anything.”
“what happened?” i whisper.
she smiles sadly at me and shrugs. “i don’t know.”
“but you just said—“
“they haven’t informed his parents yet. they don’t want to say false statements to them yet.”
“it doesn’t make sense!” i yell, standing up. my mother leans back in her wheelchair.
“maybe he’s scared,” she says. “maybe he wants to tell you, but he can’t.”
“he knows he can tell me anything,” i quietly say. “i’m his best friend.”
“everyone has secrets, val.”
“but it seems like he has too many secrets nowadays.”
she starts to roll away and when she enters a door, i hear a faint shout, “time, val!”
i groan and throw the nearest object—a pillow—at the wall. it bounces off and i sit back down.
time. he needs time.
