Free Payton Hidden Away by Jonathan Korbecki Page B

do remember, but only fragments of that lost
summer. I remember that Joanne left without saying anything to anyone, and
nobody knew why. But I also remember that by that time I was already gone.
    “She disappeared
the same day you left,” Kristie says softly.
    I stare at her,
realizing that if what she just said is true, then maybe this is a trap. After
all, if Jo and I really did both leave on the same day, then despite my
inability to conjure memories into a contiguous timeline of events, the timing
does seem a bit suspicious. Kristie might be setting me up.
    “I left for
school,” I say defensively, my voice sounding anything but confident. “It had
been in the works for weeks.”
    “Did she go with
you?”
    “What’s that
supposed to mean?”
    “I don’t know.
I’m just asking.”
    “I have no idea
where Joanne went,” I say, looking her in the eye. “I wasn’t here.”
    “You swear it?”
    “What difference
does it make? I don’t remember.”
    She exhales and
folds her arms, about to say something then stopping. There’s some more glaring
before she gets over it, leans forward and starts picking at her meal again,
her eyes on her plate. “Fine. I believe you.”
    “Your support is
overwhelming.”
    “I had to ask.”
    I shake my head.
    “You asked me
why I stayed,” she says, chewing. “We all did. My mom and dad. And me. I guess
we were waiting.”
    “For Joanne?”
    “No, for fucking
Santa Claus.”
    I toss a fry at
my catsup before plucking the crumpled napkin from my lap, wiping the grease
from my fingertips. “Sorry.”
    “Jesus Christ,
Tony, wake up.”
    “I’m trying.”
    “Then try
harder.”
    “I’m trying,” I
repeat, my tone soft.
     Kristie leans
her elbows on the table and runs her fingers through her hair. “It’s been a
nightmare that just won’t end. A twenty-year nightmare. I mean, after we got
the letter, we kind of thought maybe she’d come back. Then when Dad got hurt, I
couldn’t just leave Mom here all by herself to take care of him.”
    I take a sip of
water to cool my throat. “What letter?”
    She picks at a
fry. “Joanne’s letter.”
    “She sent you a
letter?”
    Kristie looks
up. “You didn’t hear about that?”
    I continue to
stare.
    She pushes her
bangs behind an ear but doesn’t look up. “She sent us a letter.”
    “When?”
    “You really
don’t know?”
    “Jesus Christ,
Kris, no, I didn’t know.”
    She shrugs. “We
got it something like a year after she left.”        
    “If she sent you
a letter, then what makes you think she was murdered?”
    Tears well in
Kristie’s eyes, but she smiles as if to hide them. “Forget it. It’s
complicated.” This is a strange comment, and I think this might actually be the
first time she’s ever lied to me. “How’s your mom?” she asks suddenly, dabbing
her eyes.
    “You’re changing
the subject.”
    “I’ve gotten
good at that.” She chuckles. “Years of practice.”
    I study her for
a long moment. I can tell she’s not going to talk about it. She’s going to do
things like ask me about my mom even though she doesn’t really care, and I’m
going to do things like answer in order to keep this pointless conversation
going. “She’s doing good,” I answer. “She’s living in Chicago with her sister. She
moved over that way a long time ago.”
    “I know.”
    “You know?”
    “Everyone knows.
When someone moves out of this town, it makes front page news for, like, three
weeks.”
    I chuckle.
“Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, her sister’s husband passed away, so Mom moved in.
They share rent.”
    “You still see
each other?”
    “Holidays and
family reunions. Things like that.”
    “Are you still
close?”
    I shrug. “It’s
complicated.”
    “Touché.”
    “If the shoe
fits.”
    “If you can’t
beat ‘em, join ‘em.”
    “What goes
around, comes around.”
    “You can say
that again.”
    “That again.” I
smile.
    She grins while
shaking her head, once more