Authors: Dathan Auerbach

Penpal (25 page)

“I thought this guy was a sucker since I knew clearing that lot was coming up for the crew I was on, so someone would’ve had to do it anyway; I actually felt bad for taking his money. It didn’t even look like he’d have $100, but he put the bill in my hand, and I did the job the next night. I’ve been so exhausted that I didn’t even think about it after it was done. I didn’t think about it …”

There was a long pause as he seemed to lose control of his voice.

“I didn’t think about it until today, when I pulled that same guy off of my son.”

He pointed at the grave, and his emotions finally broke free again as tears fell from his eyes and mucus from his nose.

“He paid me
$100 so that I would bury him with my
boy
…”

It was as if saying it aloud forced him to accept what had happened, and he collapsed onto the ground in tears. My mother could think of nothing to say, so she stood there in silence for what felt like a lifetime as she tried to comprehend what he had just told her. She knew that he wouldn’t tell his wife about any of this. My mother knew that this would be the only time when he could reach out for any comfort at all. She knelt down and held him while he cried
for his son.

Finally, she asked what he would do about Josh – where he would take him. But all he said was, “His final resting place won’t be here with this monster.” He rose and stepped delicately around his boy while he walked toward the grave with the canister of gasoline in his hand.

My mother left what used to be my old woods, but what was now just a mausoleum with no walls. As she looked back when she reached her car, she could see black smoke billowing and diffusing against the amber sky, and she hoped against all hope that Josh’s parents would be okay.

When my mother had finished her story, we sat in silence for a long time. I wanted to feel anger or agony, but I felt nothing but a hollow emptiness inside. As we sat there, I realized that Josh’s parents had called my mother when Josh went missing; she must have lied to them in the same way that she lied to me. Josh’s parents must still believe to this day that their
son really ran away.

I stood up to leave. There was only one question that I had for my mother – only one thing I wanted to know from her, but she couldn’t answer it; I don’t know why I expected that she could. I left my mom’s house without saying much else. I told her that I loved her and that I would talk to her soon, but I don’t know what “soon” means for us now. I got into my car and left.

As I drove, that stupid riddle about going into the woods came back into my mind, and that was enough to make me feel again; I remembered Josh and me talking about it in those woods nearly half my lifetime ago. I cried so hard that I had to pull my car over, and I again asked the question that my mother had been unable to answer. I asked it aloud even though no one was around to answer it but me.

“Why Josh?”

It was supposed to be me. It had always been me. So why wasn’t it when it mattered the most? Why did I wake up in the winter woods when I was a child instead of being entombed in them? Why couldn’t it have stopped then, with me? But I’ll never know the answer to this question. I’ll never know why he just left me there. There’s no one I can ask now. Maybe he just couldn’t
do it. He tried, but in the end, he was just too weak
to take me.

As I sat there in my car on the side of the road, I struggled to breathe between my exhausted sobs. I collapsed on the steering
wheel and whimpered that I wished that he had been stronger.

I understood now. As the story became clearer with each detail revealed through the conversations with my mother, I had watched the pieces all fall into place, but I still couldn’t understand why it had all stopped so long ago. Why it had all simply ended. Sitting in my car that night, I saw it all clearly for the first time. As an adult, I could see the connections that were lost on a child who tends to see the world in snapshots rather than as a sequence. The picture was complete, but I wished I had never seen it at all. I left the gas station and drove the rest of the way home, and thought – which is all that’s left
for me to do anymore.

I think about Josh. I loved him then, and I love him even still. I miss him more now that I know I’ll never see him again, and I find myself wishing that I had hugged him the last time
I saw him. I wish that he could have stayed at my
birthday party longer
that day – even if we didn’t say another word to one another, we could have just sat there.
That would have been nice.

I think about Josh’s parents – how much they had lost and how quickly that loss had come. They were good people, kind people. The father had called my mother that terrible day so that she could keep me safe, but no one had called him to help him protect Josh. His parents don’t know about my connection to any of this, but I could never look them in the eyes now. We still live in the same town, and I worry every day that I’ll run into them somewhere. I find myself hoping that I don’t see them, and I feel sick when I have that thought.

I think about Veronica. I had only really come to know her later in my life, but for those brief few weeks, I think I had really loved her.

I think about my mother. She had tried so hard to protect me; she had done everything she could possibly do to keep me safe. She was stronger than I will ever be.

I think about what our lives might be like now if I had just let my balloon go with Chris’, or even a single second sooner or later than I did. Maybe someone else would have found it and everyone would be okay. Maybe I’d still have my friend and his parents would still have a son. Josh had been missing for almost three years – almost a fifth of his life. I try to pretend that I don’t know what the man might have done with Josh for all that time, just like I try to pretend that maybe Josh wasn’t in the passenger’s seat the night Veronica was hit. I find myself pretending a lot now.

But mostly, I just think about Josh. Sometimes I wish that he never sat across from me that day in kindergarten; that I’d never known what it was like to have a real friend. Sometimes I like to dream that he’s in a better place now, but that’s only a dream, and I know that. The world is a cruel place made crueler still by man. There would be no justice for my friend, no final confrontation, no vengeance; it’s been over for almost a decade now for everyone but me.

I miss you, Josh. I’m sorry that you chose me, but I’ll always cherish my memories of you.

We were explorers.

We were adventurers.

We were friends.

…
the end will take care of itself.