The Search

 

I had woken up from my sleep that had finally come, hearing a banging on the door. I waited for it to be answered. Since the noise wasn't stopping, mom and dad must have gone out, since they didn't get a chance to Sunday. They were lucky to be off on a Tuesday. So was I, since I got to catch up in my sleep, or did, before all the interruptions. I went downstairs and opened the door. To my surprise it was a black haired boy, with blue eyes that looked exactly like the boy Brent had gone with.

"Where's Brent?" He asked me in a frantic voice. I began to shut the door, figuring I was dreaming again. The door reopened, with him pushing it towards me.

"What?" I asked in surprise. This boy knocks on the door and when I open it he automatically asks me a question? Who did this kid think he was?

"Where is Brent?" He repeated, this time more serious than worried.

"I heard you the first time. I mean, I don't even know who you are and you're asking for my brother?" It sounded suspicious, especially since he should know that Brent hasn’t been home in a long time. If he was Brent’s boyfriend he should know that, or at least be with him at this moment. It seems like they would be the couple to spend every moment together, especially now.

"Fine I’m Chad," he reached out his hand for a quick shake. I didn't raise mine to agree to it, so he dropped his arm rapidly. "I'm a friend of Brent."

 

 

"A friend? Don't lie to me about you and him. I already know, you guys aren't too secretive about it."

"We really don't try to be." He said in a rude, agitated voice. He continued his questions. "Where is he now? Is he here?"

"No, I thought he was with you.” If he wasn’t with Chad, who was he with? “Why do you think it matter to me where he is?"

"He's been gone the past two days! What do you mean, why does it matter? He's your brother!" His arms moved around as he talked, expressing how he felt about it. I continued to stand there with a relaxed pose.

"Not anymore. Look, if this is all-"

"Do you not realize how serious this is?" I shook my head. "After what your father did... He was done with it. He told me he was done with all of it. I asked him, no, begged him to come over to my house and try to calm down. He said he didn't want to be with anyone. He wanted to think about things. I said okay, but to call me later, but he didn't." 

The feeling I had of pain for him was creeping back again. It began when I had walked into my room Sunday afternoon. As I saw my dad yelling at him, I didn’t feel too bad. I almost felt like he deserved it, and that my job was being done for me. He was being kicked out, and there would be no contaminated purity in our house hold. Soon, in the middle of the yelling, I witnessed my dad hit him for the first time, and a back slap to the face as a first was hard. It was hard to watch, and probably harder to face it. Right as it happened I felt ashamed of what I had done to Brent before, and even though it didn’t feel as bad as what my father did, I felt miserable about it in that brief second.

            It was almost gone, until the hit from dad came again. When he had punched Brent, the feeling of shame returned but this time lingered over me. I felt a sharp pain in my stomach, and I couldn’t watch this happen to him. For some reason I just couldn’t look away. It was like watching a car wreck happen right in front of you. It’s a horrible thing to see, but it never happens too often that you have to watch it. You have to see what’s going happen next. Sometimes you get to help out as soon as it ends. You can help those in the wreck, or act as a witness to testify against the guilty. I couldn’t testify this. I couldn’t speak to either of them.

I don't know why I didn't say anything. After it happened, I grew into brother mode again, as Brent and I had been before the madness had happened. I wanted to put myself between them, and let him get his justice this time. As much as I hated what he did with his boyfriend, and how he liked the wrong group of people, I knew for a fact that the hit was a wrong move to put onto him. It was a move that lowered the respect I had for my father immensely.

Now that brotherly instinct wanted to come back again. I tried to get it to heel, to stay back from me, but it wouldn’t follow my orders. The best I could do was show Chad that the protective feelings were still nonexistent.

"So he doesn't want to talk to people. Let him be." I shrugged it off successfully. Chad's comment was past me now, and the instincts I had of saving Brent went the other direction. Soon long gone from where I was.

“You don't get it. Before he hung up he said some...things." He looked down, deciding whether to tell me or not. I think he was having a hard time deciding if I would listen. Maybe that was just me considering that for the benefit of forgetting him.

"Like what?" I guess I decided to listen to what he had to say. I might as well have since it may hold some importance to me.

"He felt like he wasn’t worth anything to anyone. That if he would disappear, no one would care about him, or even notice that he was gone."

"What did you say back?" I asked, more forcibly than I should. My worry was probably showing, and I tried to not reveal it as worry, but to show it off as annoyance.

"That I was there for support. That wasn't enough to him. He thought I would live through it eventually."

"Maybe you would."

"Will you listen to yourself?" He was yet another person who yelled at me. Lately, it seemed like those who seemed like they would never yell at me always would. "Did you not hear what you just said?"

"I did. I know what I said." It was partly untrue. It'd be hard to comprehend his death, but I already had started the breaking away process before this sudden disappearance. Maybe if I cut myself from him completely before it had been discovered that he was gone....

"Why don't you understand that he might be planning on killing himself?” He asked, I could see him holding back pain. Probably because I was holding back too, but I was doing it successfully.

“I do. Trust me, I figured that out from your explanation.”

 “Then why is it not hard for you to face it? Do you not see what he's been going through? For starters, he's lost a brother who matters to him, more than anything." I looked at him skeptically. "Yes, more than anything! He even told me that you were what mattered in his coming out process, and that's why he was so afraid to tell you the truth. On top of being rejected by you, he's lost his own birth mother to a religion, and a father who had beaten him before he could say goodbye. He's lost all hope in you, and in me too. Why can't you understand that this is too overwhelming for him to handle on his own? He needs someone else's help, and it can't be me. It has to be yours."

I could save him, I really could. He was my biological brother, and my twin to continue that point. Chad was right that I was saying nonsense before. I had to support him, like I wanted to before. It’s just that, when a chance comes and you don’t take it, you almost never get a second chance. The fate is set by your own mistake, even if you try to fix it.

"Do you know where he called from?" Trying to fix it was the only thing I could do right now.

"Not really,” he told me with a little more hope. Of course he was disappointed with his answer, but I know he could tell the difference in my tone of voice. It had changed across a wide range within two separate sentences. “He said he was staying somewhere, but he didn't give me any place or specific detail of where he was."

“Was there anyone else he could have stayed with?” I grabbed the keys on the hooks near the door, and went to my car. I shut the door behind me, and Chad followed me.

“No, there wasn’t. He was staying with me when he was gone from your home. When I was thinking about it I couldn’t think of any place he would be, but you know him better than I do.”

“That’s what I thought before, until he found you.” A pinch of jealousy began to arouse in my voice.

“Really?” I nodded. “How could you think I knew more than you could? He was so close to you. Whenever we would talk, some time in the conversation it would be about you.”

“Hm. I always thought you were the one he went to about him being gay.”

“Well yes…”
            “See,” I said, showing I proved my point.

“But, when he did it was about telling you, or how you reacted.” He reflected the ball back into my court. I let it sit there, bouncing.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” We were silent as we got into the car. I felt wrong about what I had thought of him before. I thought he constantly told others before me what was going on with him, but it turned on he only had to so he could explain what he was going through. It made sense when I actually thought about it, and didn’t let my rage control me. I wish I had caught that the first time, so that the mistake after mistake I produced wouldn’t have made such a huge avalanche from a small icicle.

“So do you think he would stay with any of your friends?” He brought me out of my regretful thoughts.

“No, that wouldn’t be possible. Yesterday I was hanging out with them and the ones we knew well enough were there the whole time.” I tried to think of where he would go, or at least I would go. Then my memory had recalled the first time he dumped the first batch of information about who he was on top of me. When I couldn’t stand being inside that house I had gone to the bay about half an hour from here. If we had always gone there before, there wasn’t any way he could forget it now. No matter how old we had gotten. I couldn’t imagine him being there around this time of the day. It would get dark in an hour or two at the most. It was worth the shot, I guess.

“I think I know where he is,” I said, putting the car in gear. I drove on the highway again to the bay, only going about thirty miles less than I did the last time I went that direction.

“Where did he go?” He faced me, curious of my response and anxious to see if he would be okay where he was.

“To the bay where we used to go together when we would try and figure out things in our lives. We used to go there as children, too.” I had told him this quickly, and he asked where it was. “At the rate we’re going, maybe fifteen minutes southeast of here.”

            “Okay.” We were silent the trip there, he looked out the window as I watched the road. There was no obvious connection to us, except the worry of our brother and that felt hardly mutual to me. I’ve been hoping the whole way that he wouldn’t try anything stupid, or at least we would get him before he had the chance to. I needed to show him he was okay to me. I needed some kind of forgiveness. If I was stuck in this guilt, I wouldn’t know what to do. Saying I might end up taking my own life seemed drastic, and only pressed by the circumstances Brent was taking. It was a random thought, and I did not plan on following through with it. At least not now when Brent might still be alive.

            What could I even say if I saw him? That I was sorry? One apology wasn’t enough, especially with what I did to him. He would never accept it; he would think there was no true emotion value to it. I couldn’t make up a reason for it, either. I did it because I acted on stupidity. Rachel was right; I wasn’t a true Christian committed to the word.

            Rachel needed me to say I was sorry as well. There were many people I turned my back to during my time of misguided ideas. Rachel was the next, feeling the blunt side of my anger like Brent did. Peter got the joker card by our table laughing him away. My father was one more, who wasn’t worthy enough for me to face him again anyways. He deserved the cold shoulder until I could forgive him.

            I had to focus on Brent first. I had to think where he would be if he was going there. When we arrived, my first thought was to check out the public beach. No cars were parked along the lot, and no one was near the water.

            “Where is he?” Chad asked through the silence. I scanned the beach again before I replied.

            “Not here.”

            “Is this it?”

            ‘No,” I replied. “Not all of it anyways.” I pulled out of the parking spot I was in and as soon as I was parallel to the beach, I drove forward. I continued down the road turning slightly away from the beach, but not drifting to far from the ocean’s shore.

            “Where are we going to then?” I guessed not too many people knew about the ledge that was over the ocean. I thought a lot of people did, or it seemed that way before.

            “East Brook Ledge.”

            “Where?”

            “You’ll see.” It was many miles west from the beach. We drove up a small increase in elevation, and once we reached the top, the road turned away from the ocean. Straight ahead was an underused gravel road, which was the correct way to follow if we were going where I assumed he was.

            “Is this the right way?” Chad asked me, unsure of what was going on. The rocks crumbled against my tires, and we began going into a wall of trees. Chad kept looking around us, looking at the trunks next to us, and the canopies blocking the light above. I kept my eyes on the winding road, already remembering the surroundings, but unsure of where I was going.

            “Just wait Chad.” I sounded forceful, or angry. The problem was I just needed to concentrate. The silent ride we had before came back, and we didn’t exchange any other kinds of conversation.

            The dirt under the road contrasted more and more to the gray rocks. Some of the rocks I drove on were sinking into the road as it was smoothing itself out. After not too many yards, there was road at all. The trees were no longer in a huge cluster, but you had to look through the openings to see maybe a mile ahead. Light shone more through the top of them, and I had to regurgitate parts of my memory to go in the right direction.

            I drove on the grass ahead of me, the trees still keeping a formation as if the road was there. There were two openings, and I drove down the left. It headed towards the sea, so it must be where the ledge was. I kept driving that direction, the trees cluttered in random patterns. Pretty soon I had to go around rocks too big to go over, and trees that stood in the middle of the opening.

            “Is this the right-“

            “I’m pretty sure it is,” I interrupted him. “The area is just a lot older that before. Everything has changed since the last time.” He nodded in understanding, and I kept on going. In a distant breech to my right, I could see more light. There wasn’t an easy way to go straight to it, so I kept going forward, hoping I could reach it.

            As I did, going around a few more tress jutting out of the ground, the trees began to come more and more into each other again. The light I was watching for was slowing down, allowing for us to catch up to it side by side. I looked directly to my right, my eyes checking it through Chad’s window.

            “Jack!” Chad yelled to me, I looked ahead and saw this time two trees in front of me. I slammed on the brakes, and Chad and I slammed forward. We recoiled back to our seats, moving the car in the process. He was huffing a little, and I was staring forward. The front tree was barely away from the hood of the car. When I saw past the tree in front of us, there were more trees around us at three sides. I viewed the place we were sitting at from left to right, and we had started passing the gap where the light was shown.

            “I went the wrong way,” I said with defeat.

            “How do you know? Cant we just go around these?”
            “I went the wrong way! Look over there,” I said pointing to the right direction. “That’s where we need to go.”

            “Go back.”

            “What?”
            “Just go back, and go the right way.” I let out a frustrating groan, but I did what he said, and turned the car around.   I felt like I was wasting time by driving around someplace I had no clue where I would end up.

            I headed back, going the fastest I could over the disordered ground. It wasn’t much, only twenty miles per hour, but I was pushing it at that. Chad would probably tell me to slow it down if he wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t sure what he was scared of. It was probably me, since I almost totaled the car. I chuckled at the thought of his first impression of my driving skills, and he looked at me with ‘what is his deal?’ written all over his face.

            I stopped laughing, and held tightly to the well. The brush was still coming, and I hadn’t reached the fork in the road yet. We were losing time, and it seemed like if something had happened it already would have. Brent knew where he was going, since he was always better with those things. I discarded those thoughts, believing that he was still alive. Holding the thought of him still thinking of what to do, or about going back. Clinging onto him still breathing. Breath after breath, not ending by an unnatural order.