"Frank, you need to pack," Fenton said, frowning at his eldest son who sat at the kitchen table scanning the personal columns of the New York Times.
"He's right," concurred Laura. "Your orientation begins tomorrow."
"How can I go?" demanded Frank, scowling as he dropped the paper on the table. "We haven't found Joe yet."
"Frank, your brother has been gone for over a month," Fenton told him. "You can't keep your life on hold in the hope he will return. Even if he did..."
"When he does," Laura corrected him.
Fenton didn't even look at her. They had been over the issue every day and no matter how dim the chances seemed, Laura refused to accept the fact that Joe might never come home. "If he does come home," Fenton continued. "Things will be different. Even though the whole thing was a misunderstanding, we hurt Joe. He'll never trust us the way he once did."
"Why should he?" Frank asked miserably. "I don't even trust me. How could I have done that to him? I love him. Why did I have to open my big mouth? I didn't mean it the way it sounded."
"We know," Laura said, patting his hand. "And you aren't the only one to be blamed," she added. "He never left until...until..." she broke off as she leapt to her feet and left the room. She found her own part in Joe's disappearance unbearable.
"I know it's hard," Fenton continued his lecture. "But you have to let go."
"You're giving up!" accused Frank in shock. He glared at his father in pure hatred.
"Never!" vowed Fenton. "But we can't put our lives in limbo until we do find him. I want you to go upstairs and pack. Your orientation begins tomorrow and you will attend."
"You're right," admitted Frank in resignation. "I know you are. But I miss him so much," he confessed, his own emotions as raw as his mother's. "I...I'll go and pack," he said as he slowly rose and left the room.
Two weeks later, Frank was sitting under a tree across the street from the dormitory he had been assigned to for the fall semester. He watched the people passing back and forth in front of him and sighed. He couldn't do this. Two months ago he couldn't wait to get away from home and, yes, even Joe, for a little while. He had been ready to enjoy his freedom; enjoy worrying about nothing but his grades and classes. But now, even thinking about leaving home made him ill.
I can't do this, he thought. He knew now that even if Joe hadn't run away there was no way he would ever have enjoyed his freshman year. Life just wasn't the same without his brother.
Frank pulled out his cell phone and called home. "Any word on Joe yet?" he asked, hearing his father's voice on the other end.
"No," replied Fenton giving the same answer he did every time Frank called. "And still no answer to the advertisements."
"Maybe we should put them in more papers," suggested Frank.
"Son, the ad is running in every major paper for the rest of the year or until your brother returns and we cancel it," Fenton said wearily. He had already told Frank this; had already explained that local papers did not accept long-term advertisements such as this one. Frank knew the idea was impractical as well as illogical. Joe wouldn't hide out in a small town. He wouldn't be able to hide and that was what he was doing. He had to know his family would be looking for him. Didn't he?
"I'm coming home," Frank announced.
"I know," Fenton replied. "Your orientation ends..."
"No," Frank interrupted him. "I'm coming home for good. I'm not going to college."
"Frank, we've been over this," Fenton stated with a warning in his voice that Frank ignored.
"I know," Frank said. "But I just can't. I don't want too. I want to go into business with you."
"Son, you need a solid background," Fenton began.
"Which I will have after I've worked for you for a couple of years," Frank insisted. "Dad, please?" he begged.
"All right," Fenton caved in. He had already lost one son, he wasn't going to chance losing another. He wished Frank a safe trip home then hung up. He ran a hand through his hair letting it rest on the back of his neck. He rubbed it gently, trying to knead the tension out.
Looking at a picture on his desk, he reached over and picked it up. God! If I only knew he was al right, thought Fenton not for the first time. He wondered if Joe had found a place to stay or if he was living in a cardboard box in some alleyway. He blinked the tears away as the horrible thoughts that assaulted him at least once an hour returned with a vengeance. Was Joe still alive? Had some enemy found him and killed him or perhaps, Joe was a prisoner and being tortured on a daily basis? Letting his tears flow freely in the privacy of his office, he allowed himself time to grieve for his baby boy.
"He's right," concurred Laura. "Your orientation begins tomorrow."
"How can I go?" demanded Frank, scowling as he dropped the paper on the table. "We haven't found Joe yet."
"Frank, your brother has been gone for over a month," Fenton told him. "You can't keep your life on hold in the hope he will return. Even if he did..."
"When he does," Laura corrected him.
Fenton didn't even look at her. They had been over the issue every day and no matter how dim the chances seemed, Laura refused to accept the fact that Joe might never come home. "If he does come home," Fenton continued. "Things will be different. Even though the whole thing was a misunderstanding, we hurt Joe. He'll never trust us the way he once did."
"Why should he?" Frank asked miserably. "I don't even trust me. How could I have done that to him? I love him. Why did I have to open my big mouth? I didn't mean it the way it sounded."
"We know," Laura said, patting his hand. "And you aren't the only one to be blamed," she added. "He never left until...until..." she broke off as she leapt to her feet and left the room. She found her own part in Joe's disappearance unbearable.
"I know it's hard," Fenton continued his lecture. "But you have to let go."
"You're giving up!" accused Frank in shock. He glared at his father in pure hatred.
"Never!" vowed Fenton. "But we can't put our lives in limbo until we do find him. I want you to go upstairs and pack. Your orientation begins tomorrow and you will attend."
"You're right," admitted Frank in resignation. "I know you are. But I miss him so much," he confessed, his own emotions as raw as his mother's. "I...I'll go and pack," he said as he slowly rose and left the room.
Two weeks later, Frank was sitting under a tree across the street from the dormitory he had been assigned to for the fall semester. He watched the people passing back and forth in front of him and sighed. He couldn't do this. Two months ago he couldn't wait to get away from home and, yes, even Joe, for a little while. He had been ready to enjoy his freedom; enjoy worrying about nothing but his grades and classes. But now, even thinking about leaving home made him ill.
I can't do this, he thought. He knew now that even if Joe hadn't run away there was no way he would ever have enjoyed his freshman year. Life just wasn't the same without his brother.
Frank pulled out his cell phone and called home. "Any word on Joe yet?" he asked, hearing his father's voice on the other end.
"No," replied Fenton giving the same answer he did every time Frank called. "And still no answer to the advertisements."
"Maybe we should put them in more papers," suggested Frank.
"Son, the ad is running in every major paper for the rest of the year or until your brother returns and we cancel it," Fenton said wearily. He had already told Frank this; had already explained that local papers did not accept long-term advertisements such as this one. Frank knew the idea was impractical as well as illogical. Joe wouldn't hide out in a small town. He wouldn't be able to hide and that was what he was doing. He had to know his family would be looking for him. Didn't he?
"I'm coming home," Frank announced.
"I know," Fenton replied. "Your orientation ends..."
"No," Frank interrupted him. "I'm coming home for good. I'm not going to college."
"Frank, we've been over this," Fenton stated with a warning in his voice that Frank ignored.
"I know," Frank said. "But I just can't. I don't want too. I want to go into business with you."
"Son, you need a solid background," Fenton began.
"Which I will have after I've worked for you for a couple of years," Frank insisted. "Dad, please?" he begged.
"All right," Fenton caved in. He had already lost one son, he wasn't going to chance losing another. He wished Frank a safe trip home then hung up. He ran a hand through his hair letting it rest on the back of his neck. He rubbed it gently, trying to knead the tension out.
Looking at a picture on his desk, he reached over and picked it up. God! If I only knew he was al right, thought Fenton not for the first time. He wondered if Joe had found a place to stay or if he was living in a cardboard box in some alleyway. He blinked the tears away as the horrible thoughts that assaulted him at least once an hour returned with a vengeance. Was Joe still alive? Had some enemy found him and killed him or perhaps, Joe was a prisoner and being tortured on a daily basis? Letting his tears flow freely in the privacy of his office, he allowed himself time to grieve for his baby boy.