Oh baby, baby how was I supposed to know
oh pretty baby, I shouldn't have let you go
I must confess , that my loneliness is killing me now
Don't you know I still believe
that you will be here
And give me a sign...
(Britney Spears)
He was wearing a gray striped shirt, one I had never seen before. And very dark glasses, the kind ideal for covering deeply bloodshot eyes. His hair was a bit shorter than I remembered.
Beard. He had a beard.
That is my last memory of Charlie Pace.
It's so hard. There's too much. Not enough. All together. Frantic, helpless inactivity.
I was washing dishes. I remember that very clearly. The news was on in the background. Her voice never wavered as the stories switched from one to another. In fact I barely heard it – it almost didn't register what the anchor was saying. She was so calm, so factual.
Oceanic Flight 815, outbound from Sydney, destination Los Angeles, blipped off the radar several hours into its flight. The pilot had reported trouble and was turning toward Fiji. Their last known location was over open water in the Pacific Ocean. Rescue had been dispatched to investigate – stay tuned for further development. And now – sports!
The water ran cold before I turned it off. My mind was curiously still, almost completely blank. But not my heart. It thundered in my chest like a runaway freight. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I couldn't move. One single image flashed into my numbed brain and wouldn't leave. A man, slight, desperate, coiled, on my doorstep, pleading with me to go with him. A man I barely knew.
Charlie and I did not know each other long. Just long enough to become thoroughly entangled. It was my habit in the old days to follow bands around – brushing with celebrity. Driveshaft was the up and coming thing – so hot locally their shows were standing room only. All of my girlfriends were crazy for Liam, but my eyes never left Charlie. There was something about him. The expression on his face when he sang, the way the music took over, flowed through him.
We were all a little crazy back then, and we knew all the tricks. Getting backstage for the last show at Sydney was easy. He was relaxed back then, playful, and he loved the attention. Before long a one night stand turned into a regular thing. He was in the area for a while, we hung out together. Hanging out turned into a fairly serious affair. But of course it had to end. We had fun. He was a terrific guy – not what I expected at all. Behind the façade of booze and drugs there lurked the soul of a real poet. A man totally dedicated to his craft. I got the idea that the rest was fun, but kind of a distraction. It didn't stop him, though, from partaking with the best of them.
That was years ago. The last I heard Driveshaft split up and the Pace brothers went their separate ways. So I was shocked, amazed even, when Charlie rang my bell. He started talking the moment I opened the door, going on about how the band would be together again, that they had a new contract. He was going to America to sign. It would be like old times again. What did I think? Did I want to come? We could have fun again, just like we used to.
Of course I turned him down. I didn't even invite him in. So much past history – my days of chasing bands were over. I had changed and he... definitely had. My playful, thoughtful, slightly crazed friend seemed to have become an agitated, paranoid vengeful spirit from the past.
He was wearing a gray striped shirt and heavy, dark sunglasses. I saw behind the glasses only once, when he took them off to rub his eyes. The beautiful, sparkling blue I remembered so well had become dull, frantic, bloodshot. And then he was gone, leaving behind a tornado of emotions. Questions I can never answer.
It has been 10 days since the last time I saw Charlie Pace. The search has slowed. They seem unwilling to give up altogether, but after nearly two weeks there seems nowhere left to look. Liam is frantic, making public appeals to continue – leave no stone unturned. But where do you look when there's nothing but unbroken ocean for miles?
Even still, I understand. Quietly I too plead for them to keep looking. No matter how remote, no matter how unlikely. Don't give up on Charlie. Don't leave him alone in the cold and depths. Please.
I still believe, Charlie. Give us a sign. Please.
End