Age 18
I wake, suddenly, to the sound of cars driving by. The first thing I'm aware of is the hard ground grinding into my cheek, and the second is the hot sun beating down on my back. I use my arms to push myself up, groaning as my sore muscles protest. I recognize where I am, the brightly painted Renaissance Festival sign is a dead give away, even if it's a different color than I remember. I went there just last year on a school trip. However, that's all I understand.
How did I get here? The last thing I remembered was… was. I panic, sitting in the dirt, searching my memory for what I was doing last. It comes too slowly for comfort, the strangely distant memory of my parents' bedroom, endless tears, and a box thrown at the wall. It's not exactly a comforting memory, but my fear increases when I realize I'm not even wearing the same clothes now as I was then.
It's at that point that I realize that I'm glowing. Not a lot, but enough for me to see in the harsh sunlight of the Sonoran desert. I yelp in surprise as the glow intensifies, and then fades. What the actual heck?
I'm interrupted by a car pulling over to my side of the road. It parks, and a middle aged woman gets out.
"Oh my gosh, are you ok? You poor girl, how'd you get all the way out here?" She runs over to me as I stand, wobbly.
"I…I don't know." I tell her, starting to cry. She puts an arm around me and ushers me toward her car. I hesitate at getting in the car with a stranger, but given the circumstances, it's not my worst option.
"What's your name, sweetheart?"
"Ally." I choke out between sobs.
"Ok, Ally, I'm going to take you to the police station up the road from here, ok? They can help you." I just nod. She helps me into her car and we drive down the highway. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and am stunned to find a face I don't recognize. Its me, but older, several years older.
What happened to me?
We drive in silence until we reach the police station. She helps me out of the car and leads me inside. She talks to an officer, who then ushers me into another room, a lounge of some sort. The lady leaves before I realize that I never got her name. I sit in silence, no longer crying, but with tears on my cheeks.
Two officers walk in and take seats opposite me. There's a man and a women, both with kind eyes and sympathetic faces. A distant part of me wonders who's good cop and who's bad cop until I realize it doesn't apply here.
"My name is Jane, and this is my partner Alex." The female officer says. "Can you tell me your full name?"
"Ally Elizabeth Pernix." The male officer, Alex, types it into a tablet.
"Ally, I want you to know that you're safe now, ok? We're going to ask you some questions and then we're going to see if we can get you home, ok?" I nod. "How old are you?"
"12," I answer, even though it feels wrong. Jane knows something is wrong too.
"What's your date of birth?" Her tone has changed, it's more concerned, less comforting.
"January 18, 1994." I tell her quietly. She frowns
"Ally, it's 2012." I struggle to do the math in my head, then struggle to accept the number I come up with. 18. I'm 18.
Alex pulls something up on his tablet. It's a missing poster. It's me. I've been missing for half a decade.
A part of my brain already knows this. It's being held hostage by the majority of me that's struggling to process anything.
Jane gives me a hug while Alex continues to type away. They don't ask any more questions, though I know they must want to. Jane brings me water. They leave to go talk to someone else. I sit and stare at the wall.
Eventually we end up in a police cruiser. I look out the window. We pass the Renaissance Festival sign. They are taking me home. I wonder if they called ahead to tell my parents or if it will be a surprise. I am distracted from that though when we pass familiar parts of town that have been updated, replaced, or deserted. It hits me that the world is not the same. At the time, I do not understand how much that is true.
What hits harder is the open front door of my home, and the lizard that darts out of it as we pull up. Alex tells me to stay put while he and Jane investigate. They come back minutes later, somber expressions on their faces.
"There's nobody home. I'm not technically allowed to do this, but you can go inside if you want." Jane tells me, while Alex pulls out his radio.
"I have to see…" I'm not sure what, but I have to. I walk through the familiar front door, noting little changes. There's new pictures in the frames, decorations have been moved. The carpet in the useless front room had been changed. I walk straight to my parents' bedroom.
"This is where I last remember being." I say, not to anyone in particular, though Jane is behind me and hears every word. I move toward the wall, where there is a dent, like something was thrown at the wall. Because something was.
If only I knew what.
—
"I'll take care of her." My grandmother's voice reassures the police. Not just Jane and Alex, but the backup they called and the lady from Child Protective Services who came with, not long after I stared at the wall for longer than I know. Grandma shuts the door after they walk out, then shuffles over to where I sit at the counter. Despite being short, my maternal grandmother was a force to be reckoned with, a trait she'd passed on to my mother, who'd passed it onto me.
"They said they'd call us if they had any news of your father or brothers. It's a top priority case." Grandma sighs. "They say you don't remember about five years." I nod, tears welling up again. She leans in to hug me, and that's when I finally register what she said.
"What about Mom? You said father or brothers…" Grandma grasps my shoulders, looking into my eyes with pain and sorrow, but also strength.
"About a year after you disappeared, your mother lost her battle with cancer. She'd been getting worse ever since you left, and she couldn't hold on. I'm so sorry." I cry into her shoulder as she holds me. I shake and sob until my throat is ragged and I can't breathe.
Grandma just holds me. She's already been through this, and even though losing a child never gets easier, comfort others had always come natural to her. She know to let me cry myself out. She know to make me drink water. She knows that if I go to sleep, the tears will dry and life will be a little bit easier to manage.
She knows other things too, but she doesn't share them yet. So I listen, because I am still a child, even though the calendar disagrees. I go to sleep and I dream of my mother. A happy dream of us, where we are both healthy and complete. She laughs and I smile and everything is right with the world.
It's the last happy dream in a long time.