I hope you're still there when I get back, not bothering to tell Jesse when that would be. He had no car, no money, and nowhere to go even if he wanted to leave. Locked up again, Jesse thought ruefully, turning on the coffee maker. Just with less meth this time.

He spent the afternoon gulping down cups of coffee and exploring his new "temporary residence." Though everything looked the same, something was different The house was neat, almost too neat, just like Charlie's revamped, put together personality. The Charlie he fell in love with was a ball of chaos: call and collected one moment, laughing uncontrollably or flinging herself off cliffs the next. Present day Charlie, much like her house, was organized, anesthetized, medicated even.

During their last, brief romance, when they were both deeply committed to spending the as much of the day as possible with mind-alerting substance, the house was a wreck. Food debris and beer bottle littered the living room, mismatched shoes piled up by the door, empty pizza boxes sitting in an empty fridge. Now, her fridge was well-stocked and covered with reminders of having a life: several pictures of her with the little girl from the living room pictures, a white board with a week's worth of event reminder scrawled on it, take out menus, and in the very center, an envelope addressed to Charlie.

Jesse recognized the handwriting immediately as his own; the return address stamped in the corner was for the rehab facility Mr. White checked him into after Jane's death. Jesse pulled the magnet holding the envelope off the fridge. The envelope fell into his open hand. There were slight smudges on the paper and the edges were worn, the back flap was practically hanging off. She'd read the letter. Not just once or twice, but several times by the looks of the envelope.

He knew what was inside: as part of his recovery, he was supposed to contact anyone who his addiction had harmed. What started as a letter apologizing for Charlie's fall down the stairs and torn MCL, ended up with Jesse admitting to her that the first time he tried meth was the day she disappeared.

It was November, the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, the year after Jesse graduated. Charlie was in her senior year, with an early acceptance letter to Berkeley sitting on her desk. She'd move there in August and Jesse would follow, getting a minimum wage job and whatever apartment he could afford near campus.

Jesse still drove Charlie to school every morning; she had her license but never bothered with buying a car, since Jesse already had one. He dropped her off that day, making a show as usual of kissing her before she got out of the car, as a reminder to anyone that forgot that she was taken.

Like usual, he returned to the school parking lot at 2:30, and waited for her to emerge from the school, hoodie slung over her shoulders and a mischievous grin on her face. The surge of people slowed to a trickle, but there was still no sign of Charlie. Jesse fidgeted and looked at his cell phone. No missed calls. The stragglers were leaving the building now, but still no Charlie. He recognized one of her teammates and ran over.

"Yo, Kate, you see Charlie in there?" he asked.

Kate frowned, "No, she was in my second period class and got called out. Never came back. Maybe she had a doctor's appointment and just forgot to tell you?"

"Thanks," Jesse said, jogging back to his car, his cellphone already at in his hand. Her phone went straight to voicemail. Jesse peeled out of the parking lot and on to the main road, driving towards a cafe a couple miles down the road where Charlie would study sometimes. The place was packed; Jesse rushed around to each table, hoping to catch a glimpse of her bright red hair, but she wasn't there.

Minutes later, his car screeched onto the Preston's street, and Jesse tumbled out of the car, tripping over his own feet in his rush to get to the door. He recognized Livi's car in the driveway, home for Thanksgiving. Jesse pounded on the door frantically. No answer. He pressed the doorbell, ringing it several times in quick session. He could hear someone running up or down the stairs inside.

"LIVI!" he yelled, "I know you're in there, yo, where's Charlie?"

No answer.

"WHERE IS SHE LIVI?!"

Still no answer. Jesse pounded on the door in frustration. "Please," he begged, nearly in tears as he realized something was wrong, "Please! Just tell me where she is."

There was a long pause. "She's not here, Jess," Livi answered back. "She's not here."

"Then where? Where is she?"

Jesse could hear the sadness in Livi's voice as she replied. "I-I-I don't know, Jesse. She's just not here. Please, just go. Just go. It'll be worse if you're here when my parents get back."

But he didn't leave. He dropped against the door and called Charlie's phone again and again, and was sent straight to her voicemail each time. Tears streamed silently down his cheeks. Charlie would never just disappear, not without him. They had a plan. He banged his fist absent-mindedly against the door every once in awhile, just to remind Livi he was still there.

It was dark by the time the Preston's SUV pulled into the driveway, headlights nearly blinding Jesse as he stood up. They pulled straight into the garage, closing the door before Jesse even had a chance to leave the porch. Pissed off, he started knocking and ringing the doorbell, asking again and again where Charlie was.

The wooden door opened slightly, and Mr. Preston stepped out, closing the door behind him before Jesse had a chance to push it open. "You need to leave," he said flatly, not looking at Jesse.

"Where is she? Where's Charlie?"

"If you don't leave," he replied, turning the doorknob. "We will call the police." He disappeared back inside. Jesse continued banging on the door, screaming at the Prestons for answers. He continued until the cops showed up, pulling him away from the door and into the squad car. They didn't cuff him, but they wouldn't listen when he insisted he wasn't trespassing.

They drove him to his parent's house, even though he hadn't lived there in almost a year. His shoulder sagged as his mother opened the door, her look turning from curious to furious as her eyes fell on Jesse. "But I don't understand," she said as the police officer explained the situation, "how can he be trespassing at his girlfriend's house?"

Jesse continued calling Charlie's phone and continued getting voicemail. Depressed, he headed to Emilio's. Emilio always had a decent stash of pot to sell Jesse, who wanted nothing more than to smoke himself into a stupor at that moment. Emilio didn't have pot, but he offered Jesse something else, something he promised would make Jesse feel better: meth.

Charlie showed up around 3pm, making as much noise as a person possibly could while unlocking the door.

"Cigarettes," she said, tossing the a pack of Parliments to Jesse, who had been dozing on the couch, missed them and they bounced off his face to the floor.

"You remembered," he said, scooping the pack up off the floor.

"You called like two hours ago and asked for one thing."

Jesse stuck a cigarette in his mouth and shook the pack, "Parliments."

Charlie shrugged, "Lucky guess." Her eyes fell on the envelope from the fridge, which Jesse left sitting on the table. "I don't mind you going through my stuff," she said, gingerly folding the letter back up, "just...just put it back where it goes when you're done."

"Got a light?" Jesse asked, avoiding her eyes.

"There's uh, there's a candle lighter in the kitchen. That should work."

Jesse followed Charlie into the kitchen, where she rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a lighter. She handed it to Jesse without a word, then purposefully stuck the envelope back in its proper place on the fridge. Jesse walked out to the back porch, lighting up his cigarette the minute his foot crossed the threshold. He leaned against the railing and looked out towards the skyline of Albuquerque, thinking to himself that this whole situation was a bad idea.

"I wrote you back," Charlie said quietly. Jesse turned. She was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed and surveying him calmly.

"Never got it."

"I never sent it," she replied. "I called the rehab place, but they couldn't tell me if you were still there and if you'd ever get it. So I called your mom...and she had no idea where you were. Didn't even know you were in rehab...said she hadn't seen you since she kicked you out of your aunt's house."

Jesse exhaled smoked through his nose. He couldn't think of anything he wanted to talk about less than his stint in rehab. "Yeah, well..."

"You didn't need to apologize; I never blamed you for my knee. I was drunk..." She was fidgeting with something silver on a small chain around her neck, her fingers moving nervously over the object again and again. Jesse recognized what it was instantly.

"Yeah well, the counselor said I had to, so I did," he walked over to her and grabbed her wrist, pulling the necklance away from her. "You still got this?"

Charlie gave a quick nod and looked up at him, "I couldn't throw it away," she said as he dropped the ring.

"I figured, the way you left-"

Charlie let out a small laugh of astonishment. "You still think I left on purpose?"

Jesse said nothing. The glint of the promise ring he nervously gave her nine years ago caught his eye as he turned back to the porch railing.

"I didn't, Jesse."

"Yeah, sure."

"I didn't."

"You just take off and don't call, or write, or sending a fucking carrier pigeon with a note or something," Jesse said, growing more and more agitated, "What am I supposed to think, huh?"

Charlie closed her eyes and gulped. "Can we just drop this, ok? I don't wanna talk about this right now." When Jesse didn't reply, she turned to walk back into the house.

"Hey," Jesse called over his shoulder. "You remember what I said when I gave that to you?"

Charlie turned slightly and smiled. "You said, 'Yo, I think I wanna marry you some day.'"

Jesse did his best to force a smile before stamping out his cigarette. The sound of rushing water came from the kitchen, and Jesse felt a slight pang of guilt about the pile of dishes he left in the sink. He sunk into one of the wooden chairs on the porch and sighed, closing his eyes and falling asleep almost instantly.
* * * * * * * * * *