CXLIII
Two years, six months, and one day after Henry's disappearance
Dear diary,
Tomorrow is Halloween. I plan to go to Max's house to watch horror movies. Jonathan will probably go to some party with Nancy, I don't know. And Will…
Will told me about his plans in detail. He's going to spend the night at Mike's house. It was a bit awkward, but I expected him to talk to me about Mike (in one way or another) when he asked if we could talk in private.
We sat on my bed, and he couldn't stop rubbing his fingers together, clearly agitated. He kept tugging at his shirt over and over, as if it wasn't perfectly ironed. When I told him I was listening, he took a deep breath and said: "I like Mike. Always have."
Of course, I already knew. In my opinion, everyone except Mike knew.
"That's okay, Will," I said, because what else was I going to tell him?
"And he likes me too." Although he should have been stating this, it sounded more like a question. Like he was asking for permission.
The news surprised me (I thought Mike only liked girls, but well, we never got that close again after we broke up), but it didn't hurt or anything—which I suspect was what Will feared—. So, I gave him a hug.
"You're my brother," I said, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes as I realized how hard it must have been for him to tell me.
Because they're both guys. Because they're childhood friends.
Because I'm Will's sister and Mike's ex.
Since Will was also crying and seemed unable to speak, I spoke again: "I want you to be happy. Are you?" I asked him.
"I am," he said quietly, as if happiness embarrassed him. As if it were something ugly, something bad.
"That's great, Will," I said, and I started to laugh because I was happy, because Will deserves all the happiness in the world. "Then I'm happy too."
I don't really remember what else we said. Maybe we joked a bit about our similar tastes, something like that.
What I remember is that we hugged for a long time. And we cried a lot.
And when he finally left, with a red nose and a face covered in tears, he gave me a smile I don't often see on his face.
The smile of someone genuinely relieved and…
…happy.
…
I stayed in the room for a while, crying alone. I'm happy for him, really, and he knows I am.
But in moments like this, Henry's absence is much harder.
Because I don't know if I can ever be truly happy without him.
Two years, six months, and two days after Henry's disappearance
They're watching a horror movie—A Nightmare on Elm Street, since Robin has never watched it—when they hear it: a crash, like the trash can falling to the ground.
Before she can ask what's going on, Steve scoffs and pauses the movie. "Damn raccoons," he complains as he puts on his shoes. "I'll be right back." And he gets up.
"Take the shovel," Robin suggests from the couch, without moving.
"A shovel to scare off a raccoon?" Steve's incredulous tone makes it clear how unnecessary he thinks it is. "They usually run off when they see me."
"Ohoho, what a tough guy," Robin teases. And then: "Just do it; if they bite you, they could give you rabies."
"Alright, alright!" he concedes, rolling his eyes and heading for the door.
Robin hears the sound of the shovel scraping the ground and feels a little more at ease.
…
Until she hears the scream.
Startled, she jumps off the couch and runs outside. "Steve?! Are you okay?!"
There's no answer; only absolute silence.
She tries for a few more minutes. "This joke isn't funny at all!" Robin whines, her rainbow socks getting dirty with every step she takes on the wet ground.
When she decides to go back inside to put a coat on—as well as her boots— before heading out to search for him nearby, she notices something that tightens her throat.
No, there's no trace of Steve.
But there, next to the front door, is the trash can she had passed by.
And beside it…
What is left of a horribly mutilated raccoon.