Blog #5: Loneliness, Frustration, and a Speck of Hope

It was the fifth night since his mother’s disappearance, and Kit’s sense of guilt only grew with each moment. After yet another day of futile searching and asking around -how could nobody have seen her?- Kit found himself in his bed, worn down but sleepless. For what seemed like the billionth time, he wondered if his mom would still be with him if he had responded differently; if he had shown her the support she had wanted. Instead, he had stomped off like a child, too immature to think of anyone’s feelings but his own.

Tired of being angry, yet unable to do anything else, Kit got out of bed and trudged out of the apartment. Muddled in his thoughts, he soon found himself walking down the courtyard between Maitland East and West. It was disconcerting to be out there, in the middle of two very different pieces to a whole, rich and poor, and, for a moment, he forgot all about his mother. But, as always, the momentary peace gave way to deeper remorse: how could he think about anything other than his poor old mother?

Thinking over the details of the night his mother had disappeared, Kit felt deeply frustrated at his inability to uncover a single clue that would lead him a step closer to finding his mom. He reported the disappearance to the police but, due to lack of any proof of kidnapping -and more importantly, their obsession with the murder of Mr. Evans- they were of absolutely no help at all.

At this point, he wished he had someone -anyone- to help him, and in his misery, he banged the back of his head on the bench. That’s when he saw the star. A blazing hot speck shooting across the sky, and at first, he wished he wished his mother would come back, yet inadvertently, he added a second wish: he wished he had as good a sense of direction in life as that hurtling rock did.

Blog #4: A Conversation with an Unexpected Acquaintance

As Kit trudged through the snow, he wished he’d worn a coat, but there was no way he was going back and facing to his mother.

Kit had never been to the bar at this time and none of the booths were empty, so he had to sit at the counter.

Soon enough, Nik, not much older than Kit himself, yelled, ““Hey, what can I get you?”

Kit, still numbed by his mother’s words, looked up a second too late.

“I’m good thanks.”

Nik chuckled. “Please don’t tell me you’re here for the food. Our ‘heavenly cheesy fries’ lean more toward hellish.”

“I’m not hungry”

“Drinks?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Some milk, then?”

Kit flashed him a look of what he hoped was contempt.

“Hey, I’m sorry, Kit.” Nik said awkwardly. “It’s just… this is a bar, you know?”

Kit didn’t reply.

“C’mon,  what’s up?” Nik prompted, leaning across the bar.

“I-” Kit cleared his throat and started again, “my father, who abandoned my mom for another woman, is dating my mom.”

God, that sounds even worse when I say it out loud!

“Wow, that divorce was messy… the whole town knew about it.” Nik pauses, and starts again, “You don’t have to hang around him too, though.”

“I know. But...I can’t just abandon her the way my father did! Ugh, they’ve been in touch the past couple weeks - I don’t get how I missed it!”  

“Everybody has ghosts and secrets, especially in this town. They lie, cheat, and manipulate... Just be there for her when he leaves.”

“Yep, there to pick up the broken pieces as usual.”

“Look, at least you have a mom who cares.” Nik sounded bitter.

Kit came up short. “Hey, I’m sorry...about that.” He stammered, “What exactly happened?”

“Well, they blew the money I’d saved for college on booze and drugs. And, as usual, the kid ran away from home and blah-d-blah!” Nik laughed dryly.

Despite his efforts to seem nonchalant, Kit could tell it had meant a lot to Nik. Nonetheless, Kit wasn’t one to push.

“Wow, I’m so sorry, dude…”

“It sucks, but… that’s life.” Nik sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

“I have to work. See you around.” He turned and left.

Kit remained seated, turning his phone off as it rang for the ninth time.

His second regrettable action within the span of an hour.

Blog #3: Unexpected News

Ping!

It was the fifth time his mother had received a message notification since they had sat down for dinner. Kit glanced down at the phone, which his mother had placed with the screen down, and looked back up at his mother's face. She pretended to not notice the text and continued to twirl the fork in her bowl of spaghetti, but Kit knew something was up. Something to do with the sudden reappearance of his father.

Kit watched as his mother kept playing with her food. She had barely eaten a mouthful.

"Is something wrong, mom?"

Kit still hadn’t confronted his mother about the night of the concert- he wanted to see how long it would take for her to tell him herself. So far, she hadn’t mentioned a thing, and when Kit asked where she had disappeared to during the show, the only response he got was an almost inaudible mumble about getting “lost in the dark.”

She looked up just a moment late, but Kit noticed the slow response.

“Oh no, dear! I’m doing great… not too hungry is all.”

“Well, you don’t have to eat it just ‘cause I made it. I know I’m not much of a cook!” Kit smiled half-heartedly.

His attempt at lightening the mood was met by a dry chuckle and blank eyes.  

“Really though, are you doing fine - with everything else? You’ve been looking really lost since last week.”

She smiled at her plate, not meeting Kit’s eyes. When she finally did look up, she had a strange glint in her eyes.

“I’m seeing your father again.”

“WHAT?” Of all the reasons Kit had imagined, his parents' dating wasn’t close to one. Even in the slightest.

“What do you mean you’re SEEING him?” He yelled, much louder than he’d intended, but he didn’t care one bit. 

“Is that what was happening at the concert the other night? Yes! I saw you!”

Instead of denying it, she heaved a sigh and began, “Your father is not a terrible man, Kit. I-”

Kit could not believe she was defending him - that bastard of a man! He’d had enough.

“I-I need some air. Show yourself 0ut before I’m back.” He stomped out of the apartment, slamming the door on his way out.

... 

Unfortunately, the hurt look on his mother's face as he stormed off would be his last interaction with her for a while...

Blog #2: An All-Too-Familiar Voice

Watching the shadows lurking on the streets as the cab trudged toward the amphitheater, Kit couldn’t help but wonder if this was a bad idea. The boost of confidence he had felt that morning when he heard the words “I used to care of the ghosts and spirits, but things have changed,” seemed like a distant memory.

As the sky turned from a pinkish hue to a deep purple, Kit wondered why he didn’t have the motivation to tell his mother, “I told you so, mom!” Perhaps it was because he was unconsciously hoping that she was right. Maybe the courage he always associated with her would somehow rub off on him. Kit turned to look at his mother, recognizing his own golden brown eyes and chocolate hair on her. Unfortunately, it looked like physical appearances were going to be the only sources of similarities between the mother and son. Stifling a sigh, Kit turned back toward the window and watched as his breath fogged the glass. He decided he would be brave for his mother, no matter how scared he actually was.

…

Two hours into the concert and Kit felt nothing but the numbing freedom of the music reverberating through his bones. At the moment, he was oblivious to all else, including the darkening sky and the fact that his mother had not returned from the restroom for over an hour. As Conrad began transitioning into another song, Kit finally realized his mother was missing and made his way through the crowd, clanging elbows and stepping on shoes.

Finding an old man leave the only porta-potty in sight, Kit’s heart started to pound and his mind began to race: where could she have disappeared to? As he made his way to the parking lot, he pulled out his phone and called her. No answer. That was strange, she always answered her phone, or texted back, at the least. Cursing as the phone slipped through his suddenly clammy hands and hit the granite, Kit heard his mother’s voice and another, a derisive one that was all-too-familiar: his father’s.

The man had abandoned Kit and his mother seven years ago, only turning up with his new girlfriend to pick up the Lexus that he had snagged via asset division. Kit hated him with all his being.  So, why were his father and mother in contact with each other, let alone meeting without his knowledge?

Blog #1: Night Seeps Into Day

The day started with a persistent throbbing in Kit’s skull. But as he opened his eyes, he realized it was the rain pattering against his window panes, beyond which he could see nothing but darkness and the haze of city lights. As he automatically reached for his phone on the ebony nightstand, he heard rustling. He froze.

“Who’s there?”

There was no answer.

Though he lived in an apartment on the posher side of the building, there always seemed to be the occasional sound of rusty pipes or creaky floorboards, and so, hearing strange noises in this little apartment wasn’t unusual for Kit. But now things were different. Ever since Mr. Evans -the kindly old man who handed candy to kids- had died, Kit had grown paranoid, double and triple-checking the locks and always placing the watermelon knife in the nightstand drawer.

When his mother had come over the day before with the excuse of bringing him Pot pie, she had said he was going insane. At the time, Kit had wondered if she was right; maybe he was being overly cautious. Nonetheless, a weapon at-hand didn’t seem like a bad idea when one considered the treacherous combination of his nyctophobia and a potential murderer at large.

As Kit held his breath and clutched the knife to his chest, he asked again, “Who is it??” Fortunately, he thought, his voice wasn’t trembling as much as the first time. He leaped lightly out of bed and flipped the switch: no one was there. But before allowing himself to relax, Kit walked into each of the three bedrooms and bathrooms, checking under every table and behind every shower curtain. Finally, he returned to the warmth of his bed, only to be woken by the buzzing of his alarm a half-hour later.

This time, a couple of sun rays were peeking into Kit’s apartment, illuminating it just enough to give Kit the confident stride he lacked in the dark. Easing into his weekday schedule, Kit showered, gave his mother a good morning call, and headed to his first class of the day, Microbiology 201; the night’s events temporarily out of mind.

However, though the things Kit feared the most, nighttime and the darkness that defines it, were gone, the cause of Mr. Evans’ horrific death was still about. So was the cause of the previous night’s rustling. What if the two were, in fact, from the same source?