Finally, Ray Mabie admitted that Ash was actually his stepdaughter. Her last name was Carson, but she had elected to use Mabie even before her mother had taken her own life. While he’d never formally adopted her, he’d been a father to Ash since she was two. That was pretty much all the information he was willing to provide. With the knowledge that she had turned him in, he was reluctant to offer any possible guesses to her whereabouts. I plotted that man’s death enough over those first two weeks to secure myself a place on death row—even without committing the crime.
After two weeks, the car Ash had been driving was found abandoned at a truck stop an hour away. Bile had risen in my throat at the thought of her climbing into a random trucker’s cab. She was young and gorgeous—it wasn’t like she would’ve had a difficult time convincing some perverted scum to drive her out of town. Visions of her being taken advantage of led me to destroy my apartment until my upstairs neighbor called the cops. Not convinced that the paralyzed maniac shredding books and splintering furniture was mentally sound, they refused to leave me alone until Till showed up.
Unfortunately, he brought Eliza with him. The instant she walked into her old apartment, she burst into tears then begged me to move back into their house. But I couldn’t leave that place. I might have moved into that shithole because of the memories of Eliza, but I refused to leave because of the memories of Ash.
My life became a perpetual cycle of ups and downs. The day they found Ash’s car was really low for me. I was terrified something had happened to her. Then, two weeks later, I experienced one of the highest highs when surveillance video of her shoplifting from a convenience store turned up.
She wasn’t home, but she was still okay.
Still smiling.
Still laughing.
Still dreaming.
The private investigators Till had hired had more than proved to be good at their jobs, but Ash had proved to be better. It seemed they were always one step behind her. Luckily, she hadn’t gone far. Every time they managed to track her down, she was always within a two-hour radius of the city.
It gave me hope that she had plans to come back.
It also made me a little neurotic, because every single time I left my apartment, I unconsciously searched for her face. Every blonde I passed and every laugh I heard was always her.
It was never her.
I slept on that patch of weeds outside my apartment more times than I cared to admit over those first four weeks. She loved those damn weeds.
I just loved her.
I knew the investigators were costing Till a fortune. Though he never acknowledged that, nor did he seem to care—even as the weeks turned into months. Each time they popped up with some sort of information on the elusive Ash Mabie made them worth every penny.
Suddenly, at the one-year mark, Ash disappeared all over again.
We received a final video of her stealing clothes from a department store, narrowly escaping security. After that, she seemed to completely fall off the radar. I was devastated. Then I got pissed. Really fucking pissed. Sure, I’d said some mean shit to her, but no worse than the crap most people spouted in a fight. And there I was, using my brother’s money to stalk my ex-girlfriend.
I went to Till around the two-year mark, begging him to call the search off. He smiled and nodded, agreeing with me. He’d said all the right things, validating my feelings. Then, one month later, I received the usual “no news” e-mail update from the investigating firm. It infuriated me that he hadn’t stopped the search. We got into a huge fight that night, in which numerous punches were thrown, and it ultimately ended with us rolling around on the floor while Quarry acted as ref. Coincidentally, it was also the loudest I had laughed since Ash had taken off.
A lot of things happened over those years spent searching for Ash.
I couldn’t find her, but the most amazing thing happened: I found my fight for life again.
In desperate need of distraction, I threw myself into the gym and physical therapy. If and when I saw her again, I wanted to do it standing so I could tell her to fuck off eye to eye.
Or strip her naked and lose myself inside her.
Or send her packing without so much as a backward glance.
Or lock her in my bedroom so she could never leave again.
Or walk away, showing her exactly what she had been missing out on.
Or lie in that patch of weeds while listening to her laugh for all of eternity.
Like I said: lots of ups and downs.
I also got really serious with school, graduating from college in just two and a half years.
I added my diploma to the list of things I could throw in her face, proving how well I had done without her.
Or that I could use to provide for her forever.
One of the two.
Definitely one of the two.
But regardless of the reason, positive or negative, Ash was always my motivation.
Moving on was hard, but the world kept spinning and time never stopped.
I got older; I assumed she did too.
I got stronger; I prayed she didn’t need to.
I built a life; I hoped she did too.
I never stopped wishing she would come back; I didn’t even care if she wanted me to.
Then, on a cool Friday morning, the world stopped spinning.
And time came to a screeching halt—at least, for me.
Three years, four months, one week, and five days after Ash Mabie had taken off, I brought her home.