An Evil Mind

I tried once. To bring him back. At the wake, in the musty-smelling funeral home laden with sorrow-cookies and sad-cakes, I said something about Sophia, how the priest who said she was a selfless and beautiful girl didn’t really know her at all. Jack had been holding a cup of water, staring into it as he stood in a corner away from the noise and crying people. He looked up at me, took in my face - red from my own crying - and closed his eyes.

“It’s over,” he said, too calmly.

“What is?” I asked, my stomach roiling. He pushed off the wall and walked away with one last word.

“Everything.”

He stopped coming to school, after that. I talked to Principal Evans about it, and he said Jack had dropped out. Harvard hadn’t revoked its early acceptance, and Jack could still theoretically go even with straight F’s for his last two quarters. But both of us knew he wasn’t going. He didn’t care, anymore.

When April came, at the almost-two-month mark of his absence, I went looking for him. I wanted to. F*ck, I really wanted to. I fought not to. I thought he needed space, thought it would help. The last thing that’d help would be seeing me. Having the crazy girl who was once your nemesis track you down would be stressful for even the most practiced Vulcan. Besides, I wouldn’t know how to help. I would just mess things up more. Say the wrong thing. Do the wrong thing.

But when Ms. Hunter came to my door one late afternoon, crying and begging for me to find him, I knew I had to start looking.

I waited until spring break. And then I started chasing a ghost.

Ms. Hunter gave me the note Jack left – it was simple and on plain white paper. He said he was leaving, not to call the cops, and that he loved her. Ms. Hunter had, in her desperation, gotten the bank to hand over his account information. The money for Sophia’s surgery had been refunded to him, and he’d then gifted most of it to someone, taking a mere four thousand for himself. Four thousand was enough to live on for a bit, sure. But almost-three months was pushing it.

He’d left all his stuff in his room, too. The only thing he took was his father’s cigar box with Sophia’s letters inside. I looked for any sign of him at Tallie’s grave. Nothing. A rose was left on Sophia’s grave, wilted. It had to be weeks old. If he’d come back after that, he would’ve put a fresh flower.

I checked the hospital. Mira and James said Jack came to see them on March 2nd – the day after Sophia’s funeral. He told them he was going away for a long time, and gave them each a brand new, massive teddy bear as a farewell gift. They’d been Sophia’s friends, but it was more than that. Sophia loved them. They were like Tallie to her - the child-Tallie she could and would never have, and Jack knew that. Jack treated them like that.

I called the Rose Club as a last ditch attempt. The operator insisted Jaden left months ago.

And that was it. All my leads, suddenly dead. Jack was slipping from my hands like midnight sand.

And then someone named Lily called. She’d overheard the Rose Club operator’s conversation with me. She was a friend of ‘Jaden’, which I insanely doubted because the only friend Jack allows himself to have is his reflection and/or his own massive dumb brain. I let her chat my ear off and agreed to meet her at a café in Columbus.

Lily was blonde and beautiful and almost six feet. From her expensive purse and perfume, I called her out instantly as an escort. She didn’t deny it, which made me like her more. She wasn’t wasting my precious time as I tried to save Jack.

Save?

I shake my head and watch the salt spray of the ocean douse a rock. Save is the wrong word. I can’t think like that. I can’t save myself, let alone another person. But for a while, I wanted to. I really wanted to. Jack of all people, deserved help. I thought I could help a little. I thought I could at least that much for him.

I laugh and chuck a rock, not bothering to skip it.

I was an idiot.

The old Isis wouldn’t have given up when Lily told me Jack came to visit her before he left town. He wouldn’t say where he was going, but he gave her a manila folder and told her if a girl named Isis ever started snooping around at the Club, to give it to her. So she did.

“He must really like you,” Lily said, inspecting her nails as I put the folder in my purse.

“Yes, well. Cobras also like mongeese. From afar. On separate sides of electric fences.”

“No, listen,” Lily leans in, one cool hand over mine. “I’ve seen a lot of men, okay? I’ve seen all types of people, too. Jack – Jack is something special. He’ll deny it, but he either cares with his whole heart about someone, or not at all. He doesn’t half-ass things. The people he bothered to leave goodbye-stuff for – those are the people he cares about in his life. You’re one of them.”

My heart felt like it was flattened by a sumo wrestler. I tried to inhale to say something, but every breath stung. I didn’t want to believe her. How could I believe her after he just took off like that?

Lily left soon after, leaving me to stare at the envelope.

The old Isis wouldn’t have given up after seeing what was inside.

He didn’t leave me a note, or a giant teddy bear. He’d given me a ticket to Paris, with the words ‘I’m sorry’ scribbled on it in his neat, large handwriting.

My eyes burned. He was trying to get rid of me.

No, c’mon Isis, don’t be dramatic. Nothing good happens when people get dramatic. Example; Amanda Bynes, those rabbits that die when their heart beats too fast, every episode of LOST ever. Jack may have been heartless, but he was also…? Also what. Also definitely not caring about me. He didn’t even say goodbye in person, and now he was sending me this ticket. He obviously wasn’t in Paris himself, asking me to join him. That was almost stupidly romantic. Jack’s a lot of things, but stupid and romantic is on the rock bottom of his attribute list, along with ‘nice’ and ‘generally tolerable’.

I told Kayla I wanted to backpack Europe multiple times, mostly jokingly. He was nearby to hear it, though, when they were dating. He must’ve seen through the joke, and realized I really wanted to. Figures.

I pull the ticket out of my pocket. It’s worn and crumpled and the plane left six days ago, but I couldn’t throw it away, or use it. He used Sophia’s surgery money to buy it for me, after all. No way in hell could I ever accept (or reject) something like that. So I just kept it. A braver Isis would’ve used it. A not-guilty Isis would’ve used it.

If I close my eyes now, I can remember when I went into Jack’s room to look for clues as to where he went. The beach fades, and I’m lying on his bed, looking at the ceiling and wondering where he is on this hellacious butthole we call Earth. And if he’s safe. Happy is too much to ask for. But as long as he’s safe, and keeps being safe, one day he can be happy again. Or so I think. I don’t actually know for sure. I’m real arrogant, saying these things like I’m sure. I never had anyone I love die. Jack’s had three.

He might never be happy again.

He might be broken forever.

His room fades, and the ocean comes back. The knot in my throat returns with a vengeance.

“I hope you’re safe, you idiot,” I whisper to the waves.

All I can do is hope, and move on. I can’t wait around. I have my own life to live. I just wish things had turned out differently, is all. Not like, us dating. Because that would be horribly, stupidly selfish slash impossible in the face of Sophia’s death. I just care about him. As a nemesis. As a rival. As the only person in the world someone who can challenge me, I want him to be acceptably healthy and functioning so we can meet up and fight again one da6. Because the fighting was fun, and I learned a lot and grew a lot from it. Just the fighting. That’s all I miss. That’s all.