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LYNN
That night I waved back at Angie as I got of the bus, and watched it pull away toward the University proper. I turned to cross the street and walk down the path to my apartment.
I'm tired.. I just want to sleep.
I took in the view as I walked. It was a pretty evening, cool and almost no wind. After a few steps I could see that the darkening sky had outlined in shadow the mountain range which surrounded and protected our tiny college town.
It was seriously hard to keep my eyes turned down toward my destination, when I only wanted to watch the last of the purples, yellows, oranges and reds on the hills in front of me. It's breathtaking living up here.
Once I had crossed the street and walked down the few paved steps leading into the housing development, the mountains had disappeared from view. I blinked to adjust to the harsh parking lot lighting. The apartments were a series of eight red-brick three-story boxes which sat on top of a steep hill, facing down to the valley and nearby shopping center. Jim and I shared a front apartment at the basement level, which meant that from our windows, we could see a scrap of the sky but not much else. The parking lot blocked the rest of our view. As I approached, I checked the usual spot for Jim's car. It wasn't there, so he must be out again. I used my key and went inside, and dropped my bag by the front door.
I was not surprised to find the place a mess.
To the right was our tiny sitting area, complete with the stained coffee table that Jim had bought at a flea market, and the couch that came with the apartment. A few mounds of dirty clothes decorated the furniture, not all Jim's. A narrow high table under the window held his books. To the left I could see that the eat-in kitchen still had my breakfast dishes.
I sniffed. Yep. Oatmeal, but also old pizza and cup-o-soup. So he hadn't been home to take out today's garbage, or yesterday's either.
Euugghh. Should I clean up now, or later? I could do it now, or I could just go to my room and collapse on the bed. Collapsing sounded better. So I held my nose and marched directly into my room on the far side of the small apartment and fell directly on the bed. I kicked off my sneakers without looking where they landed, and was asleep in a few moments.
----
After what felt like only a few minutes later, I woke up. My windows were dark. I checked the clock, it was after 2am. I sprang out of bed and flipped on the light, and gave a quick glance to my room. It was a pre-furnished apartment, so the room was simple, just a bed, a dresser, a desk and an empty bookshelf. The only thing in the entire room that was personalized was my corkboard hanging over the desk, covered with photos and memories.
The rainbow thumbtacks were definitely a good choice. Each one was a highlight; photos of me and my friends messing around after school, an MTA train map with a few special stations circled, a label that was torn off of a cheap wine spritzer (from a VERY special night!) and a pile of concert ticket stubs tacked together. The top stub said, "Monsters of Rock, June 26, 1988, 1pm". A flyer reminding me about the midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show for next weekend in Keithson City was there too, dangling off of the bottom.
I walked to my desk, and re-read the note from yesterday. In Jim's scrawl it read, "Hi Lynn, I'll be back late. Don't wait up for me. - Jim". I put it down and sighed. When did I last see him?
After making a quick pass through the bathroom to pee and scrub my teeth, I went into the living room, to look for any other signs that Jim had been home since yesterday. It looked exactly as it did hours before, a smelly mess.
I sighed and started to pick up clothes to start a laundry pile. I'm up, may as well clean a little. Yanking on a pair of pants to take it off of the back of the couch, I noticed that Jim's door was actually open a crack.
He never leaves his door open. Is he home? I checked the front window again, and confirmed. His car still isn't here. I went to his door and pushed on the handle.
Nope, empty. The bed looks neat, too neat. As in completely un-slept-in. He wouldn't be mad if I just looked around, right? I'm worried about him. He'd understand. I stepped completely inside. I would just take a second.
His room was furnished just like mine, which made sense, since they rented it with the effects included, and the owners probably saved money by getting it for every apartment at once. Unlike my empty bookshelf, his was full of math books, except for the double deck tape recorder that sat on another shelf. A few more textbooks were actually open on the desk, like he had been studying last time he was here and was interrupted. On the wall above his desk was a corkboard too, except that his was neat and organized with a copy of his teaching schedule, and what looked like a computer printout of a doughnut.
The other walls reminded me of his room back home because they were covered with posters. They each looked like they had been taken down and put up again several times, because the corners were torn and there were many pieces of tape on top of other pieces. Wow, the Pink Floyd poster! I remember when he bought that, it was the first time he had taken me to Tower Records, I must have been about 8? And that's my favorite Iron Maiden poster, too! I wonder which others he brought from home? I did a 360 degree turn, and noticed that a poster was hiding behind the door.
I pulled on the doorknob and revealed a picture of a girl in a tennis uniform, without underwear on. Nope, THAT's not for me to see. I re-opened the door to cover the poster. He can keep his picture of a lady's butt to himself.
I crossed his room to the desk. Maybe he wrote down where he was going. I pushed aside the thought that he would have left me a note in my room, not his, since he knows I would not come into his room unless it was an emergency. This is an emergency, I thought. Maybe.
There was nothing on the desk but the textbook, so I opened the drawers one at a time. Again, nothing special was in the first two, just pencils and a fancy looking calculator, but the bottom drawer contained a photo album. Maybe I shouldn't pry into my brother's things? I've already done a lot of that, what's the big deal? Before I finished the thought, I had already grabbed the album and started to rifle through the contents.
The first few were all of different places around Stonyfield. It looked like Jim liked the mountains, too, there were lots of sunsets and cornfields. Then, about halfway through the book was a different kind of photo. It was a picture of a woman.
I don't know her, but for some reason, she looked a little familiar. She was standing in front of a carousel. It looked like the really big one in Keithson City, the next town over. The book-bag at her feet told me she was a student. She was wearing sunglasses, so it was hard to see her face. I turned to the next picture, and there she was again. This time the two of them were together. He looked different, somehow. Oh, his hair was down. They were at a club or a bar and she was laughing, holding her drink. The next photo was a closeup of just her. She's smiling, and her teeth are very white. That was the last picture, so I closed the album and returned it to the drawer, moving to examine the rest of the room.
So many pictures of one girl, I guess he likes her. Is he dating her? They've clearly been on a few dates, at least. But these pictures weren't in a frame or on the cork-board, just stuffed into a drawer. That's very odd, even for Jim.
I moved to the bookshelf and lifted a few books, then remembered about the picture again and in a flash realized where I had seen her before. I turned around, dropped to my knees on the floor and opened the drawer again, roughly tearing through it to find the photo.
Yes, it's her! Or, I know the bag, anyway and she fits into what I remember. It's the Richie! The rich girl with the golf outfits, from music class, I'd bet my Pell Grant on it!
I looked more closely at the pictures, and now saw more details. The woman's shirt had a designer logo, and the makeup was perfectly applied. Yep, it's definitely her.
Had I seen her after that first day? Not much, if at all. I'd better take this, and show Angie. The photo slid easily into my back pocket and I stood up. Maybe Angie would recognize her too, or maybe she knows her. A tiny twinge of guilt made me stop for a second, but I pushed it aside. No, it's important I know what's going on with him. He's my brother, and we're the only family we've got out here. Plus, clearly something is wrong and I need to know what it is. We have to protect each other. Just like he's protected me.
I spotted Jim's alarm clock and realized that it was now very late. He's definitely not coming home tonight. I finished cleaning and finally hit the sack sometime after 4.
----
The next day I didn't have any early classes so hung around waiting to see if Jim would show up. By the afternoon he still wasn't there, and I was feeling panicked. I called the Math department at the school, but since he didn't have anything scheduled except for some office hours, nobody knew where he was.
That's it, he's missing. He's lying in a back alley somewhere, dead. Or maybe just hurt. But what do I do now? Call the police? No, I think it might get Jim in trouble, he might lose his stipend. He's always talked about how much he doesn't like cops. I saw myself reach for the phone again, and I dialed Angie's dorm room number.
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