Page 24 of Fragments of the Lost
I heard his mother’s voicemail pick up, no response from her. He said, “Electricity was shut off. In case you didn’t know.” And then he hung up the phone, and all I heard was his breathing, thick with something else—anger, I guessed.
And yet, I moved closer.
“Should you try the electric company?” I said.
He was silent for a moment, and I pushed open the curtains so that the moonlight shone through, a light spot on the rug, on him.
He sat on the edge of his bed, and he told me, with his head in his hands, “It won’t make a difference. They cut the power, because my mom and Sean didn’t pay the bill.”
I was trying to find a place for this information in my mind. Caleb, at our private school. Caleb, with his new lacrosse gear. Planning for a ski trip this winter. Everyone I knew may not have had money, but they weren’t lacking it in any substantial way—not in a way that would lead to something like this.
“But…,” I said. Anything I might say seemed both not enough and also too much. “You go to our school….”
He sighed. His arms reached for my waist, pulling me closer, so his forehead rested against my stomach. “My dad died when I was a kid,” he said. “There’s a trust in my name. I get a monthly stipend, in addition to using it for school tuition—but I don’t control it yet. I can’t just go get the money whenever I want.”
“Oh,” I said. So he had money, and his mom and stepdad didn’t.
“It’s not like I’m rich and they’re not,” he said. “It’s not going to last forever. But it will get me through college, maybe help with my first house….”
Then he pushed me back, abruptly, and stood on top of his bed, reaching up for the ceiling fan. The base was a metallic semicircle, and when he unscrewed the bottom, there seemed to be nothing there but the exposed wiring, tucked inside.
But he reached inside the metal compartment and pulled out an envelope.
He opened the top of the envelope, and I saw the thick stack of money. My eyes went wide. “You keep it there? What you get each month?”Banks are safer,I was thinking;there’s a reason for them, so our money is safe and insured.
He set his jaw, as if debating what to say. “You can’t be the only signature on a bank account until you’re eighteen. Some of the money already gets put toward the house bills, to keep me living in the lifestyle to which I am accustomed.” He said it in an official capacity, like he was repeating the words his mother or a lawyer had once used. “I’m trying to keep an eye on the rest.”
It took me a moment to understand what he was saying. That whoever else might sign the account with him could also take the money. I couldn’t imagine a parent doing that, and it made me angry on his behalf.
Though we were separated by the expanse of his bed, I thought we couldn’t get any closer than this. This sharing of secrets. The bond tightening between us. He counted off a stack of bills, replaced the money, and motioned for me to follow down the steps.
When we reached the kitchen, he left the money on the table and exhaled. “I have to get out of here.”
I pulled his hand, leading him back toward the front door, thinkingThen let’s go.He followed me out to his car.
Sitting in his car, he turned the ignition, rested his head back, and said, “I can’t wait until I’m eighteen. And then college.”
And I realized he meant more than leaving his room, his house, in that moment. And that I too would eventually be left behind.
—
I think, now, of the things kept just out of sight in this room. Max has uncovered the hidden space between the mattress and box spring. The only thing there is the sealed strip of condoms, now on display. This was the point at which Max had stopped. When he’d frozen, and remembered I was standing here, watching. When he realized that he was unearthing not just Caleb but me.
I throw them into my purse—the things a mother shouldn’t see—and right the bed again.
I stand on the mattress like Caleb had once done, and unscrew the bottom of his ceiling fan. It falls off quickly in my hands, before I’ve had a chance to turn it. It’s empty. And inside, the wires are pulled lower, torn apart, as if someone has already been through here, and did not like what theyfound.
There’s nothing here. Nothing left. I wonder if maybe Caleb found a new hiding spot. I can still hear the blood pulsing inside my skull. Trying to understand Max’s words. Money, taken. Money stolen. It makes no sense, because Caleb had access to money, if he needed it.
But still, the thought lingers: money that maybe Caleb had used for something else that day, something that has nothing to do with me. Somewhere else to shift the guilt. Another possibility.
And yet: It was money that Max needs. And he took this room apart, in his fury.
I’m still standing on the mattress in the middle of the mess when I hear Eve and Mia come in from the backyard.
“Try the lights up there,” Eve says.
Someone walks up the steps, and I panic.
