Page 43 of Love Sick

“You said she was missing?”

The worry is all over Kyle’s face. “Yes. And this isn’t like her at all. We’ve never gone this long without talking.”

“Have you tried her cell?”

“Yes, many times. It keeps going straight to voice mail. We even have an app on our phones which allows us to track one another. It was her idea,” he explains with half a smile. “Her last trackable movements were ten days ago at a supermarket parking lot. Then it’s like she just vanished.”

The mystery just continues to grow and I can’t help but think Alanna is responsible for all of it.

“I don’t mean to pry, Kyle, but where’s your father?”

It’s apparent Kyle isn’t close to his dad. “Last I checked, he was living a happy life with his new wife, who was once his secretary. He cheated on my mom,” he explains angrily. “I don’t have much to do with him.”

I mull over his words. “Would he know where Joy is?”

“I doubt it. But at this point, I’m willing to talk to anyone. The cops won’t help because there aren’t signs of any foul play. But this isn’t like her.”

Kyle places his head into his hands, his shoulders trembling as he begins to cry.

Without thought, I walk around the counter and hug him. “We’ll find her.”

I allow him all the time he needs to grieve because I understand firsthand how losing a loved one feels.

As he seeks solace in my arms, I think over everything he shared and something keeps niggling at the back of my mind—Joy isn’t innocent in any of this.

When I think about her, only bad memories linger. I can’t help but feel betrayal. Kyle said she did what she did to help me, but nothing about Parkfields has helped.

“Can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course.” I rub his back softly.

He sniffs back his tears and pulls away, appearing embarrassed. “Do you want a tour of the house? You raised me like your own in this house. So I’m happy to tell you the many memories I have. It might help you remember?”

“I think that might help.”

Kyle leads me from the kitchen and gives me a tour of my house, ensuring he tells me at least two memories he associates with each room or area. It’s not until we reach a closed door do I begin to remember…

“I won’t let you do this!”

But this isn’t Misha’s choice.

I stumble into his bedroom because there is no other place I wish to be than in here. My stomach churns and my heart begins to race. My body wants me to expel the drugs, but there is no way. As each moment blurs in time, the pain subsides as everything is moving in slow motion.

“Mom, please, no…forgive me.”

I collapse face-first onto Misha’s bed. His scent engulfs me and wraps me into a tight embrace. I inhale deeply and sigh contently.

The silence is welcomed as I close my eyes and transport myself to happier times—when Misha was alive. I start from the beginning, from when I first held him in my arms.

Moving pictures flicker in and out of focus, cataloging my life with Misha. This is where I want to be forever. I may not have had any control over Misha’s death, but I do over mine. And this is what I choose.

“I love you. Please live…live for me.”

As I feel the bed dip beside me and Misha’s arms wrapping around me, I let go of the sadness and embrace this fate.

Tears are heavy in my eyes as, with my final breath, I whisper, “I love you too.”

“You remember,” Kyle says, watching me with wide eyes as I return to the now.

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