Finding Jane

“Gone as in he left? Or gone as in gone gone?” Sara stared at me, and for the longest time, her eyes did not shut, nor did they waver.

I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out. The way I felt right now was very similar to the way I felt after Alex first spoke to me. It was like my mouth was taped shut and my hands were tied to the back of me. I couldn’t take the tape off; I relied on someone else to take it off for me.

Finally, I found my voice and replied to Sara. “He--he left, Sara.” I felt a tear slip down my cheek. “And I don’t know when he’s coming back.”

“Oh, honey!” Sara cooed, walking the few feet between us and wrapping me in a hug. I let my tears fall freely, knowing that Sara wouldn’t judge me or make me feel bad for showing emotion in front of her. And when I felt the fabric of her shirt become wet, she didn’t say a word, for she knew that I needed to let this out. That’s what I love about her; she never ever makes you feel bad for being yourself. She understands me like no one else. Except my mo--.

And then the tears fell even faster and plopped more harshly onto Sara’s shirt. And once again, she didn’t say a word.

After a few minutes, I raised my head off of Sara’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, almost incomprehensibly. “I just--”

“Shhh…It’s okay. I understand,” Sara calmly whispered back, lightly squeezing my shoulders. I nodded, wiping a few loose tears with my hands. “How do you know? That he’s gone, I mean.” Sara lightly bit her lip, wondering if it was okay to ask that question.

“He wrote me a note,” I said. “It’s on the fridge.”

Note.

Then it hit me. Alex wrote me a note. It only consisted of two words, but it still meant the world to me. And my dad…he told me that ‘if the first words he says to you are comforting, then maybe he has an ulterior motive’. Up until now, I didn’t know what exactly he meant by that. But now--now I know.

Alex used to be outgoing, up until 7th grade. He had many friends that he would hang out with after school. They would play card games and the occasional game of basketball, if they were lucky enough to have an empty court down at the park.

But for one whole week in 7th grade, he was absent from all of his classes. When he came back the next week, he refused to talk to anyone. It stayed like that for months. He would come to school, sit through class, and not say a single word. Doing this made his friends alienate him, until he was left with nobody.

For five years, he’s slowly but surely started to come out of his shell. But he’s never told anyone about what happened during that week. He never felt the need to. He never wanted to.

And now he was ready. And for some reason, he chose me to be the one to tell.