Found Missing

I want to scream at Gerard for saying such a thing. I want to tell him to stop lying, to stop spitting foul untruths, but I can't. Gerard's telling the truth, that or, for some unbelievable reason, Martha had decided to make the whole story up.

She'd written her confession in black and white; she had been unfaithful.

The dismay smothering Gerard's face is shattering my heart and I'd love nothing more than to make it all stop, at the same time I can't help the feeling of revelation thrive in my chest - this could be the missing link; this could be the answer to Martha's death.

I stare at Gerard, the throb of pity for him is quickly replaced with anger.

"How long exactly have you known about this?" I hiss, more than aware of my boss no less than five feet away from the cubicle door. "And how did you even find it?"
"Remember I told you I used to read her diary..." He presses his fingers against his mouth and sinks slowly down the wall. "I found it after she died, before Detective. Woodford found it. As soon as- I couldn't believe it at first, Elfie, but why the fuck would she write it in her own diary if it wasn't true?"

I can hear the guilt in his voice, it's mixing badly with the rapid pace of his breath.
I mellow, but only slightly.

"Why would you take it though, Gerard? More importantly, why wouldn't you give it to Detective. Woodford? Do you have any idea of how much trouble you could get in? I mean, there's evidence in here, even the name of this guy - Vince, whoever the fuck he is. He might know something. He might have even-"
"Don't, Elfie. Just don't." Gerard cuts me off. "I didn't want it to be true, it was killing me. I tore it out and I kept it. I thought if no one found out I could just pretend it never happened."

He's sitting on the floor now, desperate eyes burning into mine. I sigh, kneeling down to join him.

"Martha had been six foot under for a month before I realized I couldn't ignore it." He slams his head back against the wall. I wince at how painful the smash sounds, he doesn't seem to care.

"Everything was too late. I thought Detective. Woodford would find out another way, somehow, but if she's talking about closing the case..."
"We need to take this to her." I tell him, folding the page back in half. "We'll have to tell her we found it today. We'll say it was hidden, I dunno'. We'll sort something."

I can't believe I'm even thinking about misleading the police, even if it is only a white lie. It's not like I haven't done it before, but everything is just a tad more important when it involves the death of your best friend.

"Don't worry." I force him what I hope is a confident nod. "We'll sort it."
"We?
"I'm coming with you."
"Why would you want to do that?"

Twelve weeks ago I wouldn't have given Gerard the time of day. Now the thought of him pained feels oddly unbearable.

"Because I don't hate you, Gerard."

*

With new evidence in hand, the police are searching for a lad called Vince O'donnel. An over-thought ramble about finding Martha's missing diary entry tucked behind the bathroom cabinet is enough to keep Detective. Woodord off our backs, not that she seems too concerned over where it had appeared from anyway. She's more interested in Martha's affair and why Vince had kept himself so quiet, especially since Martha's writing admits they were in fact falling for each other.

I don't know how destructive it must feel to know that the love of your life had turned to someone else - the way Gerard hasn't stopped biting his nails explains a lot.

I don't know how we could both be so close to the girl, how we could think that we knew everything about her yet not know much at all. The truth hasn't sunk in yet, but I'm sure that when it does my stomach still won't be as sick as Gerard's.

I can only begin to imagine the confusion crossing through the minds of Martha's parents; they sit in a stunned silence for five hours until Detective. Woodford returns.

"We've found Vince's mother, but there's no sign of Mr. O'donnel himself. His mother has told us she hasn't seen Vince for weeks. We're not sure if this is true or if she's covering for him, either way he looks guilty of something." She tells us. "We are looking for him, and when we find him we will solve this."

Detective. Woodford sighs and runs a hand over her tired face. "We will find out what happened to Martha, I promise."

I watch Anne sob hopelessly against her husbands shoulder as he tries to keep a straight face.
As an often occurrence, I wish I could do something to help. Instead, I just feel out of place, only until I feel Gerard's hand close around my wrist. I look up at him and by the crease in his brow I can tell that he feels just as uncomfortable.

"Let's go."

*

I'd never thought of alcohol as an escape route. I'd never wanted to, especially after the downfall it caused my father.
Recently, I've started to understand the appeal.

"Thank you." Gerard murmurs. "Thank you for today; for sticking with me."
He passes me the bottle of vodka found in the boot of his car. As he does I'm reminded of roundabouts and missing jeans, but I take a drink nonetheless.
"I owe you." He says.
"You don't owe me anything."
"You lied for me, Elfie, and you stayed. I didn't think I had anyone who would stay."
"I just don't think you deserve any of this, Gerard. No one deserves this. It must hurt."

He merely glares down at the pavement far below us. We've ended up on the top level of a parking lot, I'm not sure why. It's not very tall, but tall enough to tower over every building in Belleville. If I squint my eyes the house lamps and car lights look like stars. I decide this makes a nice change to park swings and run-down shopping malls.

"I feel nothing."

I blink. "What?"
"I feel nothing." He repeats. "You're right, it must hurt, but it doesn't." Gerard glares harder at the pavement and I feel scared for how close he is to the parking lot edge.

"I should want to kill this Vince guy, right? He was fucking my girlfriend." Gerard swallows. "Don't get me wrong, if it turns out he did anything to hurt Martha then I'll..." His fists clench and his lip curls - I don't think I've ever seen someone look more livid. He turns to me and then his expression falls and suddenly I've never seen someone look more alone.

"I miss her so much, Elfie." He chokes.
"Me as well." My voice cracks. "You loved her, Gerard, and I know-"
"But that's just it. That's what's just so fucking funny." He laughs through quivering lips. "If I loved her then why doesn't it hurt?"
"I don't understand..."
"She was falling for someone else, Elfie. At first I thought my world was ending, but now I don't care. I don't feel anything."
I stare at Gerard. "You don't mean that."
He stares right back. "But I do, and I'm sorry." He gasps and his face crumples. "I'm such a shitty person."

I quickly slip my arms around his waist. Without hesitation he clings to my shoulders, heaving desperately into the knot of my hair. I don't know if he can hear me promise that he isn't a shitty person, I tell him anyway; over and over until I'm crying, too.

I haven't got time to think about how surreal this should feel; too much has happened today for anything to make sense. I haven't got time to work out who kissed who, all I know is our mouths are meshed together in a frenzied rush and I can't stop. Can't or won't, I don't know; his teeth against my pulse is too enticing for my brain to keep up the debate.