Final Departure

Chapter Eleven

        Eric squinted out the window of the train as it pulled out of South Station. He felt like an adult sometimes, but when it came right down to it, they--Nick, Jamie, and himself--were all only teenagers. Is a catastrophe like this too much for them to handle...emotionally? Psychologically? He wasn't sure.  He glanced over at Jamie and Nick to ask them their thoughts on the matter, but they were both trying to sleep, spread out in the dirty subway seats. Eric pulled a chunk of hair in front of his eyes and began to examine it. Was that one gray? He couldn't quite tell, but it sure looked it.  They had said in school that Maya Angelou's hair had turned gray from stress, so he knew it was at least possible.

        At the next stop, Jamie stirred a little and opened her eyes. Noticing Eric was still awake, she sat up and stretched.
        "We need to call the police again, as soon as we get home," Jamie said.   They had tried the police in Portland, but they had thought it was a prank call...told them to stop wasting their time and go back home. "This is really, really bad."
Eric nodded and looked out the window so Jamie couldn't see the film of tears covering his eyes.

        "I know." he said.
Jamie reached over and put her hand gingerly on Eric's forehead.

      "Did that guy shoot you?" She inquired, looking concerned.
      "He must have just missed me and hit the tree," Eric said, running his fingers along his hairline. "I think I might have a wood chip permanently lodged in my scalp." 

        "Eat tapioca." Jamie suggested, referring to the pudding, of course. This was an inside joke that they had shared for a long time, and on any other day, Eric would have laughed and replied, "But not without a spoon." But not today...today, Eric let the punchline drop. It really wasn't very funny, now that he thought about it. Eric just continued to look out the window. Jamie sighed a small sigh.

        "You're crying." She announced. "You don't have to hide it." 

Eric wiped his eyes hurriedly.  "Maybe not," he said.

Jamie suddenly gasped, her hand to her mouth in shock.

        “Eric," she said, stifling a giggle. "Do you realize your parents have no idea we just flew to Maine and back?” 
This finally succeeded in making Eric turn away from the window. He shot Jamie a horrified glance before bursting out laughing. "Oh no!"  
        "We're really going to hear it now!" Jamie cried.
      "Maybe they haven't woken up yet," Eric suggested, looking at his watch with a smile.  They both knew this was most likely impossible, but it was nice to see Eric smile again. Jamie smiled back. 

                                                        *        *        *

Eric, Nick, and Jamie tip-toed into the living room. The lights were off and the house was silent.

        "Mom?" Nick called up the stairs.  Nothing.  "Dad?"  Complete quiet. 

        "I'll call the police," Eric volunteered, heading to the kitchen.
        "I'm so tired," Jamie apologized. "I think I'm going to try to get some sleep."
       "Sure," Nick said, motioning to the couch.  "You sleep, we'll go upstairs and wake you if there are any new developments." Nick glanced at Eric who was using the telephone and didn't look like he was going to move. Nick added, "Well, I'll go upstairs, anyway."  And with that, he was gone.
        Jamie settled herself on the couch, throwing the familiar crocheted blanket over herself, and was suddenly reminded of her mom. Where was she? What happened? Was she scared? Eric hung up the phone and crossed the room, cutting into Jamie's thought.
        "The police took my information and added it to our file," Eric said, sitting on the couch across from her. "How much of a bummer is that, Jam'e? We have a fucking case file."  He buried his head in his hands.
        "Like in the movies," Jamie sighed, settling back into the couch. Eric started to head upstairs, but stopped and looked back at Jamie. 

        "Like the movies," he agreed, smiling.  But his smile had gone melancholy again.