Zero Zero

12: reattaching limbs of an amputated tree

the next morning we ate oatmeal. when I saw it in the pot I thought it'd taste like the stuff back at The Institution, but it didn't. especially when we decorated it with honey and blueberries. it was fucking delicious.

I didn't go on like I had the night before, in amazement that food could actually taste good. I just thanked ms. iero for the breakfast, and sat and ate with frank in the bright morning light. 

but frank could see that amusement in my eyes. he offered up a flash of a smile in response, but we both silently agreed on not getting me started on that tangent again. we had bigger things to do. things which I didn't really know yet, but knew it'd be to find some past of mine.

things which included frank searching for a phone book, digging through papers and books until his mother asked, "what the hell are you doing?" 

"where's the yellowpages?" he asked, sounding like he was all frustrated with himself.

"we haven't gotten them in a while." she said. she sounded more confused than frank was frustrated. "there might be some old ones in the office, but what is this about?"

"we're looking for gerard's family." he said. now he sounded all confused too.

she mouthed something that looked like an 'oh', looking like she understood, but it was coupled with this look of sullen nature. 

"gerard won't be listed." she said, "you'd need his parents' names; he was a kid when he disappeared." 

she had this look like she knew more than she let on, but before I could ask she disappeared once again.that didn't stop frank, thought. and I don't think he even noticed, or at least cared to notice the subtle tone. 

frank went straight to the office and started rifling through yellowpages. I hadn't remembered until that moment, but I recalled as soon as I saw the thick stacks of thin brittle sheets of paper, just what they were. 

but he had no luck in the few books there were remaining in that office. frank looked a bit forlorn before he hopped up on the office chair.

"gerard, right?" frank asked, his eyebrows all knitted and face all illuminated in blue light, "spelled like normal gerard spelling?"

"I guess." I said. I didn't know. I just hoped so.

there were a lot of gerards in the world. famous gerards, gerards who popped up in the search one after another, making it just about impossible to find a kid named gerard who may have disappeared off the fucking face of the earth some years ago. I never made it as a story, it seemed. which made sense, given the secrecy that all went into that place.

but eventually frank got the idea to search on a missing peoples site. we came across a missing childrens site. frank hoped I would be on there. I hoped that I would be on there. but I was more careful, more cautious about where I placed my hopes. 

I knew that not every missing child could be listed on that site. in some ways I doubted I'd even been reported as missing. they were fucking careful, fucking great at things like that. 

frank was all hopeful, cause I'd had that memory resurface back as were were driving away from the station, but I still wasn't hopeful enough. 

hopes didn't change the reality of the situation, though. so we started looking through a list.

nothing, then more nothing, than ten more pages of nothing.

until a thirteen year old gerard. frank got all happy when he clicked on that name: Carlton, Gerard. but I knew better than that. I'd gone missing earlier than that. I had to have.