The next day, their car was gone when we left to spend Christmas with my grandmother. Zane’s house was empty when we came home. He was gone.
I searched the yard for a note. I even jumped the fence and searched his yard, but he didn’t leave an explanation why or where they went.
My mom said she heard that he’s dad had assaulted his stepmother, and she had left them. My stepdad speculated that he couldn’t afford the house payments without her income and my mom speculated that he left to avoid being arrested.
When I returned to school after the holiday, I looked for him, but they had moved far enough away that he did not go there anymore. Zane was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.
The teenage girls finish posing with him, and thank him, retrieve the phone from the woman, and thank her, then giggle as they walk away.
I stand there watching my first love. Wondering if I should speak to him or not.
He looks down at his K9 and jokes in that easygoing way I remember all too clearly. “We’re going to have to get used to women falling at our feet, Batman.”
The dog cuts his eyes up at him, and he laughs out loud. “I know, buddy. I’m not keen on it either, but it’s part of the job.”
The familiar sound draws me to him. How could I not speak?
