“JC, get out of bed.”
JC shook his head, burying his face deeper into his pillow, pulling his knees to
his chest.
“God DAMN it, JC, get out of bed!” Britney yelled, shaking JC furiously.
“Fuck off, Britney.”
She took a step back, mouth gaping. JC was never rude to her, he never swore at
her. And it stung. “What the hell is your problem, JC? Huh? What the fuck did
I do to deserve that?”
He sighed and rolled over to face her, tears pricking his faded blue eyes.
“Nothing, Britney. I’m sorry.”
She frowned and swept her hand across his forehead. “Are you ok, JC?”
He shook his head, allowing the tears to fall down his cheeks. “What’s wrong,
hun?”
“I miss him.”
Britney gathered JC in her arms and rocked him back and forth as his body shook
with sobs. “Shh, baby…I know…I know…”
“Why…why did he…I…I don’t understand…”
“He didn’t leave you, JC,” Britney said for the hundredth time during her
friendship with JC. “Someone took him away from you. You can’t blame
yourself.”
“I miss him…”
Britney thought back to the day JC came to her door, tears stained on his cheeks,
and collapsed in her entryway. The day Justin disappeared, JC ceased to be
himself anymore.
They’d tried everything to find him. Police, private investigators, offering
rewards…nothing worked. He had vanished without a trace.
JC still produced Britney’s album, still helped to promote her in any way he
could, but he wasn’t JC anymore. He was just a machine, a robot in JC’s skin.
He never smiled. He never laughed.
He didn’t live.
“Come on, JC…get up, honey…we’re going out.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere, Brit. Please, it’s been a year this week…I
don’t want to go out…I can’t go out…”
“JC…you have to live your life! Don’t you think that’s what Justin would
have wanted? For you to be happy? For you to love again?”
JC’s face contorted into an angry glare, his eyes turning icy. “NO! I will
never love anyone but him, Britney. Never. Now get out. And leave me alone.”
“JC, I didn’t mean—“
“Leave, Britney. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He rolled over and pulled the
blankets over his head, letting himself cry again once he heard the door shut
and knew Britney was gone.
“Please Justin…” he begged to the emptiness of his room. “Please come
back to me.”
“Hey,” came a small voice, and Lance nearly jumped out of his skin. He
looked up from the paper and smiled at the curly-haired boy in front of him.
“Good morning.”
“Um…I…can I use the bathroom?”
“Of course you can. It’s right down the hall, first door on the left.”
Lance thought he saw the boy’s face brighten just a bit. “Thank you,” he
said quietly, padding down the hall.
What happened to him? Lance wondered, taking a sip of his coffee and thumbing
through the newspaper.
He looked up as the boy entered the kitchen. “Are you hungry?” he asked.
The boy nodded, avoiding Lance’s eyes.
“I can make you something if you’d like. Eggs, pancakes…”
The boy shook his head, still looking at the floor. “I…can I just…have
some cereal?”
“Sure,” Lance said, reaching into the cupboard for a bowl. “I have…Apple
Jacks…Cheerios…Lucky Charms…take your pick.”
“Apple Jacks,” he said quickly, and in his eyes Lance saw a glimmer of…he
couldn’t quite pinpoint it
He filled the bowl and set it on the table. “There you go.”
“Thanks,” he said, slinking his body into the chair and spooning the cereal
into his mouth slowly.
Lance folded up the newspaper and sat quietly as the boy ate, trying to think of
a pleasant way to bring up the question he was dying to ask.
When the boy was finished, he pushed the bowl away and folded his hands in his
lap, not speaking.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Lance said softly, not wanting to frighten
him.
“I don’t know,” he whispered, and Lance could have sworn the boy was
trembling.
“Can I say something?”
The boy nodded, and Lance continued. “I don’t know what happened to you. But
whatever it was, it must have been horrible for you to have forgotten your name.
And I know you must be terrified. After all, I’m just some guy who offered you
a place to stay, and you have no idea if you can trust me, right?”
He nodded again, and Lance placed a gentle hand on his arm. This time the boy
didn’t move away. “I promise you I am not going to hurt you. I want to help
you, ok? I want to know what happened to you, and I want to help you remember
who you are. Can I help you do that?”
Another nod, and Lance saw the tears streaming down the boy’s cheeks. “My
name is Justin.”