Hunger

Rory: What I Find

So far Seth has spent most of winter break holed up in his room listening to music or playing video games. Lacie dropped by today, and his eyes have gone from dull to... well, less dull. If I'm honest I haven't seen him happy since he came home, but this is the best he's been in a long time.

"Stay in the living room," I call over my shoulder.

I'm sitting on the couch messing around on my phone. From the corner of my eye I see Seth take Lacie's hand and start to lead her upstairs.

"Why?" Seth snaps, turning around and glaring at me.

"Blanca needs to be able to see you," I say.

"Oh come on, Rory! We're not-"

"Seth."

I give him the look, the mom look, the look that tells him I know all about those condoms. He cusses under his breath but stomps back into the living room without putting up much of a fight. It's yet another sign that he's starting to trust me again.

It's already late afternoon, and I have company class and rehearsals for our spring gala. The spring gala is something we do every year in honor of our biggest doners, and they basically get their own show and cocktail party afterwards. It's this rich person suck-up event to keep them donating to the company, and I hate it, but it's a necessary evil if we want to keep dancing.

I tell Blanca goodbye and Lacie is gone by the time I get back home. Something must have gone wrong with her visit because Seth is blaring his stereo, something he only does when he's pissed off. I can't ask Blanca about it because she's gone home for the evening. The music is audible even outside the house as I unlock the door. Once I'm inside metal music careens through the walls, tumbles down the stairs and shakes the house's foundation before the twisted wreckage of guitars and screaming finally makes a crash landing in my skull.

The noise feels solid all around me, like sludge. It disorients me, and several seconds pass before I can successfully wade through it and get up the stairs to Seth's room.

"Seth?" I shout as I knock on the door.

"GO AWAY!" he screams over the grinding cacophony.

I push the door open. Seth whirls around with his hands balled into fists and his eyes red with tears. Dammit. I knew that girl was trouble.

"You guys broke up?" I ask.

To my surprise Seth lowers the volume on the stereo and actually talks to me. "Yeah. Her parents won't let her be my girlfriend."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a bad influence," he says, making air quotations.

"That sucks. I'm sorry, Seth. You wanna talk about it?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "I just wanna be alone."

I get it, I really do, and he's being civil so I don't have a problem granting his request. I head up to my room hoping that Austin and Pixie are there. The hope is short-lived though. They're nowhere to be seen, but I do have an email from Austin. He's created himself an email account with Olaf_Thief as his username. I laugh when I see that.

"Hey be-you-ti-full. Don't no how to spell it lol. Pixie and me are at McDonald's eating crappy food. I miss u bad but I'll come by the store soon I think about u every fucking second. I love u so much."

My favorite part is that he's managed to attach a picture of himself and Pixie sitting in a booth. Pixie is grinning, holding up her Elsa and Olaf toys. I can't wipe the smile off my face for the rest of the night. Knowing that they're safe, fed and warm is everything to me.

In the days that follow his break up, Seth slips further and further into a depressive phase. His medication (now closely monitored by Dad) takes the edge off the worst of the symptoms, but he's lethargic and sleeps for hours during the day. Blanca has to force him to eat and shower. He's also moody and much more likely to snap at me, his eyes pink from smoking too much pot. The bad thing about bipolar disorder is that you never know how long the phases will last. He could be depressed for days, weeks or months.

It all comes to a head the weekend before school starts again. Freezing rain is falling, and we're holed up in the house to avoid the cold.

I'm worried about Austin and wish he would show up tonight. I haven't gotten another email from him since the first one almost a week ago, I haven't seen him at the store, and he hasn't come by the house. I know it's too cold for them to sleep comfortably in the van.

If I'm honest, I'm a little irritated too. The least he could do is write me and tell me he's safe! That's why I gave him that iPad! He knows I hate it when I don't know where he is. He knows it drives me crazy. He knows. The more I think about it the more pissed off I get, and I pace my room for thirty minutes before a thought finally stops me in my tracks: Austin does know how much I hate this, and that's why he wouldn't do this to me. Unless he physically couldn't write or see me.

My anger turns to anxiety, then to fear.

Fear quickly spirals into panic.

Something is wrong. Why didn't I realize it sooner? He's never gone so long without contacting me! Not since the early days when he didn't trust me. But now that we're together he never disappears for more than two days with no contact.

I need to do something, and since I can't call or text Austin the next best thing is to comb the streets looking for them. Stupid, yes, but I can't just sit here freaking out. I head to Seth's room to tell him where I'm going and that I'll be back before Dad gets home, but he's not in his room. I check the bathroom, the living room, the kitchen. Seth is nowhere. Why the hell is everyone disappearing on me?

I look through the whole house without finding a trace of Seth. The only place I haven't checked is the garage. There is no reason Seth would be in there, but where else could he be? Did he go to Lacie's? Maybe they got back together. I ponder the various possibilities as I open the door in the laundry room that leads to the garage.

What I find will haunt me forever. My Mustang is there, engine running, and Seth is slumped in the driver's seat.

The fumes in the air make me lightheaded and I cover my mouth as I lunge toward the driver's side door and yank it open. Seth falls out into my arms, limp as a broken bird. My heart races and my mouth goes dry as I shake him desperately.

"SETH!" I shout.

Nothing.

"SETH! Don't do this! No!"

I check the pulse in his neck. He's still alive. I reach my arm over him and turn off the car.

"Come on, wake up!" I say, slapping his face. "Don't you dare die on me!"

I don't bother calling an ambulance because the Mustang can get him to the hospital faster than they can. Even after slapping his face as hard as I can Seth doesn't show any signs of life, so I have to drag him out of the car and around to the passenger seat. My head is pounding from the fumes in the air and vomit rises in the back of my throat before I can hit the garage door opener on my rearview mirror. Seth has left a sticky note on the dash. All it says is I'm sorry.

"Yeah well I'm not," I say under my breath. "I'm not fucking sorry for saving your life. Don't you dare fucking die."

With that, I pull on my seatbelt, put the Mustang in reverse and slam my foot on the gas. The engine roars as I race into the night.