Resist

I moved toward the bedroom. The covers were strewn across the bed, but it didn’t look as if Garrett had neglected the apartment. I’d seen the state of his room when he went on one of his tirades. It wasn’t like this. The hamper was empty. The bathroom was clean. I checked the trashcan—no needles.

I met my father in the living room. He was busy shuffling through Garrett’s art.

“Does he do this often? Draw like this?”

I nodded. “Always.”

He stacked the sketch paper and sat on the couch. “Did you see anything in his room?”

“It’s surprisingly neat. I don’t know what that means. If it means anything.” I pulled up a milk crate and took a seat. I was relieved I hadn’t found any drugs.

Quiet seconds passed. “Dad, why don’t we split up? I’ll get a car and I’ll drive around here. You can try New Bern or retrace where you’ve already been. I think it would be better.”

He stared at the trunk Garrett had turned into a coffee table. “It’s true I don’t know him like you do.”

“That’s not what—” I hadn’t planned on lecturing him about how much he didn’t know about his adult children. It was obvious. It was clear. We were all strangers.

He held up his hand and I pressed my lips together.

“He is my son, but I don’t know a damn thing about him.” He looked at me. His eyes clouded. “And what if it’s too late now?”

I shook my head. “No. We’re not even going to think that. Ever.” I glared at him. “Garrett is—he does this, Dad. He does this shit and it sucks. We worry. We get scared. But, it’s not the last time.” I never let myself go there. “It’s never the last time because he has an illness. And maybe when we find him this time you can start to accept that. You can figure out how to live with the fact that you have a son with bi-polar disorder.”

“I know about his diagnosis.”

“But you don’t like it. And Mom pretends it’s as trivial as if he were left-handed.”

“Of course I don’t like it.” He balled his fis

ts. “This isn’t what I thought his life would be like. Or yours or mine.”

“You didn’t like it so you left?”

“I’ve been here. I’ve always been here if your brother or mother needed me.”

I shook my head. I didn’t want to argue with him. I didn’t want to fall into that pit.

“I think it’s best if we do this on our own. Let’s make a list of places and split them up. You can drive me to a rental car place.”

“I’d rather not. I didn’t call you to do this on your own.” He rubbed his palms across his knees.

I threw my hands in the air. “Well, that’s how it goes. I didn’t come down here to make you feel better about what’s happened since your divorce. I didn’t fly here to help you get to know Garrett better or teach you how to be a better dad. I came here to find my brother. That’s it. I want to know Garrett is safe. He is my focus. Not you, Dad. Not this time. We should split up the search.”

“Then I guess we need to get you a car.” He stood and walked toward the door, closing it behind him. I heard his footsteps on the outside staircase.

My heart was in my stomach. I couldn’t believe I had said all of that. That I had thrown more pain in his face when he was searching for his son. Everything was locked and twisted together. One part couldn’t be fixed without rummaging through all the wreckage. And right now none of us had time or energy to start at the beginning. The first scrap had to wait until Garrett was found.

That night I slept in my old bedroom. I had gone to all the bars at the beach. The ones that were still open in the off-season. I had checked surfing spots. I stopped at artist studios, parks, and the movie theater. I asked strangers if they had seen Garrett, showing them a picture I had of him on my phone. I messaged his friends on Facebook. I called people we used to hang out with in high school. No one had heard from him. Not even Kelly.

And as sick as it felt, I was disappointed when she said she hadn’t talked to him. As bad as it would have been for him to be in touch with her, I would have chosen that over this. Over not knowing where in the hell he was. If he was safe. If he was alive.

I kept my agreement with my father. I checked in with him every hour until I pulled into the driveway. He said he was going to stay out and keep looking.

My mom didn’t bother to knock before walking into my room.

“Has anyone called?” she asked.

“No.” I had plugged my phone in next to the bed. I was down to ten percent of my battery.