As the Crane Flies

There’s been no word from him for three weeks. Phone calls have been exchanged, questions have been asked, and eyes have been peeled for a certain missing young man. Since he’s been gone, I’ve become much more aware of the bicyclists I drive past. Some stalking has been in order to get a good enough view of the cyclist sometimes to determine whether this one could be Jeffrey.

The other night I was working the drive thru headset at work, and I could see a bicyclist riding through our parking lot. It was about ten o’clock at night and there were no customers at the moment. From what I could tell this bicyclist had a similar build to that of my missing co-worker, and therefore it was crucial for me to see if this was him. This bicyclist had the audacity to ride straight through the drive thru, so I flung open the window and stuck my head out of it. Rigidly I stood with anticipation. 

An unfamiliar man on an unfamiliar bike whizzed by saying “hello” as he went. My heart dropped, and I cursed the bicyclist for having the nerve to do that to me. How could he? Didn’t he know my friend was missing? Didn’t he know that I had been worried sick for the past few weeks? The moment of false hope was almost enough to make me cry, but I didn’t, of course. 

           I know that the others are still thinking about him, too. There are two of his signature receipts-paper, origami cranes left up near the drive thru window to remind us that Jeffrey had been there not so long ago. When I come on shift, I always check to make sure that they’re still there, and periodically throughout my shift I will glance up at them and think about Jeffrey. I had always secretly hoped that he would show me how to make them or perhaps he would make one for me sometime.

It’s tempting to climb up on the counter and take one down to take home with me, but I would never do that so long as I’m working there and he’s missing. What if I’m not the only one who looks at those cranes to think of Jeffrey? I feel somewhat certain that I’m not the only one. Plus, Jeffrey put them up there to share with everyone. I would love it if they’re still up there if and when Jeffrey comes back. He would probably find it amusing that they haven’t been taken down. Under different circumstances I’m pretty sure our boss would have removed them by now, but the fact that they’re still there shows that the others like having little reminders of Jeffrey around, too. 

                      To be honest, I was only just getting to know Jeffrey when he left. In the week or two before he disappeared, we had been scheduled together more often than in the past, so we had more opportunity to talk. However, Jeffrey is a man of few words. Although, to certain co-workers, and at certain times, he came more out of his shell. I mostly was fascinated with what he did rather than what he said. One of the first things I ever found out about him was that he and his brother were welders. The subject of welding came up one night because his brother brought in something he had made to get Jeffrey’s opinion. I must admit that I don’t know any other welders, and this one fact alone began to set him apart. Another thing about Jeffrey is the origami, which I already mentioned. Beyond the origami there were other things that made him unique, like juggling the limes from the back walk-in fridge. One time he made a tower of hot sauce packets in the drive thru window and left it for everyone to see. Outside of work he rode his bike everywhere. I never clarified if that was because he couldn’t afford a car or just because he didn’t want one. He really rode that bike everywhere though. Once he came in and told one of our co-workers that he had taken a three-hour trip up to—that’s pretty damn far to go on a bike. Jeffrey just didn’t do things like everyone else, and that fascinated me.

           The last time I saw him before he disappeared was during a night shift at work. We were starting at the same time. I saw him on my way to work. He was across the intersection from me on his bright green BMX bike that he rode everywhere. I was waiting to make a right turn in my ’99 forest-green Corolla. By the time I had parked outside, he had already put his bike in the rack. I found it amazing that he had beat me there and I let him know that, not that he cared. Inside I said “hi” and he acknowledged me, but he didn’t seem to be in a good mood. I assumed maybe he was tired from his bike ride or maybe just didn’t want to be at work. He wasn’t smiling and his eyes appeared sort of dull with a faraway look in them. Throughout our shift I didn’t talk to him very much.

A couple hours later after the rush had died down, the boy helping Jeffrey at the window was sent on break, so I was to go back and forth from handing out the food at the window and taking orders at the front register. It was only then about three hours into my shift, that I noticed how swollen his jaw was. Jeffrey had had his wisdom teeth removed that day and apparently Vicodin wasn’t his “cup of tea.” The poor guy had come to work on absolutely no painkillers and was trying to stick it out. I thought this was all at once a stupid, crazy, yet admirable feat. All I know is that I would not be at work after having my teeth pulled out, and if I did not have any painkillers, I would be passed out from the pain! Jeffrey went home a little early that night, and I stayed to cover the rest of his shift. He looked grateful and said “thank you” two or three times before he left. That was the last time I saw him. 

           A week or so went by before people started to talk at work about how Jeffrey hadn’t been showing up. I overheard my boss ask one of my co-workers if he could take on some extra shift because “Jeffrey seems to have disappeared.” To confirm what I had heard I looked on the schedule to see Jeffrey’s name crossed out, and so I casually began asking some of my co-workers if they had heard from him. No one had heard from him. A couple days more went by, and then I went straight to my boss to ask him what had happened to Jeffrey. He said he didn’t know for sure. He explained that Jeffrey’s parents had filed him as missing and had hired a private investigator. Theories about where Jeffrey ranged from, he might have been hit on his bike and be dead on the side of the road somewhere to maybe he just packed up a backpack full of weed and went off into the wilderness with it. No one was sure, but everyone agreed that Jeffrey was the kind of person who could just pack up and leave without telling anyone. 

           Since he’s been missing, I’ve taken one or two bike rides myself, and Jeffrey’s sort of been my inspiration. I don’t have any plans to take a three-hour ride or anything. I mean, I can barely make it to the park a few blocks from my house, but it feels good to have the wind play against my face and have some strength in my legs. Sometimes I feel like I might understand why Jeffrey liked to ride his bike so much. Sometimes I even feel like I understand why he would want to run away. Where we’re from is a beautiful, safe, suburban area, but when it comes down to it—it can be pretty damn boring. I really hope he knows that he has family, friends, and co-workers back here that care for him and miss him, but we can’t hope to hold him back from living his life. I hope that Jeffrey is having the time of his life, wherever he is. I hope that this adventure that he’s on serves him well and teaches him much. I hope he experiences wonderful things, and maybe he’ll even experience God somewhere out there. I hope that someday he might come back though. Maybe he’ll have some wonderful stories to tell, maybe he’ll have something to teach us, and maybe he’ll even show me how to make a paper crane.