She Was 14

Trigger Warnings: Missing Children, Possible Suicide, Mental Health

The flyer says Tyler's shirt is green, that he went missing just two days ago in Heath's neighborhood. According to the address on the notice it appears to have been near the apartment complex that should have been labeled unsafe and inhabitable years ago. He knows there will always be those that are willing to pay the lesser rent as long as it is available. He looks at the number on the poster, debating, should he call? Does he want to get involved? Should he join a search party? Does he want to be one of those checking the places a child can hide in? Is he emotionally able to do so?

Suddenly he flashes back to his own childhood, and sees a different flyer with a different colored shirt, this one a girl and the shirt was black. Black and the name of her favorite band at the time. Her name Jenny, or was. A story from long ago that Heath has taken decades to heal from. The trauma taking a toll on his mental health beyond what he would have imagined.

Jenny had been his sister. She had loved all things art, had wanted to talk constantly about art. She carried around her sketchbook and a pen at all times. Ready to capture whatever caught her interest, not wanting to use a camera, but instead her own mind's eye of how it appeared to her. Heath was never able to understand his sister, but as a older brother, by a year, he felt it was his duty to at least show attentiveness in what she cared about. He would remember at least once a week to ask if she had a new piece she wanted to talk about. Ten times out of ten, she did. Her face would light up, her brown eyes becoming honey, her cheeks gaining color they didn't normally hold. She would spill out a hundred words per minute and Heath could hardly catch any of it. The art itself wasn't his goal, he wanted to see Jenny smile. Her mouth was usually facing downward, her eyes cast to the floor evading detection, her feet shuffling through the house, through the school hallways. On school break she rarely left her room. Any other questions directed towards her would either have no answer, maybe a shake or nod of the head, or rarely, a few mumbled words.

Heath looked again at the flyer and noticed that in small letters it stated that Tyler loved to talk to anyone about anything. Probably not the best thing for a child that is now missing, but Heath can't help to think that maybe if his sister had been able to open up to someone, the past would have been different. Yet here he stands, hands in his pockets, shifting from one foot to the other completely incapacitated as he looks at this strangers face. Tyler is half the age Jenny had been. He is seven, Jenny had been 14.

A large vehicle passes him by, bringing to remembrance again the police cars that began to show up after his parents finally made the decision to call. It had taken them two days of bickering, fighting with words he'd never heard them use towards each other, weeping and then silence between them when his dad made the call. Heath had known it would be his dad to call. His mom had been very hands off about Jenny's emotional states. Some days she would say that Jenny was just acting out, other days they would scream at each other until a door would slam and one of them would begin crying, most days that was his mother. Jenny was too withdrawn into her own world by then.

When Heath first started going to therapy eight years ago, he was thirty at the time, the therapist wanted to know what age Jenny first started showing signs of depression. Heath had gone home that night and sat on his couch and puzzled over the question for hours.

She dyed her hair herself when she was nine, had it started then? She tried baking him cupcakes when his baseball team won when she was ten and their mom had began screaming at her for making a mess, was it then? At the age of seven his family had gone to the zoo, and she had stared at the jaguar that paced back and forth, back and forth, showing signs of it's own anxiety being in captivity. Jenny had stood there for so long his family had started to wander away off to the excitement of the next exhibit. At thirty Heath remembered the look in her eye as she finally detached herself from the jaguar. It was a look of loss and acceptance and she was silent the car ride home. Had Jenny always been depressed, anxious, lost, miserable, even from the age of seven, or even before then? Had they all missed it? Could her future have been changed if his parents or even himself had been more attentive.

Once the questions start, it takes hours and sometimes days for Heath to stop the spiral. He considers calling his therapist, but gets stuck on another memory, this one after the police show up. There was a protocol for missing children even decades ago, he's sure things have changed now with social media but the smaller details would be the same.

“What was her full name, sir?” The officer asks his dad.

“Jennifer Lake Starling.”

“Her birthday?”

“January 16, 1991.

“Her hair color and eye color?”

“Purple.. no wait she changed it last week to green. And brown. Brown eyes.”

“Do you remember what she was wearing the last time you saw her.” The officer was already upset that two days had already passed, and his eyes squint at my dad in judgment. My dad looks to my mom who shakes her head and Heath lifts up his head to answer him.

“Her hair was red not green and she was wearing a black shirt and her favorite jeans with the holes in them. Her shoes were the black and white checkered sneakers she loves.” The police officer looks at him and nods his thanks and writes it down.

The never ending of protocol included going through her things, through her backpack she hadn't taken with her. When they found her sketchbook Heath knew what that meant. He knew his sister wasn't coming back. He asked if he could take a look at it before they would take it away for evidence they needed to file. He'd already overheard the police officers talking about her being a runaway.

When they handed it to him, he flipped to the last page. She had drawn a picture of the jaguar, but he wasn't in captivity. She had drawn him on the other side of the glass, and she was the one in the exhibit. He spotted himself in the drawing, among those staring at her and Heath had tears in his eyes, just as his own did now. She had made a caption below her last work.

“Finally free.”

He handed back the sketchbook to the officer as they started talking about search parties and questioning neighbors and friends at school the next day. Heath headed to his room. His heart was heavy. He knew what the drawing meant, what Jenny meant when she left her prize possession at home and the caption as it was. Seeing his sister again wasn't going to happen. It was at that moment he laid all the blame on himself, he felt he could have, should have, done something as her big brother to stop this.

Heath stands up straighter and looks at the picture of Tyler again, and hangs his head. He knows he can't do it, he doesn't have the strength to get involved. He is so scared for Tyler's parents and wants so much to help, but knows he has a limit to the healing his heart has had so far, and he has reached it.

The next day Heath is ordering a coffee at his favorite local cafe when he overhears two women talking about the neighborhood boy who had been found just around the corner from where he lives. Apparently he'd only been missing a few hours when a police officer found him attending to a cat who just had a litter of kittens.

Heath takes a deep breath in and holds it according to his therapist's recommended amount of time and then slowly exhales. He looks around him and grounds himself, taking in what he smells, coffee of course. What he sees, busyness behind the counter from the baristas, calm from the patrons either waiting for their drink or already situated at their chosen table, to partake in their day as well as their drink. He sees several smiles which grounds him more. He takes in what he hears the steam hissing, the clatter of metal and plastic objects as drinks are prepared, as well as the conversations of the customers, and those going about their work day taking orders and making the orders. Heath takes in what he feels. His iced coffee beginning to thaw a bit and cool his hand. The scratch of the material of his shirt on his arms. He takes another deep breath, and holds, and releases. He gets a glimpse of a woman picking up her order in the drive through window and his breath catches. Maybe it's the colored hair, red, maybe it's the smile that lights the woman's face as she accepts her drink. The same smile that would light up Jenny's face. He isn't sure, but for just a moment he can imagine and let himself believe that his sister is alive and doing well. That she is not hurting anymore and enjoying her art world, and in that moment Heath lets her go, and tells Jenny to be free. He knows this might just be for the moment, that tomorrow, or even later this evening the blame might return, the questions might resurface the pain might render him helpless again. But for the moment he lets Jenny live. He lets his sister find her peace, and his as well.