Searching Lucas

Sylvia once took me to the fair over at Myrtle Beach, which wasn't a moment I had grown fond of. It was the middle of the week—on a Thursday?—and Sylvia wanted to do something nice for me since she was impressed by my scorecard and realized she didn't reward me enough other than cooking my favorite meal. She knew I hated going anywhere with her unpredictable ways. Sylvia wasn't dimwitted to admit that even her "sturdy-like mindset"—whatever that means—could have a panic attack five minutes away from home. So when she suggested we go on that one-hour journey to the beach, I was rightfully afraid.

Sylvia took a risk, and oddly enough, it paid off.

She was in a good mood this entire time. Sylvia walked on the boardwalk with a tied straw hat and a lilac summer dress, watched the distant boats idling, rode the carousel, and even bought me a red balloon. I couldn't remember the last time I truthfully enjoyed having Sylvia around since usually it was the opposite.

Sylvia took a snapshot of me next to the ocean. I smiled.

That was the last photo she took of me. And now it was everywhere: on the news anchor underneath the headline. MISSING. The press had even broadcasted it onto radiowaves.

"Authorities continue in the search for the possible suspect, Jessica Jones—" It shows a photograph of Jess. Jess mutters, where did they get that? I've seen that photo back in her Dad's apartment, but I didn't tell her. "—a person of interest in the kidnapping of Lucas Jones. She is considered armed and dangerous. A few witnesses from The Greasy Spoon had seen her exiting Raleigh, North Carolina. If any information about the perpetrator or the missing individual arises, you can call anonymously on the number shown on the screen." The anchor repeats the number.

Jess had let go of her bike and dumped Pamela at a nearby lake, no doubt with a heavy heart. Nate continued in the RV until we reached the interstate, driving underneath the radar. We continued until we left Memphis and reached Arkansas. We ended up in White Rock, a formation of mountains with plenty of surrounding trees. Frondous trees flooded the valley, colliding underneath a crystalline sky.

It was as impressive as the tourist magazines described it. It was nice to stretch my legs after hours inside the RV, releasing the blood flow from my legs. Nate set the emergency brakes and turned off the engine, finally setting the place for the night.

***

I hadn't heard Jess coming. "You're going to fall sitting that close to the edge." Jess slept halfway through the trip, yet her eyes always looked tired, the opposite of someone who now slept most of the time. Jess was well-rested beneath those eye bags. Even with her jacket, jeans, and loose hair, Jess was not sweating. She sat next to me near the edge of the cliff. Jess watched the twilight sky and the bitter breeze fanning away some heat before looking at me. "How are you feeling?"

I glanced back at her, wishing to tell her to rest some more—that she shouldn't push her limits. Knowing Jess, listening to my concerns regarding her well-being was unlike her. I knew she wouldn't listen. Her stubbornness was another trait she aged to perfection.

I've studied the United States map on the dining table. Nate had marked the trajectory with black ink, etching a big circle in Boulder, Colorado, where the plan was to wait to lose our tracks before heading non-stop to Orange County.

"Are we there yet?" I had asked Nate.

"In a few more days," He'd said on a rest stop, pulling a pint from the freezer. "Do you want ice cream?"

We made eye contact as he held a pint of chocolate Ben & Jerry. "Is Jess going to be OK?" I had asked that seemingly forbidden question.

I didn't blame Nate for bluffing. I would have done the same as him: scoop out a ball of chocolate ice cream into a bowl, silently enough to avoid the uncomfortable truth. I'd stop persisting for the sake of keeping things lighthearted, for the sake of Jess. She did her part to protect me. And now it was my turn.

"I'm fine," I told Jess with that knot in my stomach, wanting to know what she had. "Are you OK?"

Half of me was waiting for her to come up with half a truth. Or lie. Or answer evasively.

Kids say dumb things all the time, not too much different from a pre-teen, except those who know the value of mindfulness. For kids, it's honesty. And I guess in a morality code, a self-made rule, I'd prefer to suffer with the truth than to live a lie.

Jess taught me that sometimes lying is necessary to protect those you love. Other times, it's best to tell the truth and wait for a reaction.

That's how you protect someone you love from the truth. That's how Jess protected me.

Jess took a sharp inhale. "I'm very sick, Lucas." She said. "And I need you to be strong for whatever happens. No need to be scared."

"But you're going to be alright. Right?" It's like I was in denial. I refused to believe that Jess would ever be sick. Growing up, she was absurdly wary about what she ate and avoided vices, minus those cigarettes she smoked post-tumor. As anyone with a young imagination, I wanted a happy ending where Jess, Nate, and I lived together, running away from authorities, laughing, and sharing memories, both the highs and the lows. I'd been living those feelings for the first time.

Jess smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, kiddo. Nate is going to get me medicine. So long I keep a healthy regimen, I will be fine."

And that's when Jess reached her milestone. She fooled me. She gave me the lie I discreetly hoped for.