Six hours later Triston awoke under the weight of Bobby who in fact had spooned him. He liked the feeling but he needed to pee and he thought about Spencer in the living room alone. He got up carefully, letting Bobby fall to the bed’s surface he didn’t seem to wake. Triston scratched at himself, then walked to the living room where he noticed the sofa was empty. He looked to the kitchen, went to the bathroom but Spencer wasn’t there. He peed then checked the front door which was locked.
Sometimes Spencer could be a bit of a recluse, probably headed back to his own apartment, Triston thought. He went back to the bedroom just to make sure he didn’t miss Spencer in the bed but he wasn’t there. He thought about saying something to the guys but he didn’t want to wake them. He felt dehydrated and tired. He knew if he didn’t do something he’d be hungover when he got up. He went to the kitchen and got himself a bottle of water from the refrigerator. He drank most of it in one attempt. He felt better.
As he thought about waking the guys he decided to sleep on the sofa. He went to it, saw the phone and wallet on the coffee table along with a set of keys but he was too tired to care.
They were probably someone’s, he thought before pulling the same blanket Spencer had used around himself and falling asleep.
He didn’t sleep long before Darrell and Bobby woke up. They were both louder as they moved about causing Triston to wake up to the sounds they made. He rolled onto his side and covered his head. He heard their feet moving about and groaned.
“Hey Spence wake up,” Bobby said.
“Where’s Triston? Is he in the bathroom? I really have to use it.”
“I don’t know where he is,” Bobby said.
“I’m right here,” Triston said. He rolled onto his back and looked to the doorway where Bobby and Darrell stood in their underwear scratching at themselves and looking confused.
“Where’s Spencer?”
“I don’t know,” Triston said. “Maybe he went home.”
“His stuff is on the table. You haven’t seen him?”
“He wasn’t on the sofa,” Triston said. “I didn’t talk to him.”
“When was that?”
“I don’t know, not that long ago.”
“Maybe he’s locked out,” Darrell offered.
“Maybe, let’s get dressed and see,” Bobby said.
Triston pushed himself from the sofa. He looked to the items on the table. He felt some desperate need for his friend. Why hadn’t he noticed earlier? He was too tired and too drunk, he told himself. He went to the bedroom where he found his clothes from the day before and dressed. Bobby and Darrell were quicker and to the front door before he could fasten his belt.
He looked to them feeling guilty as he stepped into the living room. Bobby opened the door and looked out into the hallway and for a moment he felt relief as if the answer had been so obvious. Spencer would be there in the hallway asleep or bored out of his mind. He wasn’t.
Bobby and Darrell stepped out into the hallway and they were already forming a plan. Triston went to them, made sure he had his keys then locked the door to close it.
“Wait, maybe we should leave it unlocked in case he comes back,” Bobby said.
“Good idea,” Darrell said.
“Maybe one of us should wait here,” Bobby replied. They both looked to Triston.
“Hey, I”m not useless, besides I don’t want to wait. I have to do something. This isn’t some kind of practical joke is it?”
“He didn’t tell me about it,” Bobby answered.
“Me neither,” Darrell said.
They separated and each covered a different area: the basement, the roof, around the block, each coffee shop, news stand, and any open business. They used their cell phones to text each other about the progress.
Finally Bobby told them to regroup at the apartment. He was the first to get back and when he got to the door he opened it hoping it had all been a mistake. He wanted to find they had all missed him somehow even in the small apartment. He checked every corner, behind any piece of furniture he could find. It was the worst game of hide and go seek, he thought, that he had ever played.
Triston and Darrell entered about the same time and they both went into the kitchen where they got bottles of water.
“What do we do now?” Darrell asked.
“We call the cops,” Triston said.
“He wouldn’t be a missing person yet,” Darrell said.
“Maybe he was kidnapped,” Triston offered.
They both looked to him. He wasn’t sure if it was doubt or worry in their eyes.
“We have to call the cops,” Triston said.
“I hate calling the cops,” Darrell said. “I always feel like it’s them helping the homos.”
No comments:
Post a Comment