Page 6 of Missing White Woman

When we finally got to sleep, it felt just as amazing as the events prior. The mattress was big enough that I barely knew Ty was in the bed. I’d gone to sleep tracing the Kappa Alpha Psi tattoo on his chest. When I woke up the next morning, he wasn’t there. I lay there listening for him and not hearing a thing.

He didn’t answer when I called out his name. I might as well have been yelling into the abyss. Finally, I glanced at the clock moonlighting as art on one whole wall: 9:34 a.m.

Early for me—especially since I didn’t have to work. Sophomore year at Morgan State I’d taken a retail job at a stationery store a few miles from campus. Thirteen years later I was still there, having “moved up” to afternoon manager.

I needed to call Ty, but first I needed to find my phone. There were few things more constant in my life than never knowing where my cell was. A coworker said I needed an Apple Watch. Claimed it had a function that made your phone beep. I couldn’t afford one, though. My salary hadn’t improved much in thirteen years either.

I finally found it in the bathroom, hidden among the skin care I’d brought with me and already scattered all over the counter the night before. My mom had texted, but I ignored it to call Ty.

He was the first number in my favorites. During the first night I’d spent over at his place, he’d jokingly taken my phone and changed his name from “Ty Franklin (Run)” to “Darius Lovehall,” after the main character in the movie we had watched that night. I was listed in his as “Nina Mosley.” I hadn’t changed his name back.

His phone rang and rang. I hung up right before the voicemail kicked in.

Like my mom, Ty was an early riser. He just wasn’t as judgy about it. He’d let you sleep in. He was probably downstairs catching up on CNN while waiting patiently for me to get up.

I wondered if we’d have time for a run. I dug through my things until I found my running gear, resisting every urge to throw my clothes every which way like I did at home. My tote wasn’t the only new thing I’d gotten for the trip. My latest pair of Gel-Kayanos were black with hot-pink soles. I made sure my shorts and tank matched. It was as stylish as I got these days—though I could still recognize Chanel. Blame the internet.

Once I was dressed and laced up, I jogged down the three flights of stairs, expecting to find Ty in front of the television. Though it was on, he was nowhere to be found. The bedroom doors had all been open on the way down so I knew I hadn’t run past him. The bathroom door was open as well.

He had to be somewhere. I opted for the front door first, cracking it open just enough to peek outside. Three people were huddled on the sidewalk in front of the house. All of them white. I’d been quiet but not quiet enough. They all turned to look at me. I should’ve waved like I belonged here. Instead, I slammed the door shut and backed up so quick I almost hit the glass entry table. Smooth.

It took me a few seconds, but I shook it off, heading toward the kitchen area. There was a door back there too. I could make out the back of Ty’s low-cut fade through the glass. He was on the deck, talking on the phone.

He turned just as I opened the door. Smiled when he saw me as he spoke into the cell. “Call me so I know everything’s all set like discussed.” He hung the phone up, then addressed me. “Someone I’m working with has gone radio silent on this project due Monday.”

Work. Always work.

“If you need to work, I can go for a run on my own.”

He smiled as he started jumping up and down as if warming up. “Not a chance, Wright. In fact, I figured maybe you were pretending to sleep because you didn’t want none of this.”

He turned some jumping jacks into a full production. I smiled. “Or maybe you were afraid to wake me up because you knew what would happen.”

He stopped. I could see him huffing and puffing like he was going to blow the row house down. Too bad for him it was brick. “Maybe,” he said as his phone beeped. And that made him once again jump.

I watched him struggle to not look. “You can check it,” I said.

He shook his head. “Or I could go for a run with you. I’d follow you anywhere when you look like that in those shorts.”

My turn to smile. “We don’t have to run. We can just skip it and do breakfast.”

“No, you like to run first thing when you wake up.”

I’d done it damn near every day for the past eleven years. If I was being honest, it was the only way my life had improved since that night.

“Then let’s run,” I said.

He walked past me. “Let me go change,” he said. “Loser makes breakfast.”

I made a smile appear like it came out of a hat. “Perfect. I’ve been wanting your French toast.”

* * *

The street looked like one of those movie sets masquerading as an “urban street.” Ten row houses lined each side and had the same base ingredients. All tall and narrow with four floors, three windows on each. A large staircase leading up to a front door. But the owners had taken liberties with their exteriors with no thought of cohesiveness. There were enough colors along the street to make up a rainbow.

I thought the group had dispersed, but once I stepped out the front door I realized they’d just moved farther downfield. Two houses away, to be exact, so lost in their conversation they didn’t notice me when I came out the gate onto the sidewalk. At first I wanted to retreat, but I heard a voice just as I did.

“Don’t worry. They don’t bite.”