Something Tangible to Remind Her
She tucked the postcard into a manila folder. He hadn't really wanted her to mail it in the first place, she reasoned. To him it was just a dumb survey; to her it was something to hold on to. She hesitated, and then pulled the file.The file was placed on the bed carefully. She climbed up next to it and tucked her legs beneath her. She gazed at the closed file for a moment. She didn't touch it; just stared at it resting her chin in her hand. The air around her grew heavy; it was a humid, sticky air that clung to her skin. She found it hard to breathe. She glanced over her shoulder before moving to open it. Reaching for the file she noticed that her hand was shaking, her hand hovered for a moment above the file as she watched it spasm beyond her control. She concentrated on steadying herself for a full minute before she closed her eyes and sighed in frustration, it was really no use. Her eyes flashed open and she grabbed at the folder. Hastily she opened it and spilled the contents over the sheets. She spread out the collection in sheer manic rapture. She spent the next several hours poring over all that this file contained. There were letters, and pictures, and notes, and movie tickets, tickets to plays, receipts from restaurants, dried wild flowers, name tags, and CDs. All of these were neatly labeled with dates and short descriptions. "From: Him/2-7-04/songs." "For my birthday." "Our 4th date." Perhaps the most interesting of all of this was the notebook. Through scribbles that were barely legible she read bits of her own synopsis; what she had learned of him.
Winter is his favorite season/He prefers the moon to the sun/He got glasses on 1-8-05; he doesn't like them/50 First Dates/Elton John/Secret Window/Hates pizza/The Island of Capri, Spain, Italy, Peru, Australia/Doesn't like spaghetti/Israel Kamamawiwo'ole/28 Days Later/It bothers him when I pick up toads/Hated my hometown/Amelie/Will not be persuaded/Laughs at me for being scared/It bothers him that I don't know Spanish/Romeo + Juliet/Doesn't like coffee but he will drink whatever the cashier recommends/Gets nervous when I lead down winding paths, barefoot/Schindler's List/Refuses to see me at night/ Last Samurai/Incredibly good at finding images online/Rugby is his favorite sport/Loves quotes/Not opposed to tattoos/X-box/Popcorn is bad/Valentine's Day is his favorite///He thinks he knows me
She swam through this information pooled on her bed. Some of it made her laugh. Some brought her to tears. All of it was valuable. She began to collect the scattered memories, scooping them up in her arms. She carefully re-folded and sorted till the file was again neat and orderly. This was the way that she liked it. This was the only way.
Gently she ran her fingers across the file's computer generated label that was simply his name: Javier. She returned the file to its place. She shook her head as she looked at them all. Amy, Adam, Amanda, Aaron, Jen, Joy, Li, Shandy, Tasha, Kimmy, Mark, Beky, Elaina, Paul, Scott, Faith, Dave, Beth, Laura, Kate, Brian, Nikki, Vanessa, Todd, Spring, Chris, Will, Jeremy, Maggie, Andrew, Samantha, Mitchell, Kim, Lisa, Lauren, Jordan. Each file was a friendship. Each file was full. Each file ends the same, "He thinks he knows me" or "She thinks she understands."
If this was where her collection ended I could describe it as being sentimental and a little odd. I could characterize her as a silly girl obsessed with structure, a bit forgetful and in need of reminders, a collector of tangible memories, well loved, and blessed with such a number of deep friendships. But her collection did not end here. Underneath each white computer label that bore each name was a three digit number. In order to find each number I had to carefully steam and push back the lower right hand corner of each label on each file. These were the codes that were needed to access the computer files that I found hidden on her hard drive. She had appropriately named them "the dark files." I had hoped that these files would help me to solve the mystery of her disappearance. I had hoped to find a clue. I had hoped to "get into her head" enough to at least make some educated guesses as to what might have become of her. To offer some comfort to her family and friends.
What I found made me hope that she was dead.
posted by Trisha @ 11:12 PM
