This book is dedicated…

To Jordan, for helping me understand who I am and being the father I never had.

To Asher, for picking me up and dusting me off.

To Ali, Kiddmon, Landon, and Xoei. The best damn cheer squad a girl could ask for. Based. Truly.

And to J… if you’re reading this, you’re not going to like it.

Matt and Cass Need Some Space

By Jace Hyman

Content warnings: This book contains depictions of self harm, suicidal urges, and anxiety attacks. For plot purposes there are some homophobic slurs and religious trauma related material.

 

Also angst. There’s a lot of angst.

The first message, transmitted sometime after the winter of 2013

I found your weird little toy. It’s the same one you had the night you disappeared. I guess you had some weird messaging system set up. Well, maybe I can use it. Maybe, wherever you are, you’re reading this. Please… just tell me where you are. I want to explain myself. I want to make things right between us. Please.

Please.

 

Chapter 1

January 2020

I followed the rules.

That’s what they tell you. Go to school, get good grades, find a girlfriend, get yourself laid. Be in college, hang around, you’re unmistakable, the new kid in town. Oh they’ll love you, you’re so smart. You’ll have a house, a car, a whole backyard. Just follow the rules, it’s anyone’s game. You just need to shut up and play.

So why was it, as I stared at the paystub in my Email, it felt like the rules only ever amounted to ten bucks an hour and free movie tickets? I dropped my phone to the floor and fell back onto my bed, which was a long way down without a box spring or frame. Hurt like hell, but I was used to it.

The cold January wind did its best to take down the walls of my shitty studio apartment. I curled up on my mattress and wrapped the quilt and pillow over my head to try and warm myself up. My finger pricked at the bare cotton beneath me. Who needed sheets? It was just a waste of money. I grabbed my phone from the floor beside me and started my morning dredge through the social media feeds. It wasn’t exactly my favorite pastime, but it was all I could really do before I needed to go to work.

I immediately wished I hadn’t.

The algorithm was doing its job: using every possible post to remind me of how fucked everything was. I wanted to just throw my phone away, but if I threw my phone now I’d have to pick it up. And if I had to pick it up I’d have to get out of bed. And if I got out of bed then I’d be cold. And if I was cold I would be miserable. So I decided to stay warm and miserable instead.

There was one other thing the feed was doing that really pissed me off that morning. I should have seen it coming, really, if it wasn’t the feed then it would be the call. The same call I got every January.

The memory post did little to avoid the subject as an imposing Jpeg crawled its way up my feed. There was the photo I knew so well I could practically draw it blind. My old friend, Lucas Lynn, standing in front of a large stone soda statue. His short blond hair curled around an acne dotted face. He was wearing a green plaid shirt that I had given him the week before because I didn’t like it. Under that was a yellow shirt he had bought himself that had his favorite game on it.

Above the image, a post, asking if anyone knew where he was and telling them to call the police or his mom if they had any information to share.

It was dated seven years ago, January 12th 2013.

My phone buzzed. Time for work.

You would think working at a movie theater would be fun. If you looked at the ads they would agree with you. But that was a lie. If you really want to know what it’s like at Movie Country, the local chain I was an usher at, then let me be your guide. The first thing the ad says is that the job has flexible hours. Flexible for them, anyway. It was kind of funny, it seemed like every time I needed overtime there just wouldn’t be space on the schedule, but if they needed more hands on deck for a big movie weekend hours would just magically appear.

The second thing is what normally comes to everyone’s mind when they talk about working at a movie theater: free movies. This part is true, though you won’t be actually watching the movies. No no no, who has the time? Instead you’ll catch snippets here and there as you walk down the halls and sweep up after everyone else. If a movie came out that weekend you might get a complete picture of it by the end of the week, If you were lucky enough to have enough time to stand in the hall and watch.

Benefits? Come on, be serious. This is a “high school gig.” Why else would we be open during school hours and employ boomer’s who never seem to do any actual work?

The uniform was right though. All black, like a ninja at their day job.

The next thing you might say is that if I hated my job so much, why didn’t I just leave? Well I tried that. You wouldn’t know it from looking at me, but I actually got a degree in computer technology and game design. But getting a steady job in games isn’t exactly easy in Oklahoma. No one’s hiring, and if I wanted a job from home I’d have to get a computer setup that could handle everything. Which cost money. I could move out of state, find some place where a studio is actually hiring, but hey guess what, that also costs money.

Besides, I was getting by. Who cared if I could say I’ve mopped up piss and popcorn more times than should be normal for a human? I had an apartment. I could pay bills fine enough. Why bother destroying what you had? Even if it wasn’t what you wanted?

That’s what I kept thinking as I watched the credits for some sci-fi flick that was playing. The music was calm. An orchestra played out a melody that I was sure I had heard before but couldn’t place the name. And as I watched the names and jobs scroll by, I wondered what they did to get there. How hard was it to just throw away every little thing in your life in pursuit of some job that wasn’t a guarantee? Maybe they had their parents' money, maybe they were just luckier than I was.

Then, For a moment, I could hear him. Lucas was talking again. The same words he said just before he jumped into that abyss. His voice filtered through the strings. It was one of the last things he ever told me.

“I’m not crazy.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket and snapped me out of my daze. I didn’t have to look to know who it was. I informed my manager over the radio that I needed to take a call and made my way to the break room.

I dialed the number back, and the voice on the other end sounded like it hadn’t changed for seven years.

“Matt?”

“Hey, Mrs. Lynn.” I sighed, “You uh, you doin’ alright?”

“I’m fine. I-I’ve just been sitting here drinking my morning coffee.”

She sounded like she had been crying. “It’s almost noon.” I said.

“Still counts as morning.”

I had to chuckle at that, seeing as how I was literally in bed just an hour before.

“I was just thinking,” She said before taking a sip of her drink, “about that time you came to his birthday party. It was really nice of you, you know, he wasn’t very popular with the other kids. So-”

“I liked roller skating.” I said, “I couldn’t pass up a free skate.”

“Well it- it meant a lot to him you know.”

“Yeah. Yeah I know.”

Katherine Lynn was as brave as they come when Lucas disappeared. She faced the media head on and was the lead in many of the search attempts. I was beside her the whole way. We traveled to the surrounding states together. We would often stop at every possible city or town we could find and hand out flyers, speak anywhere that would have us, talk to police, anything and everything we could to find Lucas. Even if she didn’t look a thing like Katherine, I thought Elizabeth Olsen did a solid job playing her in the movie.

“They’re playing it on TV right now.” She said, “just giving it one showing… but maybe it’ll inspire others not to give up, you know?” I could hear another tear edging at her eyes.

“I never liked that movie to be honest.”

“They really nailed you, though.”

“Lucas was the blonde one, my hair is black. And not nearly as long.”

“Oh you heard about that, right? After the actor met you he said-”

“I don’t want to remember that.” I said, “Look, I need to go. There’s another big movie letting out and they need all hands on deck.”

“On a Sunday in January?”

“You’d be surprised what people do after church.”

“Wait Matt. Please… let me ask you again.”

I was hoping she had forgotten this year. “I don’t know anything. He didn’t tell me where he was going, didn’t even tell me he was going at all.”

“Please Matt, anything. You had to remember something. Please.”

My skin started to get clammy. The arm that was holding the phone was shaking now, I needed to calm down or it was going to happen again. “Mrs. Lynn-”

“I know it’s unlikely but you were his best friend you could-”

“I need to go. Goodbye.” I hung up without waiting for an answer and sat on one of the hard break room chairs. I held my hand still and took deep breaths. Of course it was happening again, really I should have scheduled it. Anxiety, I had learned, was a real mental illness. I realized I had been suffering from it for years, but couldn’t afford therapy so these little coping mechanisms I found online would do. I tried that grounding thing the website had mentioned. I thought about the number three.

I spoke out loud, “Three. Okay. Three things I can see. My hand. Uh… the break table. And my phone on the floor.”

I took another breath and tried to focus on that spot on the floor. My brain was telling me the phone would buzz again and I’d have to crush it to get it to stop, but that wasn’t happening. I knew it because-

“Two. Two things I can hear. The uh, the A/C in the ceiling. My own voice.”

My hand slowed and my breath was returning to normal. I picked up my phone and put it in my pocket without looking at it. Then stood up and did my best to get myself centered. I took one more deep breath, and in it I took all the memories that were pushing at me once again. I could see him, lying there on the ground and looking at the stars.

“One thing I can touch.” I said, and laid a hand on the table in front of me. “This table. Here. In this room.”

The room never stopped moving, but it did slow down. I had been having these attacks so long I knew that was the best I could ask for. I was able to catch my breath. In. Out. In. Out. The coping mechanisms helped, sure, but I knew they could never cure me. Who had time for cures anyway? The next show was letting out.

Katherine was right. Sundays in January weren’t busy. Surprise. But that was okay, because it gave me plenty of time to stand in the wings and catch up with the movies. I had seen the first half hour of a cool looking horror flick that morning. It was a pretty blatant rip off of ghost movies from the seventies, but I kinda dug it. There was something in my brain that liked it when I saw one of the characters get impaled by a cross in a cathedral. Was that a little fucked up of me? Sure, but I didn’t make the thing. Just watched it. The same opening thirty minutes for five hours straight.

Near the end of my shift I was watching the last ten minutes. It wasn’t much. The investigators were able to stop the demon by shouting out its name and holding a cross up to it. I thought that was silly, but seeing the effects on the large screen was a nice treat. As the credits began to roll the few people who were there got up and began to filter past me. I began my sweep.

“That was kinda dumb.”

A voice from behind me. One of the customers was chomping on the last bit of his popcorn. I had to do a double take, because for a split second I could have sworn it was Lucas. But no. Lucas had freckles, cute little dots on his cheeks.

Cute little dots? Come on man.

Freckles. Just freckles. This guy didn’t, and he was broader in the shoulders. After staring a second too long I finally replied, “yeah, not really a great movie.”

“I was just wondering, if the demon used a giant cross to impale somebody earlier, why was it so afraid of such a tiny one?”

“I was thinking that same thing.” I said, “maybe it was just because the good guy was carrying it.”

“Heh yeah maybe. Like it realized ‘oh shit the main character has it time to die!’”

That made me snort, at least. “Well, anyway, hope you have a nice-”

“Do you like working here?”

“Uh… sure?”

“Because I uh, I’ve seen you around a few times. And you don’t really seem to like your job.”

“I mean, do you like yours?”

He stepped closer, “oh yeah totally, bodega’s are the most exhilarating industry in the world. We’re on track to earn six million dollars this quarter alone!” I could tell he was joking, but it was weird how he was joking. “But hey you get free movies right?”

“I’ve seen the first half of this movie and the last ten minutes. Don’t have time to catch the middle.”

“Oh. That’s a shame. Someone like you should be taken to the movies more often.”

Someone like me? What did he mean by that? I almost asked, but the movie credits suddenly made a loud shrieking noise as the demon lunged at the camera out of nowhere. It didn’t faze me, I knew it was coming, but the guy jumped and spilled all of his popcorn on the floor. I huffed, “Great.”

“Shit! Sorry I-” He scrambled to start picking it up as the house lights came up. I pushed him aside and swept it up with my porter. 

“Don’t you have friends to get to or something?” I said.

“I came alone.” He said, and scratched the back of his head. “But uh… maybe you could join me next time? Watch a whole movie for a change?”

My broom fell out of my hand. This guy was hitting on me, no he was asking me out. Talk about bold, no, talk about insane! Did he know what people could do to him if they knew? Did he not get that it wasn’t supposed to work like this? We don’t get cute meetups in a movie theater, we get killed. No, no, We don’t get killed, they get killed. And I wasn’t about to be one of those numbers.

He was getting my broom from the floor. I snatched it away.

“Get out.” I said, and my face felt red.

“Oh. Sorry, maybe I read you the wrong way. You’re just cute, so I thought-”

“Get out!” I never stopped looking at the ground. My body was tensing up. I tried to breathe, focus on some random number again, but the only thing I wanted to feel at that moment was pain. He seemed to get the message and left without another word. I stood there for a moment just to get some distance between us.

“Matt.” My manager buzzed through the radio in my ear, “we need an usher at the concession.”

I collected my broom and porter and stared at the floor the whole way up. As I finished out my shift I couldn’t stop thinking about it. A nice dinner, a fun movie. Hugging, kissing, and the quiet moment in bed with another living breathing human. The night we might have had if I had said yes.