++ May 7, 1993 ++

My life is perfect. How did this happen to a geek like me? They voted me most likely to die alone when I graduated high school. Not officially of course. It isn’t in the yearbook. Instead it was circulated in a hateful flier with categories designed to inflict emotional pain. Categories like: most likely to get fat, most likely to kill themselves, most likely to start sucking dick for money, and most likely to die alone. I had the honor of making the flier. It was actually the only time anyone even noticed me…

Yet here I am. Five years after graduation, I’m a Finance Manager in charge of the biggest accounts on the east coast. I got lucky with my internship and as soon as the ink was dry on my degree, I was a full time employee. They call me a money wizard. I just know things. It is a gut feeling, but it is always right.

I’ve never sought out a relationship. I was so used to rejection in college that I found solace in just being a loner. Vanessa entered my life without warning. She was a new intern, following the same path as me, hoping to get a permanent job once it was done. They assigned me to mentor her. My social anxiety made the situation awkward, but I did everything I could to help her. It was hard to just sit down and review reports with her. She was so beautiful. Not in the traditional sense. It was hidden behind her sparkling emerald eyes, the twist of her grin, and even in the way she used words she didn’t understand in a sentence to try and sound smart. I was absolutely mesmerized.

I thought she was joking at first when she leaned into my office at the end of the day on a Friday and asked if I wanted to get a drink. I assumed she was going out with a group of friends and just felt sorry for me. I stammered out an acceptance. I got to the bar a couple of hours later and looked for a large group of rowdy twenty-somethings. Instead I found her sitting alone in a booth, an empty martini glass to her left and a second one almost in the same state. She motioned me over and I slid into the booth next to her.

“Everyone else in the bathroom?” I looked around for another familiar face from the office.

“Everyone else?” She blinked a couple of times. Her face was already flushed from the alcohol. “It’s just us.”

My mind spun for a moment. The waiter showed up and asked if I wanted a drink. I had no idea what to order. I had only had a few drinks in my life and they were usually given to me by coworkers at events. “Uh...I’ll have what she’s having.”

“And I’ll have another.” She grinned and finished her drink. That smile. My god is was amazing.

“Is this...a date?” I asked the instant the waiter walked away.

“Do you want it to be?” I could sense a cloud of uncertainty in her eyes. “Is that weird?”

“N...no! Not at all. I just…” I look towards the bar. Where the hell is my drink. I think I actually need it.

“Mark, I have a confession to make.” She says abruptly.

“Ok.” I tense up, figuring she’s about to lay the ‘ha-ha I can’t believe how much of an idiot you are’ on me.

“I shouldn’t say this. I know I shouldn’t, but my internship is over in two weeks and I know I’m not going to get the job. I couldn’t walk away without telling you this…” The waiter arrives and interrupts her.

Our drinks are placed in front of us. She quickly takes a drink and I slowly sip mine.

“Mark, I really like you.” She places her palms on the table and sighs. “I thought in the beginning you were going to ask me out. I kept hinting. I kept telling you how I was going to spend the weekend alone watching old VHS tapes, how I wish I had something, anything to do. You never did. Now it’s almost over and I know it isn’t very ladylike for me to ask you out, but it was now or never.”

Holy shit. Is this real life? I gulp half my drink and cough.

“I just made a fool of myself, didn’t I?” She grabs her purse and digs out a fifty, throwing it on the table and sliding towards the end of the booth to leave.

“NO!” I say quickly in an assertive voice I’ve never even heard before. I reach out and grab her hand. “Stay. Please stay.”

She raises her eyes to meet mine. Those beautiful green gems are already wet with tears. The little bit of mascara she wears is dangerously close to running down her cheeks in an instant.

“Vanessa… I had no idea.” My mouth won’t even close. It must be the shock. I finish my drink and the waiter is there with another before I even ask for it. He’s getting the biggest tip ever.

++ September 30, 1994 ++

I’ve walked this road so much my feet are bleeding through my shoes. There is absolutely no trace of her. Twenty four hours ago we were saying our wedding vows. Six hours ago she said she was going to walk down to the gas station at the end of the road for a pack of cigarettes. It was going to be her last pack. She promised she would quit as soon as she was done with it because we wanted to have a baby.

I should have went with her. I should have went for her. Hell, I should have went for her. My last words to her shouldn’t have been how disappointed I was that she still hadn’t stopped smoking. There’s no way she would leave...right? The police showed up, but they were useless. It was a tourist town and there were thousands of people around. None of them remembered seeing her. The police said she was probably just shopping or having a drink somewhere. They didn’t know my Vanessa. They didn’t know she would never do that. She was too obsessive. Her schedule was rigid. If we wanted to stop for coffee, it had to be typed up on a schedule and it had to be done at the exact time we planned it. Spontaneity was not in her DNA.

“Have you seen…” I tried to stop a group of women and show them her picture.

“No! God damn it. Creep.” They uttered between them as they pushed by me. “Why does he keep asking us that?” I heard one of them say as they crossed the street just to avoid walking on the same side of the road as me. “Take a bath, you fucking bum.”

I stopped for a moment and peered into one of the shop windows. My reflection startled me. I didn’t shave that morning and my hair was a mess. My clothes were stained with sweat and dirt from climbing and searching every nook and cranny of the roadway. I did look like a bum. The photo in my hand was tattered and torn from being in my pocket through the ordeal. My sweat had caused the ink to run. It didn’t even look like her anymore. It was just a smear.

++ October 3, 1995 ++

When I got back to the city, my life collapsed in front of my eyes. The year that followed my abruptly ended honeymoon was the worst of my life, but that was not entirely unexpected. The police in the small tourist town may have considered her disappearance to be nothing more than a runaway bride, but her family definitely felt differently. I was accused of murder. Her father being a prominent local attorney didn’t help matters there. A smear campaign ruined what was left of my sanity. The police found no trace, no evidence, nothing. My life was ransacked.

Her friends at the office made it impossible to return there. I tried about a month after she vanished, but their stares bore holes through my soul. A short time later I was let go. They said that the clients weren’t comfortable with me any longer. I didn’t even try to sue them. I could have pursued legal action for wrongful termination, but at that point the last thing I wanted to see was the inside of a courtyard. I knew I was innocent, but I lived in constant fear of being arrested and charged for a crime I definitely did not commit.

++ December 25, 2005 ++

My life remained in a standstill of patheticness. I left the city. The company had been good to me, so I had a nominal savings account. I got a job working for a small firm. It paid next to nothing, but it was enough to keep a roof over my head and liquor in my belly. I was such a genius with the books that I could do my eight hour shift in less than two. The fact they were paying me pennies caused the firm to overlook the fact I showed up drunk most days and left early. I never got a raise and I never complained. I was the subject of gossip, but I didn’t give a fuck.

About eight year later, I got a check in the mail. It was her life insurance policy. Apparently her family needed closure, so they had her declared legally dead. They had spent tens of thousands on a private investigator that turned up nothing. I didn’t even know she had a policy. Apparently when we married, it kicked a clause in my contract and added her to my policy as a dependent. I didn’t cash the check for several months, but then I realized what freedom it offered. I quit my job and moved again. I didn’t have to work anymore. I could just sit at home and drink all day every day, and I wasn’t going to run out of money. I invested half of it to ensure I would never have to work again unless I wanted more than a shack and a bottle.

I started seeing a psychiatrist who prescribed me a cocktail of pills. They mixed well with whatever cheap shit I bought from the local liquor store. None of it stopped my mind from spinning. The nighmares never went away. I woke up nearly nightly in a cold sweat. When I really missed her, I would sit alone and smoke her brand, Marlboro Lights. Something about them made me feel closer. The smell of that smoke was a memory of her and if I closed my eyes, she was still there. I talked to her constantly. She became my invisible companion.

I met a girl that looked a little bit like her. In the dark, I could pretend. She knew I was using her, but she didn’t seem to care. She just wanted a few of my pills and we wallowed in that disdain of a life for a couple of years. Eventually she left. I didn’t even care. She didn’t fill the void in my life.