The Mysterious Disappearance of Aidan S. (as told to his brother) Read online

  At the top of the stairs I pulled the string that turns on the light, and the moment that bulb went on, I saw him. Aidan. On the floor, still in his pajamas. Wincing at the light. Face down, like someone had pushed him.

  I said his name. He looked up at me as if my appearance was the unexpected one.

  “Lucas?” he asked.

  He pulled himself up. And instead of turning to face me, he looked at the tall dresser that had been hovering over his prone body, its two wooden doors spread wide like outstretched arms.

  “Where is it?” he asked. “Where did it go?”

  I looked over his shoulder, into the dresser. Normally it could fit dozens of hanging suits or dresses. But now…

  “It’s empty,” I told him.

  “No,” he said. “It can’t be.”

  “Aidan.”

  I said it like I had to remind him what his name was. I said it like his name would finish the job of bringing him back.

  He looked the same, but also different. I saw a rip on his pajama top’s right elbow that I was sure hadn’t been there before. The soles of his feet were dirty. There was a leaf in his hair, and his eyes still weren’t focusing on me, even though I was talking to him.

  I tried again.

  2

  “Where were you?” I asked.

  In response, he used a word I’d never heard before.

  He said, “Aveinieu.”

  3

  I thought I hadn’t heard him right. Or maybe he was too tired to speak clearly. I should have asked him to say it again, but instead I remembered all the people downstairs, all the people who were looking for him.

  “We have to tell them you’re back,” I said. He didn’t respond. He reached into the dresser for something that wasn’t there, pressing against the back of its empty chamber. I turned from him and yelled out, “MOM! DAD! UP HERE!” I ran down the attic stairs, got to the small doorway just as they reached the hallway. “It’s Aidan!” I told them. “He’s back!”

  They were at my heels up the stairs, then ran past me to hug Aidan, to cry, to hug him more, as if they needed to confirm that he was real, that this was real, that we were all awake. Dad pulled me into the hug and said, “You found him,” which I accepted then, but immediately thought was strange, because I hadn’t found him—he’d simply returned. But that didn’t matter. None of the questions mattered, not at that moment. More people came up the stairs and cheered and cried and hugged Aidan like he was an organ they needed in order to breathe. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t cry. He looked lost, which everyone said was the shock of it, the shock of whatever had happened. What matters is that he’s back—people said that right away and truly believed it. Someone got out their phone to let the police know. Someone else started taking pictures, saying, “You’re going to want to have this recorded forever.” Aidan began to shiver, and someone grabbed a blanket that was sitting on an old rocking chair. They bundled him up and the party moved downstairs.

  Nobody noticed me staying behind. I wanted to be in the attic a few more minutes before anyone else came back. They were so loud downstairs—it was like every silence of the past six days had burst, and the relief was noisy because we didn’t have to worry about missing someone else’s shout for help underneath.

  I tried to find something out of place, something that would give me a clue to how Aidan had gotten up here without any of us noticing. The attic didn’t have any windows or a chimney—the only way in or out was through the small door. So he must have come back into the house, past the locked doors, past all the people downstairs, and past my open bedroom door, then up here before…falling on the floor and alerting me to his presence.

  That was the only explanation. There was no other.

  There was no way he’d been in the attic this whole time.

  I turned to the dresser, wondering why Aidan had stared at it with such intensity. It had been in the attic for as long as I could remember. It had been full of old ironing boards and vacuum parts until a couple of years ago when Mom had gotten really into decluttering and had thrown all of the junk away. It had been empty ever since, and it had been empty when we’d checked it multiple times over the past six days. Just like it was empty now.

  I looked. I looked closely.

  There was nothing there. Absolutely nothing. Not even dust.

  I closed the doors when I was done. Dad called out my name, and I heard it above all the other voices. I knew I had to go back downstairs, join the celebration.

  But before I left the attic, something on the floor caught my eye.

  It was the leaf. It had fallen out of Aidan’s hair.

  4

  It was blue. Royal blue. The shape of a diamond.

  I had never seen anything like it.

  5

  Dad called my name again. I put the leaf in my pocket, crumpling it without meaning to.

  I headed downstairs.

  * * *

  —

  The police came, and with them came questions. Gentle questions. Natural questions. Impossible questions.

  When my parents asked Aidan where he’d been, he wouldn’t answer. I could see this scared them, but I could also see he didn’t have the energy left for an explanation. He looked mystified, as if he thought time wouldn’t have passed while he was gone.

  Everyone, even the police, made excuses. Aidan was tired. Aidan was exhausted. Aidan had been through a lot, although nobody knew exactly what. He needed to take a shower and get some sleep. There wasn’t anything that couldn’t wait until morning, not with him safe and sound.

  I could sense that Mom didn’t want to let him out of her sight. But Dad persuaded her everything was okay now.

  He took a shower. He went to bed. I wanted to be there, wanted to make sure he was okay, but I was told to let him have a moment, let him rest.

  Once Aidan wasn’t there to be asked anything, I got asked everything instead.

  * * *

  —

  How did you know he was there?

  I heard a sound in the attic.

  What kind of sound?

  Like something falling.

  Did you hear footsteps?

  No.

  Not Aidan walking around? Or maybe two people walking around?

  No.

  Lucas, you know you can’t get into any trouble with us, right? We promise, you won’t be in any trouble. So tell us…did you help Aidan get back into the house?

  No.

  You didn’t sneak him in at any point?

  No.

  You had no idea he was in the attic?

  Not until I saw him there.

  And what did he say to you when you found him?

  I think he was just…confused.

  What do you mean?

  He seemed surprised to be in the attic. He kept staring at the dresser up there.

  Did you ask him where he’s been?

  Yes.

  And what did he say?

  Aveinieu.

  6

  The way they looked at me must have been the same way I’d looked at him.

  The moment I said it, I regretted it. I had shared something that wasn’t mine to share.

  * * *

  —

  A-vay-nyew?

  I don’t know what it means. Like I said, he was very confused.

  Did you ask him what he meant?

  No. Because that’s when I realized nobody else knew he was back. So I yelled down here.

  Do you have any idea where he was?

  No.

  Do you have any idea how he got to the attic?

  No.

  * * *

  —

  Mom went to call our relatives. Dad led the police into the attic, and then they made him stay downs
tairs while they looked around. The people who’d been in the house went back to their own homes, telling Mom and Dad they’d call tomorrow, that they were so happy Aidan was safe.

  The police were also happy Aidan was safe, but they seemed confused as well. After they searched through the attic, they came down and told Mom and Dad they’d be back in the morning to talk to Aidan, to see what he had to say. They thought I was out of earshot, but I could hear them tell my parents they needed to know if Aidan had been kidnapped, just in case the kidnapper was holding other children. But they also said that in cases like that, a kid who escapes usually raises the alarm right away. They added that, in their opinion, although Aidan seemed tired, he did not seem traumatized. I wondered how they knew the difference. Mom and Dad didn’t ask.

  It was after eleven by the time Mom and Dad noticed me in the kitchen, keeping out of the way. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to sleep in my room. But when Mom said, “You need to go to bed,” she didn’t tell me to sleep anywhere else.

  * * *

  —

  I was very quiet when I stepped inside our room. But I also couldn’t help myself.

  “Are you awake?” I whispered.

  Aidan didn’t answer.

  Once my eyes adjusted, I could see him in his bed, turned to the wall. I couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or not.

  I had no idea what he’d been through, but I knew he had to have been through something.

  “You need to tell them where you were,” I said. “Especially if other kids are in trouble.”

  “Nobody else is in trouble,” he replied. “Let me go to sleep.”

  “Just promise me you won’t go off again. Not like that. Otherwise, I’m going to keep waking up to check.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice sad in our bedroom darkness. “I don’t think I could, even if I tried.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  But he only drew the covers higher.

  “That’s enough for now,” he said, and I knew that was the only goodnight I would get.

  * * *

  —

  I still woke up at least six different times that night.

  Every time I checked, he was still there.

  7

  Aidan got up first, but he didn’t leave the bedroom until I was awake too. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, feet on the floor, facing me earnestly as I stretched and kicked off my sheets.

  “I need to ask you some things,” he said once I was upright.

  “Okay.”

  “Quickly, because I think the police are already here.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  * * *

  —

  How long was I gone?

  Six days. Do you really not know?

  Are you sure it was six days?

  Are you kidding? Do you have any idea what’s been going on here? They were searching everywhere for you.

  Did they search the attic?

  Yes. They searched the whole house.

  And they looked inside that dresser?

  Yes. Why are you asking me that? You weren’t here the whole time, were you?

  No, I wasn’t.

  Where were you?

  Nobody’s going to believe me.

  I’ll believe you.

  I don’t think you can.

  * * *

  —

  I was about to ask him about Aveinieu, but at that moment there was a knock on our door, and Dad was asking if we were ready for breakfast.

  “You can come in,” Aidan said.

  Dad looked like he, too, hadn’t gotten much sleep; I had heard our door open and close during the night, and there were probably more check-ins I’d missed.

  “Officer Ross and Officer Pinkus are here to ask you a few questions. You’re not in any trouble. They—we—just want to know where you were, and to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine,” Aidan said.

  “That’s great. Truly. We just have to be sure. And, as I said, we need to know where you were.”

  “I can’t tell you,” Aidan said.

  This stopped our father short.

  “Now, that’s the kind of answer that concerns me, Aidan. You have to be able to tell us. I assure you, you won’t get into any trouble.”

  “It’s not that I’m afraid of getting into trouble. It’s just…you’re not going to believe me.”

  “I promise, whatever you say, I will one-hundred-percent believe you. I know your word is good, Aidan. It always has been.”

  Aidan shook his head, more at something he was saying to himself than at what Dad was saying. Or at least that’s how I saw it.

  “Come on,” Dad told him. “You’ll like Ross and Pinkus. Officer Ross knew your grandfather back in the day, and Officer Pinkus is a missing persons specialist.”

  “I guess I was a missing person,” Aidan said, getting up and heading to the door.

  Dad couldn’t help but pat him on the head as he walked out, saying, “Yes, Aidan. That you were.”

  * * *

  —

  Nobody invited me into the kitchen for the questioning, but they didn’t ask me to leave either. Maybe they thought it would be easier for Aidan to talk if I was there. I hoped that was true. I wanted him to know I was on his side, whatever side that was.

  Everyone but me sat at the kitchen table. I leaned against the counter, by the microwave. The detectives introduced themselves, and reassured Aidan that he wasn’t in any trouble; they just needed to understand where he’d been. They started to tell him that people had been concerned about his disappearance, but Mom stepped in and corrected them, saying, “Terrified. The word for what we were is terrified. We were so scared, Aidan.”

  “I’m sorry,” Aidan mumbled.

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” Dad said. Mom stayed quiet.

  “Look,” Officer Ross said, “this doesn’t have to be a long conversation. We have a few questions, and then we can pack up and leave. In truth, it all comes down to one central question, which is: Where were you the past six days, before Lucas found you in the attic? Can you tell us that, Aidan? You can start at the beginning or wherever else you’d like.”

  “Nobody kidnapped me,” Aidan said up front. “Nobody took me away. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  “That’s good,” Officer Pinkus said carefully. “Are you saying you ran away?”

  “I didn’t mean to,” Aidan replied.

  “You got lost?” Officer Pinkus asked.

  “Yes. That’s definitely true.”

  “But where were you?” Mom broke in. “Why couldn’t we find you?”

  Aidan looked to the police officers instead of Mom when he asked, “Is that important? Do I really have to tell you? Isn’t it enough for me to say I ran away and lost track of time where I was, but found my way back here?”

  Officer Pinkus answered, “We’re just trying to make sure you’re okay. If you had a rough time and don’t want to talk about it now, that’s fine. If you’d rather talk to a counselor about it, that’s fine too. But when a twelve-year-old disappears for almost a week, Aidan, we do need to know what happened, to help you make some sense of it. We’re not here to judge you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. At this point, we only want to help you. I know there are a lot of people out there who are aware of your disappearance, and you don’t owe any of them an explanation. This isn’t about them, or me, or even your parents. This is about you.”

  For a moment, it was like the old Aidan was back, and wasn’t in some kind of shock. I could see him get that satisfied smirk on his face, like he usually got when he found a loophole that would get him out of doing something he didn’t want to do. He wasn’t sarcastic with the officer—that would’ve
been dumb. But he definitely seemed a little proud of himself when he replied, “Well, if it’s about me, I’d rather not talk about it.”

  Officer Ross didn’t look too happy about this. “Son, we turned over this whole town looking for you. A lot of people lost a lot of sleep, and your family here was scared to death. It would certainly help us to know where you were, in no small part so you’ll be discouraged from running there again. Believe me when I say we do not want a repeat performance.”

  The spark of Aidan’s last answer died down, and he seemed to withdraw into a more serious version of himself again. “I can’t tell you,” he said.

  “Can’t or won’t?” Ross shot back.

  Aidan didn’t answer that. So Mom stepped into the silence and asked, “What—or who—is Aveinieu?”

  I was facing Aidan, so I saw the effect the word had on him. It was like all the power had surged in the room, illuminating us in a brightness that was momentarily horrific, then merely blinding.

  Mom went on. “Lucas told us that when he asked you yesterday where you’d been, you said Aveinieu.”

  Aidan looked to me then, confused. And I realized: He didn’t remember telling me. He didn’t remember it at all.

  I wasn’t the only one who noticed how astonished he seemed.

  “Tell us, son,” Officer Ross said, not unkindly. “Tell us what Aveinieu means.”

  And here Aidan said it again:

  “You’re not going to believe me.”

  8

  They asked him if it was somewhere nearby. They asked him if it was a nickname. They asked him if it was a person’s house. They asked him if it was a person’s name. They asked him why it was a secret. Dad looked it up on his phone, but couldn’t find anything. They asked Aidan again where it was, what it meant.