Changing my workplace and spending time in a different environment helped me a lot. There was a place where I needed to be and a growing business that required my attention.
Once I got out of my home, I spent time with people, and I no longer felt alone. My workdays became longer. Purposely, I always got home late. After work, I preferred to spend my time working out or in a bookstore, anything but going home.
I swing my gaze to the tablet while Harper starts inspecting the shelves.
My mind begins wandering away again.
He broke my heart when he pulled out of my life. I never thought it could hurt so much. The pain was so intense I felt sick for days and months.
He walked out of my life and never got in touch with me again.
Weeks later, well after I’d gotten settled in my new headquarters, I mustered the courage to go back to Jill’s and start inquiring about him.
It wasn’t something that I wanted to do. I fought myself with a vengeance, but in the end, I couldn’t stop the nagging thoughts clashing in my head, so I had to go out there and try to find out something about him.
Anything.
Scott no longer worked there, and the new people had no idea what I was asking about.
After that first night, I stopped by several times. Always on the lookout, keeping my eyes and ears open. Scanning the place. Looking for clues.
The hookers and hustlers were no longer lining the sidewalk, and there were no familiar faces. No one I could ask about him.
I gave up on going to Jill’s, eventually, but I couldn’t forget about him.
He left the very same evening we came back from that trip.
He never said we’d keep in touch, and damn sure he never did, severing all ties with me.
Come to think of it, that was the hardest part––pulling him out of my life abruptly, without recourse––but in the end, I had to make peace with it as well.
He vanished without a trace.
His phone number was no longer in service. I drove past his house a few times. Always at night, hoping to see the lights on, or a car parked in the front, signaling that someone was still living there.
A ‘For Sale’ sign sat on the front lawn before it disappeared a couple of weeks later. And then the lights started to come on, but I knew it had nothing to do with him.
Months later, on a hot summer evening, I drove all the way to the coast. It took me about an hour to find Sara’s old place. The house was sunk in darkness, although an SUV was parked in the driveway. It wasn’t Sara’s car.
The following afternoon, I made the trip back. I spent minutes in my car, in front of the house, debating whether to go ahead with my plan and inquire about her or not.
Eventually, I climbed out, crossed the street, and knocked on the door.
Two small children and a woman greeted me in the doorway. Polite and friendly, she listened to me and answered my questions. Unfortunately, she had no information regarding the people who had lived in that house before.
A couple of days later, I thought about contacting a guy I knew and trusted, a PI who had worked for me before. I called him several times, but I never let the call go through.
He could’ve helped me by providing the information that I needed, but my gut was telling me it was a bad idea, so I eventually dropped it.
Unfortunately, the online research brought up only a few bits of information, all leading to a dead-end.
His website was sold in a private auction weeks after he had left. His images and clips were stripped from the pages, the nature of the enterprise remaining the same but featuring different people. He sold his audience and cashed out decently for a few weeks' worth of work.
Not bad.
“What do you think I should wear tonight?”
Harper's voice jolts me back to reality.