I went back to the lake, waited and waited and nothing.
I was worried.
Creed would never leave me.
Never, never, ever.
Something was wrong.
I called him but he didn’t answer. I called him again and he didn’t answer. And again. And again.
When it got late and he didn’t show, I went back to his house. I broke in the window and lay in his bed, waiting. I hoped he’d come home but I also couldn’t go to my house.
I told Daddy I was leaving. I told him I wasn’t coming back. He was really angry then he got all calm and tried to talk to me. I told him I wasn’t going to change my mind and he let me go. He even said I could keep my car.
It was kind of strange how easily he let me go. I mean, it wasn’t pleasant but it wasn’t as hard as I imagined it would be.
So when he let me go, I went but I told him I wasn’t coming back and I couldn’t. I couldn’t go back. I had a life to begin with Creed and I had a life I hated that had to end.
But Creed didn’t show.
The next day I went back to the pier and waited again.
I didn’t know what to do.
No one knew about us and Creed wanted to keep it that way just in case Daddy sent someone out looking for us, so I couldn’t ask his friends. I told Daddy I was leaving but, as Creed told me to do, I didn’t tell him I was leaving with Creed.
Creed had worked out his notice the week before to get ready to leave but he would also be angry if I went by to the factory, so I couldn’t go there either.
So I got in my car and drove around, drove everywhere, went into the stores and diners and swung by gas stations to check and see if he was around, even if his truck wasn’t outside.
He wasn’t in the stores or diners.
He wasn’t anywhere.
Worried, scared, feeling truly alone for the first time since I was six, I did the only thing I could do.
When it got late, I went to the bar. I stood outside until someone showed and asked if they’d go in, find Winona Creed and send her out to talk to me. I found someone, they went in and she teetered out and proved what I knew. She paid absolutely no attention at all to her son and she cared about him even less.
When I asked her if she knew where he was, she threw out an unsteady hand which made her list to the side before she righted herself and she stated, “He lef’. Goin’ somewheres. Doan know wheres. Just know he sold the house an’ he gone.” Then she squinted her eyes to focus on me and she asked, “Whas’ a Bissenette doin’ askin’ after a Creed?”
I didn’t answer that. I asked, “He left?”
She nodded unsteadily. “He gone.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Sure I’m sure, gurl. He’s my boy, ain’t he?”
No, he was my boy.
And he wouldn’t leave without me.
Would he?
Would he take my virginity then take off without me?
No.