Finding Shiloh: a novel

Flicker

I drive around town until I'm done crying, and then I drive home.

My mother and Matt are in the kitchen when I walk in, making some sort of casserole that looks both vegan and inedible. They drop everything like it's on fire when they see me, but they don't say anything to me.

I take the stairs two at a time and close the door to my bedroom behind me.

On my mirror, stuck with a piece of tape, is a picture of Shiloh and me from prom, six weeks ago. We'd gone as each other's dates, because Colton wasn't able to go with Shiloh and I wouldn't have gone if she hadn't. Shiloh's dress was teal and black lace, and she had pulled her hair into a side ponytail and curled a few pieces. She'd finally agreed to let me put eyeshadow on her. We'd spent the entire afternoon getting ready at my house, watching YouTube videos about hair tutorials while listening to whatever underground music Shiloh was obsessing about that weekend. The food was okay, the music was stupid, and half our class was either drunk or crying in the bathroom. We'd left an hour early and gone to Steak n Shake, and then fallen asleep in my living room watching Sixteen Candles.

Shiloh looks so happy. We're hugging each other in front of my staircase and laughing at something my stepdad had said right before he took the picture. That was just six weeks ago. Six weeks, and she's gone.

I want to go back to that moment and see inside Shiloh's brain. Had she known then that this was going to happen? Was there any point in time where something could have changed her mind?

Seeing her so alive and happy, even frozen in time, is too much for me. I realize then that it probably always will be. I grab my phone and run down the stairs again, being careful to dodge my mother's gaze as I slip out the door.

I know the way to Shiloh's house like I'd know the way to my own. Six streets over, turn left at the stop sign, go up three more blocks and then turn right. Fourth house on the left, just past the subdivision entrance.

Her house is empty, and I know it. But for some reason, I want to go there.

It's getting dark by the time I reach the bottom of her driveway. Her mother had left the curtains open. I can see right into the living room.

The couches are still there. The TV is gone. A few rolled up pieces of clothing are strewn around the floor and laying across abandoned chairs. I can just barely see around the corner of the wall into the kitchen. The toaster is gone.

It's eerie. Like they could come back anytime. There's enough stuff left that they could.

But they won't.

This is what Shiloh used to do. Take enough stuff away so that you knew she was gone, but left enough that she had a reason to come back.
Except Shiloh always came back. But now she can't. And they can, but they won't.

And I never left and now I never will.

I look down. They left their doormat. Out of curiosity, I peel back the top left corner with the toe of my shoe.

There it is. Shiloh's spare house key. The one she kept there for all the times she locked herself out. Her parents never knew she had gotten another one made.

I slide it into the lock, turn it to the left, and hear the thick clicking noise as the door unlocks.

Her house smells like cotton and lavender, like the candles her mom used to burn. I could spend hours in her house, taking in every corner. But right now, I only have one mission.

I take the stairs two at a time.

Shiloh's room is the last one at the very back of the hallway. Her bedroom door is closed, a dark grey rectangle at the end of a pale grey hallway.