Amity is Dead

Have You Seen This Girl?

"Idris, let's go home; it's too cold." Idris shook his head resolutely. There was absolutely no way Amity could have just skipped town without anyone seeing her. He'd knocked on every door on the block, and yet he returned empty-handed. This fruitless search for the young sixteen-year-old Amity Glendale had been transpiring for about two weeks now.

Denver sighed. He didn't want to be out in this damp November weather, especially in a neighborhood he didn't know. The tall and lanky, pale-skinned boy heaved a sigh once more as though to communicate his displeasure to Idris, who couldn't care less. He was stapling posters of his dear friend's face to several poles, trees, and other vertical surfaces. Every so often the boy would reinforce the posters already stapled, and this elicited groans of dread and disdain from Denver.

"Idris, dude. Let's just go, seriously. She'll turn up." Idris adjusted his glasses and nodded reluctantly in response.

At the dinner table, the only sounds heard were forks scraping against dinner plates, glasses lifting and being set down, sips and munches. Idris' mother smiled anxiously at Denver, who took that as a nudge, a beg to say something and breach the silence.

"Thanks for letting me stay the night again, Mrs. B," he began with a grin, "I'm pretty sure I live here at this point." Mrs. Basque chuckled gently, and Idris' younger sisters, Desdemona and Ophelia, simultaneously wrinkled their noses.

"I don't want Denver living here," quipped Ophelia.

"Neither do I!" chimed in her twin sister Desdemona. Denver laughed heartily before turning over to Idris, who wasn't even looking their way. He seemed to be pondering his mashed potatoes, as though he were contemplating eating for the first time that day or not. In order to motivate and influence his choice, Denver tapped Idris, who looked up, his grey eyes dark with hopelessness.

"You gonna eat those potatoes?" he inquired with a patient smile. Idris took a few bites and then pushed the plate to his best friend, who demolished its contents in seconds.

Idris hadn't spoken more than once since Amity went missing, and he'd seldom eaten very often as well. It was one thing to assume the worse and grieve for the girl, but a vow of silence struck Denver as a bit much. However, he wasn't bothered, as grief can be expressed in many forms. When Denver himself heard the terrible news, he laughed his ass off. And then he cried for a good few hours, laughing as he wept.

Once the twins went to bed and the lights went out in the home, Idris and Denver lay in his queen bed, Idris trying to sleep, Denver buzzing with alertness.

"Bro. Idris, my man...You ever think that like...Nobody can understand what you're going through, no matter how well you try to explain, describe, or articulate it?"

Idris was silent, as per usual.

"...But like think about it; somebody's gotta understand where you're coming from, I mean..." He closed his eyes.

"I'm just ramblin' to myself at this point, but I hope you know that you can talk to me if ya want."

Idris, who was now the world's best listener, did not respond.

"Goodnight, my guy. Goodnight Amity, wherever you may be."