When Jake woke it was dark. Not a night time dark, but a muted dark like all the curtains had been drawn tight over the windows to keep out the daylight. He murmured and rolled over, sinking further into the bed, not wanting to wake up yet – and then became aware of something rather wrong.
He was alone.
Jake sat up and looked around. The room was completely empty. It wasn’t unusual for him to wake up later than Avery and Jack and for them to be downstairs, but everything was silent. Absolutely silent. Alarmed, Jake swung his legs out of their bed and stood up.
He went out into the hall – still nothing. No sound of the tv, no sound of them talking downstairs, no sound of the shower, no sound of the puppy. Just nothing. They weren’t here.
When Jake went downstairs, they first thing he noticed were their coats gone. So they went out. He went into the kitchen but there was no note. It upset him that they would just leave without saying anything or leaving anything, but maybe they told him something while he was still in bed and thought he was awake and registered it. But not only was there no note in the kitchen, their school books were gone as well. Jack’s notepad too. Jake looked around. No random, silly notes on the fridge, and the cat bowl wasn’t even there.
He frowned, but he was starting to get more scared than confused. The sitting room was just as empty. No extra pillows, no left out popcorn bowl, no movies on the second sofa. No cat toys scattered about. The notes he had written out for the song he had written Avery and Jack weren’t even on the piano. Jake ran back upstairs.
There wasn’t any of Jack’s makeup in the bathroom, there was only one toothbrush and not three at the edge of the sink, only one set of towels neatly left on the rack. In his room, their room, only Jake’s stuff was left, something he hadn’t noticed before. Avery’s trunk wasn’t there by the wardrobe. Jack’s laptop wasn’t closed up on the couch. Jake threw open his closet doors; none of Avery’s white, nothing. Nothing. There were his own jeans and shirts and shoes, but nothing of theirs. Pictures of them weren’t on the wardrobe, sketches of Jack’s weren’t on the desk, it was like they had never existed. None of the past year had happened.
Jake was alone.
No, he thought no no no they’ve just gone out. They’ve gone out and will come back and there’s nothing wrong here, but he was wrong and knew it. More than scared now, Jake scrambled for his shoulder bag to grab his cell phone, so he could call and find them. Scrolling through his phone book – their numbers weren’t even there. Nothing. Nothing of theirs was there. They weren’t there. Jake was panicking.
It was like they were part of his imagination. All of it, all of the past year was just some fancy of his. No. No no no no no. This wasn’t real! How could he have dreamed up something so wonderful, so good, so happy? Jake choked. No. He didn’t want to wake up in a world without Avery. He couldn’t live in a world without Avery. Without seeing his face, without feeling his fingers between his own, without seeing the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs really hard, without hearing his I love yous for feeling him in his arms…
Jake dropped the phone and screamed.
He woke straight up, shaking, feeling as if he had just screamed out loud, heart beating hard enough it felt as if it’d break loose of his throat. He jumped out of bed, he had to. Through blurry eyes he saw them, together one lump in their bed, theirs things around the room, the cat on the sofa. Avery rolled over and said something that was a distinct, soft Jake, and it was then that he started to cry.