So when the school calls at noon and asks why Arthur’s absent today, I know and I don’t know. It’s the Wednesday after the Oscars. I’d dropped them both in the traffic circle in front of school like any other day. I say as much to the attendance lady, and she is silent. I imagine this doesn’t happen much at our school, which is why they’re comfortable waiting until noon to call. I confess that I don’t know where he is, but that I’ll call her back.
I text him: Arthur? Text me back please. It’s a full minute before he texts back: I’m fine Mom. I just need to do something. Don’t be mad. Me: Where are you?
No reply.
I remember that I can track his phone. I curse my fumbling fingers as I try to remember how to log in. Finally, my phone finds him. He’s in Harlem, and I go cold wondering what an eleven-year-old boy could be doing wandering around so far from home. I take a deep breath and pray to see with clearer eyes. I look again and see that he’s on a train. It’s moved already through 125th Street Station and is headed to the last stop, Grand Central Terminal.
It will take me ninety minutes to get to the city and anything can happen between now and then. I call Penny, and she doesn’t answer. I call Leo.
“Hey.”
“Arthur’s missing,” and I start to cry. “I need help.”
Leo is clearheaded and decisive, where I am in a loud red fog. He tells me to drive to his apartment. He asks me for the log-in information so that he and Weezie can track Arthur’s phone and get to where he is. I’m to go into his apartment and wait.
These things make sense. I say “thank you” a lot and head into the city. This doesn’t feel like running away. What could he possibly need to do? Is he being bullied? Has he joined a gang and needs to follow through on some kind of a dare? Is this, at long last, something to do with porn?
I call Kate on the way and ask her to get Bernadette after school. I fill her in on what little I know and tell her to make something up to tell Bernadette. My adrenaline reserves are running thin and I’m out of ideas.
I picture Arthur sneaking off from the school playground and walking to the train station. I imagine him buying a ticket on the train because he wouldn’t have a credit card to use at the kiosk. He would have chosen a two-seater and sat by the window, mustering up all of his courage for whatever it is he needs to do. It occurs to me that he’s found Ben, that Ben’s in New York and he’s going to confront him. More than anything, I think about how little I’ve done to help him deal with his feelings, glossing over everything that’s happened in the past two years. Self-correcting problem, my ass.
My phone beeps. It’s Leo: Got him. See you at my apartment.
I cry the tears of a person who’s lost everything and has had it casually handed back to her. Relief comes like actual waves and I find that I’ve slowed to forty miles per hour and people are passing me. I call Kate and cry until I’m over the Triborough Bridge.
I mop myself up as best I can, but I’m not overly concerned with my puffy eyes and red nose, a nose that I’ve been wiping on the sleeve of my peasant top for the past hour. Carole King with the flu. I am going to grab Arthur and smell his hair. I’m going to look deep into his beautiful eyes. And then I’m going to kill him.
The elevator opens, and I walk through the apartment door without knocking. Arthur is on the couch next to Leo, they’re watching The Office. Leo gives me a small smile, and Arthur looks like he knows he’s in deep trouble.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” he says as I sit down next to him and wrap him in my arms.
I hold his face in my hands and feel tears coming again. “Arthur, we can get through anything. Whatever it is, we can handle it together. I have a feeling there’s a lot of pain we haven’t sorted through, and that’s my fault.”
I feel Leo’s eyes on me. “Where’d you find him?” I ask.
“The stinker was buying a donut in Grand Central, hiding in plain sight.”
I laugh and hug Arthur again. “Well, thank you,” to Leo. “My sister wasn’t picking up and I didn’t know who else to call.”
“You should always call me.” He turns off the TV and says to Arthur, “You ready to spill it? What’s going on?”
Arthur stares at his hands. I touch his chin to try to get him to look at me, but he won’t. I’m positive this is about porn. “Do you want to talk to me alone? Like without Leo here?” I ask.
“No,” he says. “I came here to tell Leo anyway. You guys are going to hate me.” Arthur seems terrified.