“What did the postcard say?” This news about Rad was the last thing I expected to hear. Why would he be at a trailer park? Why did he leave his MacBook with Freddy? His whole life was on that thing.
“The postcard just said, ‘Having a great time, wish you were here.’”
I smiled inwardly. It sounded so like Rad—the wry, sarcastic humor I adored. I pictured him with pen poised over the postcard, writing that tired cliché with a smirk, and my heart gave an involuntary flutter.
“So no one has heard from him since?”
“Nope.”
“Well, how do you know he’s still there?”
“We don’t.”
“He didn’t leave a number?”
Lucy shook her head. “We still have the postcard, though. His address is on it. Maybe you can write to him there.”
Three
I pulled into Bell Rock Trailer Park and found a space under a large tree. I turned off the engine and sat there chewing thoughtfully on the tip of my thumb. When I told Lucy I was going to set out on this wild goose chase, she said, “Take Octopus One!” She offered to come with me, but I wanted to do it on my own.
I had no idea whether Rad was still here—there wasn’t a number listed for the trailer park, and they didn’t even have a website. I figured if he had left, someone there might know where he went.
After a few more minutes of staring into space, I snapped into action. Opening the car door, I stepped out into the warm summer day. I was hit with a dose of cool, salty air, and it felt good in my lungs. I caught a glimpse of the sea just beyond the group of trailers parked haphazardly across the rolling lawn. There was barely a week of summer left, and the weather was starting to turn. I walked up a bumpy asphalt path littered with dry white sand toward a small wood building. It was red and white, with the paint chipping away along the slats and window frames.
I pushed through the door and walked into the air-conditioned cool inside. Two wildly excited black and tan Chihuahuas greeted me—their little tails wagging furiously between sharp, intermittent yelps. “Gin! Tonic! Stop harassing the nice lady,” said a throaty voice. My eyes adjusted to the dim light, and I saw an old woman with wiry gray hair sitting behind a counter. She stood up, revealing a purple gypsy dress decorated with mystic symbols. “Hello, dear,” she purred, looking me over. “I’m Maud, the owner. Are you after a trailer?”
“Uh, no,” I said, a little bemused.
The room looked more like a fortune-teller’s den than the office of a trailer park. There were sumptuous velvet throws draped over a small round coffee table and a shapeless couch complete with matching cushions. Old movie posters in thin black frames were hung on the wood paneled walls. Displayed on a bench that stretched wall to wall behind the counter were gaudy trinkets and a pack of illustrated tarot cards next to a large crystal ball. She looked me over again, her expression pensive. “Then how can I help you?”
“I’m looking for someone. You may know him,” I said nervously. “His name is Rad.” I wasn’t sure what else to say, so I added, “He sent a postcard from here a few months ago.”
She regarded me carefully. “You’re looking for Rad,” she said, with a mysterious smile. “Then you must be Audrey.”
Maud led me down a narrow, winding path to a white trailer with muddy-orange trim parked in an area partly hidden by trees and shrubbery. A makeshift washing line was strung from the trailer to a nearby tree, and my heart skipped a beat when I recognized one of Rad’s T-shirts fluttering in the gentle breeze.
“This is him,” said Maud.
“Thank you.”
She pressed her gnarled hands into mine. “Good luck, dear.” She turned and ambled back down the path.
Taking a deep breath, I walked toward the door and knocked.
A moment later, the door swung open, and Rad stood there, framed by the doorway, wearing a pair of board shorts and clutching a towel in his hand. He looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite interpret. After a few tense seconds, he finally said, “Audrey.”
“Hi, Rad.” He looked different. There was something about his face and body that looked harder and more defined. A thin layer of stubble had grown on his usually clean-shaven face, and his fingernails were chewed and brittle.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, unsmiling.
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
He looked nonplussed. “Well, I was just about to go for a swim.” His tone wasn’t rude exactly, but it was dismissive. He pushed past me, heading toward the beach.
“Rad,” I walked after him. “What the hell? I came all the way here. Can you at least talk to me?”
He stopped and turned around. “Talk to you?” he gave me an incredulous look. “You disappeared, Audrey. You changed your fucking number. It’s a little bit too late for talking, isn’t it?”
I was taken aback. This person in front of me looked and sounded like Rad, but he seemed like a stranger. It was like knowing your favorite song by heart and then hearing a live karaoke performance sung with an odd staccato and off-key.
“I had to get away,” I said, hating the pleading tone in my voice. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
He shrugged and continued walking.
“Rad,” I called after him.
“Just leave me alone, Audrey,” he said quietly, his back still toward me. I ran up past him, jogging backward, and peered up into his face.
“Hey, I just want to talk—please.”
He stopped walking. “How the hell did you get here, anyway?”
“I drove.”
“Since when did you learn to drive?”
“When I was in Delta. Gabe taught me.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to take them back.
“Gabe?” he said, his eyes narrowing.
“Just someone I was kind of seeing.” I avoided his gaze.
“Well,” he said wryly, “that didn’t take long.”
He walked past me again, crossing the threshold from lawn to sand.
“Rad,” I said helplessly. “I don’t know what to say.”
My eyes were fixed on his back as he walked farther and farther away toward the shoreline.
“Just go back home, Audrey.” His voice was barely audible over the crashing waves. “There’s nothing for you here.”
“How did it go, dear?” asked Maud as she caught me walking back to my car. I wiped at the tears spilling from my eyes and shook my head. “Not good.” She reached out and took my hand. “Come with me, dear. Let me make you a cup of tea.”
I soon found myself sitting beside Maud on her couch. Our empty teacups and chipped saucers were perched near the edge of the coffee table. “I still remember the day he came through here. I took one look at him and thought to myself, ‘This kid looks down on his luck.’ He rented one of the trailers for a month or so, then when the general manager left, he took on the role.”
“Rad? But he’s a writer.”