A-Void

the party.
“Too bad … but, there’s always next year,” Ella said and then looked over at me.
“Yeah,” Kayla sighed. “Hey, is that a wishbone?” she asked me abruptly, pointing to the chicken bones on the corner of my plate.
“Yeah,” I laughed, “it is.”
“How perfect, on New Year’s Eve! What’s your wish?” she asked me.
“I haven’t made one yet.”
“I have one,” she said. “Grab the other end.”
I lifted the bone and she grabbed the other end. Looking at her fingertips, I imagined how her skin felt.
After I broke off the larger piece of the bone, she said, “Seems like tonight’s not my lucky night. I hope your wish comes true!”
Inside the tent, we studied two teenage girls entertaining a pack of young college men with their dancing under an emerald chandelier. The girls’ parents, one of whom was our professor, unsuccessfully attempted to shield them from the men’s eyes.
Across the lawn, I could see the restaurant emptying slowly. A few kitchen helpers frenziedly wiped down tabletops and overturned dining chairs, while the wait staff carried dish stacks to the open kitchen. I watched Kayla wave goodbye to a couple on the patio, walk over to the bar, and prop her chin on her elbow. She tossed the rag she had been gliding along the countertop with her other hand and tiredly pushed back her hair. It is this moment, somehow, that I still think about most.
When I entered the restaurant again, she smiled cautiously at me.
“You want to know what I wished for?”
“No.” I could sense that she was trying not to laugh. “Okay—what?” she asked with a mischievous smile.
“I wished that I’d get a chance to dance with you tonight.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Really?” she said again.
“Yeah, really.”
“Wow, I’m so flattered.”
“You said you hoped my wish would come true,” I reminded her. “We only have about ten minutes left.”
She unclipped her hair, and extended her hand toward me.
Ever since she left this world, I have wondered where she has gone.
SANTA BARBARA CONFINEMENT GATE
10:35 AM
The gate is locked. It has been two days and there is no sign of anybody. There are no ships or submarines, and still no planes, just the humid scent of seawater.
Cleveland cries beside me. “I know, boy, I know.” I scan the seashore, wondering if we should just stay put for a while. Maybe everyone will return, or at least someone will come for me?
I raise Cleveland’s chin so he faces me. “What should we do? Huh? What should we do?”
TIME 2
“Hey, baby, do you have it? Did it come?” I asked as I walked to the front door.
Chalk-faced, Jasmine passed me the sealed envelope. I glanced down at Isabella, who, pressing her bouncy cheeks against her mother’s skirt, stared at me through her curly brown hair. I glided my hand over the soft strands, hoping she didn’t sense the nervousness in my hands.
“Let’s go inside. I don’t want anyone to see us.” Jasmine grabbed my briefcase and we hurried inside and sat on the couch. She put her hands over mine.
“Whatever happens, Billy, we’ll be alright.”
“I know,” I lied.
She tangled herself against my chest, and I opened the letter.
“Get your bags!”
“What?” Jasmine cupped her mouth and her teary eyes tensed. “No!”
“Grab your bags!” I yelled again.
“I can’t believe we didn’t get the Expatriate Notices,” she said, frozen.
“Mommy! What’s wrong?”
“Jasmine! We have to go! Now! We have no more time!”
Jasmine pressed her palms against the sides of her head as I dragged Isabella to her room.
“We’re going on a trip, honey,” I explained as she tugged her doll under her arm.
Bags packed, we headed swiftly for the car. At the front door, Jasmine looked back briefly at Cleveland and then turned to Isabella. “Don’t take your green sticker off or we can’t go. That’s your pass!”
“Ready?” I asked.
“Yeah, let’s go,” Jasmine said. “Salvador is coming out!”
“Okay, stay calm. Don’t look frazzled. Just get in.”
She opened the door and sat beside me. “We need to go. I don’t want to look at him.” She turned to ensure that Isabella was settled in the backseat, pressed her hand over mine on the gearbox, gazed into my eyes, breathed deeply, and, with quivering lips, smiled.
TIME 1
EMPTY HOUSE, TOPANGA CANYON BOULEVARD, WOODLAND HILLS, CA
9:06 PM
I bunked up in the first house with an unlocked door. After two days, no one has come. I search the sky as far as I can see. If there were food drops, I would know others are left behind.
I imagine Earth from outer space. Are London, Beijing, Rio de Janeiro, Cairo, Delhi, Lima, Jakarta lit, ablaze, or dark? Could there be so few people alive that we never find one another? What if I am the only person left?
I notice precisely the morning, afternoon, and dusk, and realize that I had not known that a day had so many parts. The songs of sparrows and the chirps of crickets seem louder every day, and I experience the slightest changes in light and temperature as the days transform.
The conjugations beneath the paint on the walls, the singular fibers of the carpets, and the tiniest hairs on my forearms, all are new to me. I feel myself think.
Between my fingers, I rub a page of the paperback novel I found in the garage here and worry that I will tear the paper. I raise the spine around my face to smell the tree, the mill. Then, noticing a slight tremor in my hand, I trade the book for my Organelle v463.2. The signal is still down. As long as there is no Internet, I do not have a picture or video of Jasmine or Isabella.
Cleveland and I must head for the state line.
ENTERING BARSTOW, CA
2:31 AM
After packing the Honda-Toyota-Chrysler’s cargo space with boxers, socks, jeans, and shirts I found at the stranger’s house, Cleveland and I head south, fires burning in all directions. I recheck my Organelle v463.2’s Radio, but still there is no signal. Using its Jukebox, I shuffle through my 551,256 songs. A GREATCO (“Celebrate the joy that