They learned to ride bikes together. They broke their arms together, falling out of the same tree in my backyard the summer they were eight. Nathan’s left, Cole’s right, so they could sign each other’s casts. They had matching Halloween costumes until they were thirteen and decided it was embarrassing.
Ezoic
Both sixteen now. Both juniors at Lafayette High School in Lexington, Kentucky. Both tall and gangly and constantly hungry and allergic to answering text messages.
And for two months, they’d spent nearly every weekend together.
Or so we thought.
“Denise,” I said. My voice sounded strange. Far away. “When did you last see Nathan?”
Ezoic
She was quiet for a moment. Thinking.
“Early August, I think,” she said. “Before school started. He came over for a cookout. What about Cole?”
I thought about it.
“Same,” I said. “August.”
Eight weekends.
Eight.
Every Friday since the end of August, Nathan had packed his backpack, kissed me on the cheek, and said, “I’m going to Cole’s. Back Sunday.”
