What Do You Mean, "Missing?"

Corrine: a name I haven’t said in a few years, but a name that now sits in my brain every moment of every day. I saw her five days a week for 12 years in my small home-city, Hopewell, Virginia. But she’s been missing for over a month now. 

Pictures and posts about her have been circulating through social media. It’s become a routine now to wake up and scroll through my photos to find the poster with her smiling face on it and the bold, red words “MISSING” “REWARD IF FOUND” to post on Instagram. Sometimes I look at the collage of photographs of her smiling face, her signature bun on top of her head, and her identifying tattoos and wonder what she’s up to—what she’s thinking about. She’s probably goofing off, as usual. She was always laughing or smiling. Or maybe she’s dancing around to music, like she used to in the hallway on the way to third period. 

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the sleepovers she used to throw. The silly games we used to play. The confessions and whispered secrets. The chicken biscuits her dad used to cook for us the morning after we all stayed up until 3 a.m. watching R-rated movies that we knew we weren’t supposed to. Back then, that was the biggest trouble we found ourselves in. 

I’ve been thinking about how we used to pretend we were chefs who made gourmet grass and flower soup when we were three years old on the Wee School playground. Back then we only had to search for Corrine when we were playing our millionth game of hide-and-seek. 

Art by Madelyn Mulreaney

I’ve been thinking about how strong she was to tackle every day with such a love for life and laughter, despite all of the things she’d been through. I always envied Corrine’s fearlessness. I’ve been thinking about how she always knew how to cheer me up, even if I was heartbroken over another idiotic high school boy or stressed about the political climate. But most of all, I’ve been thinking about the dreams and the future she always talked about. College. A spouse, maybe. A happy life. Will she make it there? Or is she really gone?

There have been lots of rumors about what happened to her. There have been so many that I have no idea what to believe anymore. 

Some people think she was picked up by sex traffickers since she was out early in the morning the last day she was seen. Other people think she got involved in something crime-related, the kind she’d definitely tell us all about when she came back. She always did have the strangest, most dangerous stories to tell. Some people think she skipped town just for fun. I mean, let’s be honest, Corrine had a reputation as a hell-raiser who loved a good adventure. 

I like to think she escaped to start a new life. That maybe Corrine wanted to put everything behind her and try again. I know it sounds silly, but it’s better than thinking she’s dead—the only explanation some people have for what happened to her. I try not to listen to any of them until I have proof, though. As far as I’m concerned, she’s living a new life in a new state with new goals, friends, and priorities. It selfishly helps me feel better. 

People always say, “You never think it can happen to someone you know, until it does.” And I think that’s the worst part of all of this. Sure, Corrine was always getting in trouble, but she always had a way out. Where is it this time? What situation was she in that made her completely disappear off the face of the earth? What could have been done to prevent this from happening? Why isn’t there more being done? The Prince George Police Department says her case is their “number one priority” at the moment. Then why did it take five days for them to seriously consider investigating her absence? Can we ever actually trust them to do what they’re supposed to do? 

Selfishly, I have to ask, how do I deal with a missing friend? I’ve never been in this situation before. I’ve prayed for families to find their children, or grandparents, or aunts, but I’ve never had to personally ask God to find someone for me. My childhood friend. So far, my only answer is to numb myself to it all. 

I’ve seen some of our classmates posting old videos of Corrine, begging for anyone to give information as to where she went. I’ve consoled a few of them myself, trying to assure them that their feelings of worry, fear, and anger are valid. I’ve wondered if my reaction has been too little. After all, I haven’t cried yet. I’m still not sure what to do or how to act. I have to admit, I feel guilty. I stop thinking about Corrine sometimes to preserve my own peace of mind. The first few days were just rough. I thought about her all the time, especially at night. My brain would do that thing where it brings up a million awful scenarios right as I’m about to fall asleep, then I had to think through every single one before I could finally relax fully. By then it was time to wake up. 

And although it is completely irrational, a part of me wonders if I was home would Corrine still be around. Of course, the answer is no. I wasn’t even home the day she went missing. But a tiny part of me still thinks I’m to blame. (I know, I need therapy). 

Forcing myself to believe Corrine is alive somewhere better is the only way I can go through my day, navigate a pandemic, write three ten-page final papers, and put meaningful energy into those still around me. 

I wish I had answers, Corrine. We all do. I hope you’re safe somewhere, drinking flavored water and eating Goldfish crackers like we used to.