Once Was Lost by Sara Zarr

says, and heads off toward what I guess is the kitchen.
    “You want to sit down?” Nick asks me, indicating an armchair near the piano.
    I sit, and the little dog comes over to sniff my legs. I reach to pet it. “Probably smells my cat. What’s his name?”
    “Her. Noodle.” Hearing her name, Noodle goes over to Nick, who’s still standing there with his brownie. “She’s been looking for Jody. I think that’s actually one of the hardest things for my mom… seeing Noodle running around the house, all frantic, smelling Jody everywhere.”
    He crouches and scratches Noodle’s head, then looks at me with a kind of startled expression, like he’s just noticed who I am, that I’m here. “Thanks for coming. It’s been awhile, huh?”
    I could point out that we only just saw each other on Sunday, but since then time has stretched and bent in strange ways so I know what he means. “I was going to come over with my dad a couple times, but…” I’m unsure how to finish that sentence. But I was too chicken? Too selfish?
    Erin comes back in with some paper towels and two glasses of milk. “I took the liberty,” she says, handing us each a glass. I sip from mine, watching Nick finally take a bite of his brownie, then another, then finishing it off with a third and gulping down most of his milk before wiping his mouth with a paper towel.
    Realizing we’re staring, he says, “Really good,” and picks up another one.
    I glance at Erin, thinking we should leave or be saying something meaningful, or do something other than watch Nick eat. The youth group was wrong, obviously, about my dad rubbing off on me.
    Nick saves us by picking up the plate of brownies and holding it out to me. “Go ahead. I can’t eat all these. I mean, I can, but I shouldn’t. And we’re not exactly having a food shortage here with people bringing stuff constantly.” I take one.
    Something about the way he offers the brownie reminds me of when he asked me to dance at that wedding, his natural niceness coming through in unexpected ways, even at a time like this.
    I bite into the brownie. It’s good, and still warm. I think hard about what I could say to Nick. I’m sorry about Jody feels empty and seems to go without saying. Erin starts talking to him, and I watch his face. What would I want someone to say to me if a person I loved disappeared, and I didn’t know where she was?
    A person I love did disappear.
    But it’s different. Every future I imagine has my mom in it. Whereas Nick has to imagine possible futures without Jody, without that person who looks like you, and knows what it’s like to be in your family. Possible futures as an only child.
    “So, you know,” Erin says to Nick, “we’re all here for you, whatever you need.” Her cell phone rings; she picks it up from where it’s sitting on the coffee table with her car keys, and makes an apologetic face. “I should get this.”
    I eat another bite of brownie. Take a sip of milk. Pet the dog. Continue to say nothing. The Youth have no idea how much they should regret sending me.
    “Can’t the twins take you?” Erin is saying. “Well, did you ask?… Okay, give me a couple of minutes.” She hangs up. “Allie needs a ride home. I can’t let anyone walk or I’ll be in deep doo-doo.” Looking at me, she says, “I don’t want to rush you out, Sam. Why don’t I go get Allie, run her home, and then come back for you?”
    “Oh.” I start to get up. “I can just go now.” It’s painful enough with Erin here, who at least is a kind of buffer.
    “No,” Nick says quickly, almost desperate. “Stay. I mean, you just got here.”
    I glance at Erin. Please say you have to get me home.
    “Yeah, Sam, stay.” She picks up her keys.
    “You don’t mind coming back for me?”
    “Don’t be crazy.” And she gives Nick another quick hug—it’s so easy for her—and walks out. Nick takes a third brownie. I look around the room at all of the pictures and cards, just to