What would I do? Episode 2

[Therin]

The bright, fluorescent lights of the con glared balefully some thirty feet overhead. People milled about seemingly without aim, talking to the nearest stranger, commenting on whatever it seemed fit to comment on. I was…separate from it all, as I always am. If I had had my way, if my fear had won out over my curiosity, over my longing, I would be outside, wandering the streets of Atlanta, just walking…and thinking. I was doing just that anyway, but it felt…close…inside the building. The walls were within sight, there was no free air. People pressed in around me, brushing against my sleeves and pushing me in the directions they were headed. I hated it. The closeness, the heat, the lack of circulating air. But I was there, nonetheless, and by god, I was determined to have fun. As much as possible, under the circumstances. We were walking. Wandering aimlessly through the building, looking at the display tables, and talking. At least, my companions were talking. Serina was talking to Rob about Georgia, and Rob was telling Serina about Maryland, from his rather skewed point of view. I was just walking. The fact that I was walking with Rob, Serina, Krys, and Josh might as well have been coincidence. I was thinking. I do not now recall what I was thinking, but I was deep in thought, as I always am when I’m in a crowd. It helps me to escape, to ignore the masses of humanity that surrounded me.
That was when she caught my eye. Through an almost miraculous gap in the crowd, I could suddenly see all the way to the huge fountain that sparkled in the center of the room. She sat on the rim of the fountain, her knees tucked up to her chest, and her head buried in her arms. From that far away, and with such a quick glimpse, I couldn’t really see much else, but that simple image tugged at me in some way I cannot define. It was as though…I was being called, pulled toward her. I tapped the shoulder of the friend beside me, I think it was Serina, and started to work my way through the crowd to the fountain. She was still sitting there when I arrived. She was about nine at the time, and as I got closer, I noticed her shoulders were shaking. It wasn’t until I was practically standing over that I perceived the quiet, painful sobs of a child who is crying for herself alone, because she knows already that nobody else is listening. I could not stand seeing someone hurt so much, and my heart broke for this little girl who had no one else in the world right now. I had to help. If I had simply gone on my way, I would never have forgiven myself.
I knelt so that I was looking up at the girl perched on the rim of the fountain, and talked softly.
“Hey. Hey, now. What’s wrong?”
She spoke tremulously without lifting her head, “I l-lost my-my mom.” And then began crying again.
In that moment, my heart went out to her, and I wanted, more than anything else in the world, to help this little girl. The sight of her was simply too much to bear. I reached up to rest my hand on her back reassuringly, and continued in the same soft voice, offering words of encouragement and support. I’ve never been good at words like that, but right then, they simply flowed from me like water from a tap, and as I continued to speak and rub her back softly, she began to calm down, and to quiet her tears. The feeling was…indescribable. I had never felt anything like it before, and even looking back, I couldn’t portray it if I tried. But…it was…wonderful. It was like my heart was lifted from me and sent floating among the clouds, to bask in the sunny wonder of the heavens.
Then she raised her head and looked at me, and our eyes met for the first time. It was something akin to the love I felt for my girlfriend, different on so many levels, but deep down, almost the same. I smiled reassuringly, and she smiled back tentatively, guilelessly. It was the unabashedly pleasant smile of an innocent child.
“Hi,” I said, and offered my hand, “I’m Josh. What’s your name?”
She paused, still unsure, and then, softly, “…Megan.” And she took my hand.
“Hello, Megan. And these here,” I gestured to my friends, who had followed but thankfully stayed back and silent, “are Serina, Rob, Krys, and Josh.”
She looked at me quizzically, her face still streaked by the tears that had been flowing earlier, “But you’re Josh.”
“That’s right. But so is he. Isn’t that silly? We have the same name but he doesn’t look like me at all, does he?”
She giggled softly, “Hehe, no he doesn’t. How did he get your name?”
“That’s a question you’ll have to ask him, Megan. Before you do that, though, I have a question for you. It’s a very serious question, and I want you to be sure before you answer. Do you understand?”
The smile faded, and the giggles stopped. “Uhuh…?”
“Ok. Can you tell us your mom’s name?”
“…Melissa. Melissa James.” Her face was dark now, and sad again. I felt sorry to have brought her back to reality.
“Well, Megan, I’m going to tell that other Josh to go and find your mom. He’s very good at finding things, aren’t you Josh?”
“Erm…yeah.”
I stood slowly, and helped her to her feet. She stood just a little higher than my waist, with straight brown hair falling down her back, held out of her face by a small neckerchief, tied in the back of her head. Her arms were slender, and just beginning to take on a grace that would become her defining beauty in years to come. I looked at Serina, Rob, Krys and the other Josh.
“We’re taking her back to the P. O. table. Josh, go find the service desk, and have them page Melissa James to our table. Krys…could you help me keep her company?”
“…Yeah.”
As the five of us, minus Josh, but plus Megan, made our way through the crowd toward the home table, she didn’t let go of my hand. Not once.

“MELISSA JAMES, PLEASE REPORT TO THE POCKET OTAKU TABLE. MELISSA JAMES, PLEASE REPORT TO THE POCKET OTAKU TABLE.”

Half an hour later, having sent a few pocket otaku members with P. O. shirts on to wander the con and provide directions should one Melissa James ask for them, we were still waiting. I turned to Megan.
“Megan, could you tell me what your mom looks like?”
“Ummm…She’s kinda pretty, I guess.”
“What color hair does she have?”
“…Like mine.”
“Is it long or short?”
“Long.”
“Does she tie it back with anything?”
“…I don’t know.”
Questions continued in much the same vane. I no longer paid attention to the bright, almost eye-watering costumes that went by on the way to the cosplay contest. Megan did, though. She found most of them positively hilarious. Chris’, when he put it on, was almost frightening. She wouldn’t speak to him for the rest of the day, instead choosing to hide behind me, or sometimes Krys.

“MELISSA JAMES, PLEASE REPORT TO THE POCKET OTAKU TABLE. MELISSA JAMES, PLEASE REPORT TO THE POCKET OTAKU TABLE.”

Late night. The con was closing. The room, now nearly empty, struck me with its sheer size. The walls that had seemed so close during the day were now over a football field away. The space was refreshing, but at the same time, saddening. Melissa James had never showed up. Our large Pocket Otaku group was now down to just Megan, myself, Rob, and Serina. Ever-dedicated, never-flagging, tireless Serina. When she finally came to me and said we had to go, I knew that was it. No Melissa James. Not today, but maybe tomorrow. She agreed to let Megan spend the night at her house, her house being the only one that didn’t charge per night, but Megan flatly refused to part company with me. I wasn’t sure what to do. I couldn’t ask Serina to let us both stay at her place. That was simply too much. I tried again to persuade Megan to go alone, but she simply clung to my waist and refused to budge. When Serina actually offered to let us both stay there, I couldn’t find the words to express my gratitude. I still can’t. But, wherever you are, Rina, I will always be in your debt. Always.

Early morning, absolutely not my favorite time of day, I rolled out of bed and we headed over to the con, Megan and I. We stopped by the desk, where I left a note for the clerk to page Melissa James every half hour. The building was nearly as empty as it had been last night. The lights glared, and the floor stretched far into the distance. I could clearly see the fountain upon which Megan had been sitting the day before. It was massive, and quite pretty, now that I took the time to look at it. Water cascaded from the petals of a huge, but surprisingly delicate-seeming concrete flower, down across the bowl-shaped leaves, and into the basin below. The space around it, in which I had hoped to see a vaguely Megan-esque shape, was empty, and no one saw hide or hair of Melissa James for the entire day. Other than that, it was wonderful, possibly the most fun I have had in my entire life. I think we sold something like sixty Otaku signatures, $120, enough to keep Pocket Otaku running for who knows how long. We also unveiled numerous additions to the community, and bypassers and Otakus alike were delighted. I got to make fun of Chris’ costume, and sent Megan nearly into hysterics by my hoarse, out-of-key rendition of “Girls” by the Beastie Boys. Through it all, though, I think I still registered in the back of my mind the fact that no Melissa James seemed to be appearing to claim her lost waif. At the end of the day, Megan seemed to realize it too. Staring out over the empty room once again, I hugged her tight as she buried her face in my chest and cried her eyes out. My heart ached, and my mind raged against someone who could do this to her own daughter. At that point, when the elusive Melissa James was still not forthcoming, I lost all hope of finding Megan’s parents, and began to worry about what I would do now. I couldn’t foist her off on Serina or Krys, certainly not Josh. I would have asked Excel, had he been there, but he wasn’t, and I had no access to a computer with Instant Messenger on it. I thought of finding an orphanage, but decided I couldn’t stand to leave this poor child alone in an uncaring world. That left only myself, but I hadn’t the money to get her on to the Amtrak to MD, and wasn’t sure if I was fit to care for a nine-year-old in any case. I asked everyone I knew there for help. Josh, Krys, Serina, Chris, Mak, even Rob, though I was sure he wouldn’t be of much help in this instance. Their answers were varied…

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Erm...at this point, I call for a bit of corny audience participation. Those I've mentioned...post answers, if you want.