Samantha – When I was a child my parents sent me to Bible Camp (Oh mom and dad, just imagine all the money you could have saved if you had the premonition that you daughter was going to be a bigbigbig slut) and I met the most wonderful girl there. Her name was Sam. We were the only two tomboys at this camp (something that was highly frowned upon), we would run amok and shit disturb all day. Looking back I know that what I felt for her was actually a crush and not just friendship (a prevalent theme). Once camp was over we exchanged numbers. What I didnt know was that her family was homeless, and her being at camp was her grandmothers way of providing a “normal” childhood for Sam. Sam called me once from a pay phone in northern Maine. We talked about how much we missed being trouble makers and how she would call again when she got to the next town. That never happened. I never heard from her again. I cried for the rest of the summer. I went back to that same camp 2 years in a row just incase she showed up. It never happened. I was 9yo.

 

McDermot – In grade 8 there was one boy who I was immeasurably smitten with. He had pretty brown curly hair, he was slight but taller than me, and he was smitten with me too. But as a child I was a wallflower. I wasnt necessarily an unattractive child but I was awkward and painfully shy, and he made me forget that I was those things. He would ask me out every day at school, I would usually inflict some minor physical injury (soft kick to the shin, push into the lockers, etc) and run away. We spent an entire spring together teasing one another and growing closer. Then one day he didnt come to school. Then he didnt come to school for a week. Everyone started to worry. We asked teachers, and his friends but no one knew what happened to him. A police officer came to clean out his locker (really strange in small town Nowhere Scotia – but it turned out to be his uncle) and wouldnt tell us anything. To this day for all I know he is dead, or under protected custody somewhere. If he changed his name, and Ive changed my name there is no way I will ever be able to find him. I still love him, that innocent first love.

 

Annick –  When I first moved to montreal, I lived in a communal house in the mile-end. One of my roommates was dating Annick, so she was constantly at the house. I had no job or school at the time, and neither did she – so we would bike around the city dumpster diving and sunbathing in the parc. She and my roommate had a nasty break up, and immediately afterwards she started dating a drug dealer. She had been a heroin addict at one point in time and we all knew that had ‘Bad Idea’ written all over it. But you couldnt tell Annick anything. One day she just left for ass end of no where Quebec with her drug dealer boyfriend. We heard from her sporadically and all offered her tickets to come home. She never accepted. Then one day I got a phone call. Annick had died from a drug overdose.

My personality type is one that craves constant communication. I quite often have to swallow my pride and desire though to suit other peoples needs and boundaries. Depending on the situation it can turn me into a giant ball of stress. When a friend went missing recently (despite his being a recent friend) I went catatonic/manic. I wanted to send messages every minute of the day, but feared receiving a message back saying he had passed away. I wanted to hunt him down but feared being told I would never find him for what ever reason.

Some people do just fine with people disappearing off of the face of the planet. I know lots of people who are unphased by never hearing from McDermot again, I on the other hand treat it as a challenge or a mystery that needs to be solved. A character flaw I am sure.