The Missing Bride: a cellphone novel by Alysse Aallyn

Chapter 13 – Shock the Virgin

Over breakfast I braced myself
With questions.
“If Mirabel was a scout for porn –
What does that mean
She actually did?”
Verne moaned. Why would he pretend
“Shock the Virgin” is so distasteful? It’s
Usually everyone’s favorite game.

“I tried so hard to make her quit,”
He sighed pointedly
Reminding who’s the victim here.
“She looked for investors at
Openings and parties.”
Angry and increasingly incensed,
Working himself up,
He pushed his plate away.
“Is that how she found you?”
First question he refused to answer,
Playing with his fork as if he’d stab me.
I summoned up my calmest adult voice.

“Mirabel’s not where she should be.
Let’s call the police. I think it’s time.”
He dismissed this: “Too humiliating.
They don’t know her well enough
To find her. We do.”
I felt just the opposite. The police look
For the actual person; Verne
Only wanted certain Mirabels – others
It seemed, he needed to stay gone.

On a sudden inspiration –
“The trash!” he raced to collar
Overflowing baskets and
Upend them on the counter.
Good idea, I must admit.
She had left with something he required
That much was obvious.
We attacked the problem like an archaeological
Dig; separating
Paper here and garbage there.

Since what we really needed was her phone –
Phones more intimate than poor fungible
Bodies – I considered ways
To break into her account.
Still, we turned up intriguing items; a
“Welcome new members” card for
“Bioceutically Renewed Day Spa” and a crumpled pack
Of ginger parsley tea. I knew the tea
Through schoolgirl gossip –
Never tried it myself;
Supposed to cue overdue menstruation.

Surprise! Mirabel bothered
With menstruation: tiny as she was?
It perhaps had other uses.
Levered out the members’ card –
No need to mention the tea – and tidied up the mess.
Verne’s shoulders curled in
Frustration. “There’s nothing here.”
“I found something.” Offered him the card.
He was rude. “How’s this help?”

He was tough to help
And something about that made me mad.
But if my school teaches anything it’s
Disguise your feelings.
So I said coldly,
“We should check her phone.”
“How can we – if she’s taken it with her?”
“There might be a way if you pay the bill.”
He rolled his eyes. “Now where’s my laptop?”
Really, he was helpless.

“I think I saw it beside the sofa.”
He blocked me from retrieving it.
“You finish breakfast. I’ll get it.”
I couldn’t eat with him typing
In the other room.
“What are you finding?”
“Nothing.” He turned away.

Now we play
“Baffle the Virgin”?
“Mislead the Virgin?” But
I had to give it to him –
Verne was realer than disappearing
Mirabel, fast becoming legend.
There was a lot we couldn’t
Tell the fuzz.
For example, let’s say
You wanted to kill someone
But create an alibi.

It would help to have the person
Seem to disappear all on their own.
What if the Mirabel I’d met
Was an impostor who’d somehow
Managed to muster Mirabel’s
Special look? If it was time for cops then
It was time for parents; what
On earth to tell the folks?
Thinking of my parents caused
My phone to buzz.

Damn that psychic link. Pressed
“Ignore” but knew it wouldn’t
Work for long.
“Nope,” said Verne, hardboiled American –
“Can’t get in.”
“Does she have a “find my phone app?”
Should have brought my laptop! My tiny phone screen
Renders map apps useless.
“We don’t have it.”

This man was a death-ray.
I contemplated ways
To lessen all this tension.
“Well at least we’ve got Bioceutically Renewed to try.
But first I must call Mom and Dad.”
I closed the door for
Privacy but Dad only wanted
To speak to Verne.

More interested in talking to a man he’d never met
Than his own kid! “Ignore the Virgin?”
Verne said Mirabel just pulled a “Mirabel.”
“Wedding’s off, I take it?” asked my Dad.
So relieved! “Not because of anything
I’ve done or said,”
Verne emphasized. “She just can’t seem to cope.”

Handed back the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”
“Take the first train home.”
“Dad, it’s only Saturday!”
“You can’t stay in some young man’s apartment.
It won’t look good.”
“Who’s looking?” I demanded. “Besides, he’s staying
at The Stanhope,” I winked at Verne.
“I can help the cops!”

“Don’t call police over a case of bridal nerves.
You can’t stay there alone! Must I put your mother on?
You know she’ll back me up.”
“Let me call the Lowthers. Maybe they’re in town.”
Longtime family friends. He subsided.
“Parents are so awful,” I said out loud after
Severing connections.

“They think I’m a baby.”
“They want you to never age
And Verne smiled wickedly.
I found the Lowthers’ number and got only voicemail –
Should have figured that would happen!

They were at the Cold Spring house of course!
I enunciated clearly, “This is Richenda Marshott
With an emergency question. Please call back
As soon as you get this.”
This granted me another day at least
Till someone might check in.

If I spoke to any member of the family –
even barf-inducing Sierra – I could fend off Dad
For the full weekend.
Verne looked hungrily at my phone.
“What question will you ask?”
“Why, if they’ve heard from Mirabel of course.”

Dropped it in my pocket. High-waist jeans
Have deep, deep pockets.
“I’m going to the Day-Spa,”
I said, allowing him to bail.
But naturally he said,
“I’m coming.”