I dreamt about my mom that night. A nightmare really. So real, it was hard to move when I finally woke up. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, fighting back my urge to burst into tears. I never understood why Dad stopped talking about her until just now. Even though I was only a child when it happened, it had somehow preserved itself deep in my mind just waiting for a moment like last night to bring it out once more.

When I finally managed to peel myself out of bed, I zombied to the bathroom thinking a good hot shower would help relax my mind. It worked, until the hot water suddenly went cold just as I was lathering my now regrettably long hair. If I could groan right now, I'd do it.

Going back to my room to put some clothes on, I was greeted with an empty suitcase. You've got to be kidding me... All my clothes were in the wash. I was so tired from last night that I completely bypassed putting my clothes from the washer into the dryer before I headed upstairs. I fell back onto the floor completely defeated and so frustrated. Could anything else possibly go wrong today?

I closed my eyes then and inhaled deeply. You're fine Molly, the inner voice tells me on the exhale that I prolonged until I felt my nerves settle. That was when my phone chimed, and Dad telling me that he wants lunch again. It was beginning to feel like he purposely forgets his lunch just so we may eat together.

To my amazement, my clothes and our lunches got done with just enough time left for me to make it to Dad before his lunch break ended. Throwing the sandwiches along with a couple apples and water bottles into my backpack, I slip into my shoes and rush out of the house, knowing but not quite caring that I didn't lock the door behind me.

Punching the code to the garage I waited as patiently as I could for it to rise then rushed in and grabbed my bike that I had propped up against a shelving unit. When I said that we lived a minimalist lifestyle, that did not include the garage, which was stacked to the ceiling with boxes. There was just enough space for my bike, the lawnmower, which had come with the house, and a cooler Dad uses for keeping fish meat.

As I pulled my bike out from where it sat, the pedal snagged onto the shelving unit, causing a box that had been sitting poorly on the top shelf to fall, knicking my ankle as it hit the ground. The contents in the box came pouring out onto the concrete floor. With a sharp inhale in reaction to the sting I felt, the bike dropped as I went to to nurse my ankle. Knowing I was on a time crunch, I quickly picked up the box and began stuffing it back up with the scattered contents.

It was mostly papers and folders, but there was also a lean, rectangular storage box with a combination lock and a set of keys amongst them. Tossing them into the box, my eyes catch a fraction of a word written on a folder under a stack of papers. Gret. I reached for the folder and my chest tightened when the papers on top had slid off. What was this? It was a list of names, staring with Gretchen's. Every one of the names belonged to every friend I had ever had. All except the last one. I don't remember having a friend named Atlas.

Why were they written down? And in my dad's handwriting? When I opened the folder, a small stack of papers fell into my lap. Retrieving one, I immediately recognized the girl in the picture. This was Gretchen. Skimming over the paper, it was apparent that it was her biography.

Gretchen Haynes, I read in my mind. Date of birth: December 12, height: 5'4, weight: 115, hair color: blonde, eye color: green... My dad had recorded everything down about her from her description to where she lived, went to school, everything. Putting her aside, I grabbed the stack and spread them out so that I could see them all at once. Every last one of them was a biography, a very detailed biography with a photo that had obviously been taken without them realizing.

No way... I thought suddenly as I picked the bottom paper that had been pushed out further than the rest. I stared at the photo of a smiling young boy with black hair and pale skin. This is him. This is the boy from my fond memory. For a split moment I had completely forgotten that I was shocked. To see a photo of the boy after not seeing him for thirteen years was amazing. My mind had obviously fuzzed out his image over the years, but this was undoubtedly him. There was a strange familiarity to him, like I had seen him before other than through my memory, but I couldn't place how.

His name is Atlas, my inner voice began to speak as I read over his biography. It had not been updated, which was a bit disheartening. I kind of hoped that maybe I could find him again and get reaquainted. The biography looked like it was rushed as half of it was left with "unknown." One thing that stuck out was Dad's scribbled side note off to the side. At first it was hard to read, but the longer I studied it the more it became readable.

Eye contact. Watch for side effects.

What did that even mean? I flipped the page over to see if there was anymore on that, but it was blank. None of this made any sense, and the only one who could make sense of it was waiting for me to bring lunch. I shoved the papers back into the folder and slipped it into my back pack before throwing the rest back into the box. After I kicked it aside, I threw my leg over my bike and pushed off.

What if Dad was the reason all my friends have been disappearing on me? I almost felt betrayed by the idea. Talking to him straight was the best way to find out for sure. I was also curious how Dad knew about my encounter with the boy. That was the day I had sneaked out of the beach house we had been renting, and it was the boy's father who eventually interrupted our play. I was left to walk back home myself, so how did he find out?

Barely stopping, I swing off my bike and let it roll until it toppled on its side as I kept walking.

"Hey Molly." I was so focused on finding Dad that I had not even realized that I passed Will.

"Have you seen Dad?" I knew he knew the sign for dad and that's all that really mattered.

"Dad? Your dad?" Who else? I nodded with a little attitude.

"He's out at the boat," he replies. "Are you alright?"

I probably should have said yes and been on my way, but instead, I held out the folder to him. He took it and as he flipped through them, he raised a brow glancing at me every so often.

"Keeping track of your friends?" He asked curiously.

I shook my head. "Not me, Dad."

"Your dad?" He began to look through them again with more intent this time. I suddenly felt the need to explain my dad's possible reasons not fully understanding them myself. It was the reason I was here afterall.

So I brought out my phone and as fast as I could, I began to type. "He's not that type of person, I hope you don't get the wrong idea. He made them all feel like they belonged in our family, but never once got too close to them."

"That's not what I was thinking at all," Will replied with a laugh. "But thanks for now putting it into my mind." He picked out one and showed me. "He looks familiar, too."

"I met that boy when I was six. I don't know how Dad found out about him, because we only spent one afternoon together." Will nodded. "Wait, he looks familiar to you?"

"Yeah, like that guy you showed me yesterday. Doesn't he to you?" My eyes widened and I snatched the paper out of his hands. "I mean, I could be wrong, but there are a lot of similarities." Just the thought of the possibility was enough for me to turn heel and completely forget why I had come here in the first place.

"Molly," I could hear Will calling behind me. "Molly wait up!" I was almost to my bike when I felt his hand on my shoulder. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to look for him," I signed, shrugging him off my shoulder.

"You're going to the guy from yesterday?" I nodded as I got onto my bike. "Do you know where he is?"

I paused. That was a good question. I didn't even think as to where he'd be right now. I was just going to go back to the place I had the most luck seeing him, but who knew if he was actually there.

"Let me help you," he offered. "I may just happen to know where he works."

"Really?" I jumped off my bike, eyes wide with excitement. "Please take me!" He laughed lightly at me, but nodded toward his bike, me following at his heels.

I promised him I wouldn't see him again, but I hoped he'd hear me out. Because if he was the boy from my past, I had also promised that we'd be friends no matter what. If I could make him remember me, maybe things can be different.

It was a short ride to where Will believed him to be. My heart was pounding now, both with excitement and hesitation.

"If he's working today, he's going to be out on the boardwalk. Look for the dolphin tours," Will said when he pulled into a parking spot.

He handed me the paper that I had folded until it just showed the picture. There was no way I wanted to show him that my dad had researched him. He'd probably think it was me anyway. I slid off the bike and took two steps before turning back around.

"Thank you," I smiled. He nodded back, returning the smile faintly.

"Do you need me to go with you?" As tempting as that sounded, I shook my head. "I'll be here if you need me."

With every step I took, I could feel my stomach knotting tighter and tighter. A mixture of hesitation and excitement. I was nervous what the outcome of this picture was going to be. Would it be him? Have I finally reaquainted with the one person who unknowingly got me through a very low point in my life?

As exciting as that sounded, what excited me more was the opportunity to have him hold me in his gaze again. In fact, the closer I drew toward the docks, the more I started to think about his deep blue eyes and how deeply I wanted to see them, to see him. When I finally reached the place Will mentioned, my whole body was becoming numb with nerves. Maybe I could just go back and tell Will he isn't here. Then I can wait and bring it up to him whenever I see him again.

Just as I was turning, feeling okay with my decision I hear, "looking to take a tour?" Come from within the boat. Too late now... I turn and head into Capt. Johnny's boat. "They're currently out now, but another is scheduled in a couple hours."

In my phone I typed, "I am looking for someone named Atlas," and showed it to the rather depleted looking woman. She was careful not to look me in the eye after she read it. Her tired face had suddenly become distant and unsure, like I had asked something I probably shouldn't have.

"You just missed him," she finally said.

My heart skipped a beat at the confirmation of the name. So he still lived here. All this time I had been here and so was he. This still may not be the same person I am thinking of, but the fact that I could finally meet my childhood friend was enough for the courage within me to kick in.

"Do you know where I can find him?" I typed and showed the woman. She tucked in her lips, looking out the other end of the boat like she was waiting for someone to come save her. So I quickly typed again. "It's important. I wouldn't ask otherwise." The woman read it, but still looked hesitant to answer.

When I was just about to give up and thank her, she spoke. "You can find him at Roanoke Island Inn just down the boardwalk past the lighthouse."

I signed her a thank you a couple times before walking out of the boat, looking both ways until I saw the small lighthouse to my left. Not wasting another moment, I headed toward it. There was so much anticipation, so much excitment that I felt like I may explode when I finally saw him again. I just hope he recognizes me as well.