I am lost.This book reminds me of the song Hotel California.
But I couldn’t face the truth. That’s why I left, why I drove straight, why I left Mom alone to face the news by herself. What kind of person does that? A person who deserves this. A person who deserves to lose what she treasures. I deserve to be lost, to never see home again, to never swim in the ocean again.
"Mirrors on the ceiling,I’m sure there are people out there who have always known what they wanted to be in life. Who are where they want in life. I was never that person, and I’m not that person now.
The pink champagne on ice
And she said 'We are all just prisoners here, of our own device.'"
I have to believe that I’ll escape someday. But maybe there is no hope.Lauren made a wrong turn. She made a mistake.
Maybe it’s over.
Maybe I’m in hell.
Maybe I’m dead.
Maybe I can never return.
Maybe this is it.
Behind me, the man says, “You were lost; you are found.” As if they’re one, everyone outside—the kids, the woman planting dead flowers, the man in the dirty business suit—all turn to face the diner.From adults who stare at Lauren with knowing in their eyes, with hostility, to children who come straight out of Stephen King’s Children of the Corn.
Inside the diner, everyone applauds.
Children, as ragged as those on the outskirts of town, are crouched in the alleys between the shops. Perched on top of and around Dumpsters, they watch me, their eyes bright and hard. One little girl in a princess dress sucks on her thumb. She has a dirty teddy bear tucked under her elbow and a knife in her other hand. She squeezes the handle as if it’s as comforting as a teddy bear.They know what’s going on. They understand Lauren’s confusion, even if she’s in denial about it. And it is denial. Lauren’s mother is dying, she can’t be there for her, instead, she’s in this godforsaken place---trapped, for possibly forever? Talk about desperation. Talk about despair.
I retreat away from the center of town, back toward the motel and the diner. I hear footsteps behind me.
The children are trailing after me.
I’m the Finder. The Finder and the Missing Man, two sides of a coin, not the same. I bring them in, and he sends them on. I can’t send you home. But I can keep you alive.” He holds out his hand. “If you trust me.”Peter, who found her. Peter, who might give her a reason to stay. Peter, who might be the person to give her hope, who prevents her from falling into utter, complete despair.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Peter jumps to his feet. “I’ve watched you yearn to leave. Now I’m going to show you why you should want to stay.” He holds out his hand.Lauren:
I take it.
I try to push the ache deep down like I always do and pretend it’s enough to paint walls and collect teacups.This is going to sound stupid, but I see a lot of myself in Lauren. It helps immensely to be able to connect to the main character, and I suspect that it’s the reason why I found myself enjoying this book so much. Lauren has a dry, deadpan sense of humor. She doesn’t crack inappropriate jokes at stupid times, but neither does she take herself completely seriously. Yet she's special, somehow. We all are.
“You don’t seem to be an interesting person,” he says. “Lost your way emotionally, psychologically, and physically. Cut-and-dried, really. There must be more to you.”She’s a serious person. She kind of has to be, with a mother like that, with no father. She’s an adult, doing adult things, and Lauren has mostly been satisfied with the status quo, and is rather terrified at being forced out of it in Lost. She just wants to go back home.
He lands softly beside me, like a cat, bent knees. He rises smoothly. “I told you I find the kernel of hope. You lose hope and I can’t find you. I’ll always find you. But you have to exist to be found!”Just right. The main love interest in this book is the inscrutable Peter, and he has a very Peter Pan feel, if Peter Pan had been a grown ass man who’s sexy as fuck. Like Peter Pan, this book’s Peter has a tendency to pop into your bedroom during odd times, even though I felt like he never reached the realm of stalkerhood. And I hate stalkers, so nyah!
“You can’t save everyone. Consider that your next lesson. That man died before he came here.” He’s earnest in a way I’ve never seen him, eyes intent on mine. I imagine I see a flicker of...what? Sadness? All the childlike play is gone, and I see a man who looks as though he’s lost more than I can imagine.He is a kind person, who appears initially gruff. He understands Lauren. He literally saves her life. He encourages her. He builds up her confidence. He does not make Lauren rely on him. If I could best compare the relationship between Peter and Lauren, I would say that they are similar to Valek and Yelena from Poison Study. Peter lets Lauren have her space.
I don’t care what he thinks of me, so long as he helps me get home. I don’t need to make friends, even with shockingly handsome and strangely fascinating men who might as well have walked right out of my subconscious.But it's in him that she might find herself.
Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
'Relax,'' said the night man,
'We are programmed to receive.
You can check-out any time you like,
But you can never leave!'"