Up Close And Gone

by Jennie Spallone

  “Of course, I want my grandchild to be delivered full or near full-term for all the reasons you mentioned. But Rachel is a stubborn young woman. Once she takes it into her head to obsess about her mother’s disappearance, she won’t be distracted.”

  The doctor’s silence suggested she was not pleased with dad’s response.

  “We’ll do all we can to reduce my sister’s stress,” Becca said. “Rachel meditates and does deep breathing exercises, and we’ve got positive news about mom, which should make her feel better.”

  Now the doctor was all smiles. “We’re all praying for your mother’s safe return.”

  “Thank you for your encouragement,” said dad.

  The doctor placed her palms together. “Many blessings.” Then she pulled back the curtain.

  Becca softly greeted her sister.

  “How you feeling, Old Yeller?”

  Rach’s eyes fluttered open and she gave her a weak smile. “Fine, Lassie.” Her voice sounded groggy.

  Dr. Nayman pulled Zan aside, but her words echoed. “Make sure your wife uses the bedside chamber pot. She needs to remain in bed for 24 hours.”

  Becca noted the old-fashioned words, wondering what country the doc was from.

  “Promise,” said Zander.

  The doctor left the room.

  Daddy turned his attention to Rachel. “You’ve had a long day. Take a nice rest. We’ll all be here when you get up.”

  Rach began to toss and turn. “Where’s Mommy? Why isn’t she here?”

  Zander smoothed her hair. “Sh. It’s all gonna be okay, babe.”

  Her voice rose a decibel. “I need mom!”

  She sounded delirious. Becca pressed the nurse’s button.

  The nurse hurried into the room and eyed Rachel’s blood pressure chart.

  Rachel shook her head from side to side. “Mommy? Where are you?”

  “You need to calm down, sweetie,” said the nurse as she cuffed her arm. At the sight of the results, she rushed from the room. Moments later, she returned with an oxygen mask which she placed over Rachel’s nose and mouth.

  “Breathe in, breathe out.” Rachel did as she was told.

  The nurse hooked Rachel up to an IV bag and attached it to the pole. She wasn’t going to appreciate dragging the pole around with her again, but she had to stay in bed, anyway.

  “This should relax you,” the nurse told her.

  Within seconds, Rachel’s body had stopped twitching. Soon she was snoring away.

  The nurse exited the room.

  Becca and her dad took their seats, but Zan continued to smooth Rach’s hair.

  “I put up with my wife’s snoring every night,” he whispered.

  “Tell me about it. I’ve had to put up with my wife’s snoring for forty years!”

  “I don’t snore,” Becca said proudly.

  “You get the Non-Snoring Golden Matzo Ball Award!” Dad said.

  “Thank you,” she said, panning for a selfie.

  A dinner cart arrived with Rachel’s food. Zan moved the cart away from the bed. “Rach mentioned you guys visited earlier today. What brings you back a second time?”

  Shoot! Her brother-in-law wasn’t supposed to be present for true confessions.

  Becca glanced at her dad. He gave her a look that said don’t even think about it.

  Zan looked from dad to her and back again.

  “Bet you guys are starving. Cafeteria’s open ‘til six. How ‘bout I run downstairs and get you both some food?”

  Becca snickered.

  He looked at her quizzically.

  “We went through this same scenario at lunch, only with dad, me, and Rach,” she explained.

  He grinned. “Be right back, then.”

  If Zan left now, Becca knew she wouldon’t have the courage to bring the topic up later, so she plunged ahead. “Before you go, your question deserves an answer.”

  He looked at her. “Okay. What’s up?”

  Becca balled her fists beneath her thighs. “Detective Hernandez received a valid lead about mom’s disappearance.”

  “Terrific. Who is it?”

  “Somebody our family might know.”

  “Really? Did she give you guys a name?”

  Becca shook her head. “She showed us a couple of pics.”

  “Got them with you?” Zan asked.

  “It’s late,” said dad. “Let’s do this tomorrow.”

  Her dad was trying to warn her off, but it was time for her to lighten her soul.

  Becca reached into her purse for the security camera pictures.

  Chapter 36

  Deborah

  February 1984

  Alan would be home from work any minute now. Tonight was Purim, and Deborah had just finished preparing the festive meal commemorating the salvation of the Jews through the leadership of Queen Esther. She smiled to herself as she carved the brisket in thin slices, just the way her husband liked it. She spooned homemade mashed potatoes and broccoli into the china serving bowls her mother had given her for a wedding present. She poured kosher grape wine into crystal glasses and placed them at their place settings, along with dinner plates, cutlery, and napkins. Life was easy when everything and everybody had an assigned place to be, to go.

  In preparation for tonight’s dinner, Deborah had pumped herself up with antidepressants, increasing her dosage from 20 mg to 50 mg. She’d recently begun to see Dr. Gardner again, this time for individual therapy. At last week’s appointment, the psychiatrist had cautioned her to only raise the dosage level by 5 mg at a time to see how her body reacted. But tonight was a special night for more than one reason. Deborah couldn’t allow her continued grief overshadow the special gift God had bestowed upon her earlier today.

  Last month, at the one-year anniversary of their death, time had stopped for both her and Alan. They’d taken a nosedive. The rabbi had come to pray with them and wish them God’s blessings for the future. But they’d buried themselves in a vault of memories and lacked enough energy to claw their way out.

  However, therapy and anti-depression medicine had snatched her from the dungeon; given her hope that maybe she could birth a healthy baby in the future. When Alan noticed her positive change in attitude, he’d also resumed therapy and medication.

  Bit by bit, communication between her and Alan improved. Happiness shimmered in their hearts. Then Purim had come along and shoved reality in their faces.

  It was devastating to realize this would have been the babies’ first Purim. She and Alan would have dressed their three babies in teeny tiny Mordecai shirts.

  They would have sounded the grogger to blot out wicked Haman’s name—but not loud enough to scare the babies.

  They’d have given each baby a drop of wine from their pinkie fingers. They’d have settled the babies in a stroller for triplets and wheeled them down the street to Synagogue for the Megillah reading about how Queen Esther saved the Jewish people from the wicked Haman.

  On the first day of Purim, she and Alan would have put their babies in their stroller and gone door to door, delivering Purim baskets filled with nuts, chocolate, candies, and baked goods to their Jewish neighbors. When they returned home, they’d have taken their babies’ tiny fingers and helped them place silver coins in a Tzedakah box to feed the poor.

  All these blessings, God had snatched from her and Alan. But this morning’s unexpected phone call had enabled her to see the light, and she was upping her anti-depression meds to ensure nothing interfered when she shared the news with her husband.

  Chapter 37

  Becca

  “Don’t do this, Becca,” her dad whispered.

  “If this is a bad time,” said Zander, “I can look at the pics tomorrow.”

  The truth must come out. It felt like she’d been sitting
in the dental chair, waiting for her wisdom teeth to be extracted. This time, she was the one doing the extracting. Her voice trembled as she pulled the pictures from her purse. “Now is fine.”

  “No!” Her dad’s lips form the word, but it was too late.

  Becca handed the pictures to her brother-in-law. She prepared for the worst. Neither he nor her sister would ever talk to her again. They’d accuse her of betraying them. Toss her in the nearest dumpster. Wipe their hands of her. Vomit filled her mouth. She rushed to the bathroom.

  Before she could shut the door, she hears Zan’s voice. “These pics are smeared, Bec. Your water bottle must be leaking.”

  Saved! Her nausea disappeared.

  Dad breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Maybe I can recognize the guy if you describe him,” Zan said helpfully.

  “Let’s revisit this discussion tomorrow,” Dad said firmly.

  Seriously, Becca wanted nothing more than to put this stepdad as suspect thing to bed. Mom used that term when a newspaper edition was ready to be printed. If they didn’t find her soon, she was going to die of grief.

  But if she and her dad weren’t back in Detective Hernandez’s office by 7 p.m., the police would be coming for their family—at least Zan’s family. She walked over to her brother-in-law.

  “Do not tempt fate a second time,” Dad murmured.

  She breathed in deeply. Then she spoke. “The guy they found looks like John Belushi. Black sunglasses. Black hat. Black suit. Black shoes. On the chubby side.”

  Zander adopted The Thinker pose. “Age?”

  She glanced at Dad. He was shaking his head in disgust.

  “Forty-something.”

  “Hm. Doesn’t sound like anyone I know. I can ask Mom or Kaiden, though.”

  Shoot! Zander’s younger brother would be dragged into the investigation. Oh, how she wanted to let her dad convince her that everything was going to be fine. But there was no way she could deny the aardvark in the room. If Zan’s stepdad was involved in her Mom’s disappearance, she needed to follow through, no matter the consequences.

  “Maybe the guy is a blues entertainer at a restaurant,” Zan says.

  Becca set fire to caution. “Maybe the guy is Aamer.”

  “My step-father?” He sounded incredulous.

  She nodded.

  Dad placed his head in his hands. “Aamer might be the last person to see my wife alive.”

  “That’s crazy. Your mom doesn’t even know my step-dad.”

  “Actually she does. They had a long chat on the restaurant patio before our name was called.”

  “Okay, so they talked. What’s the connection to Ma’s disappearance?”

  Dad spoke slowly. “Evidently, their chat wasn’t so friendly.”

  “Meaning?”

  Becca cleared her throat. “My mom interviewed your step-dad about the Koran.”

  “Did he get angry?”

  “He told her he’d happily answer all her questions.”

  “Did she ask him anything else?”

  “Mom asked about the relationship between ISIS and the Koran. Afterward, I really laid into her about being so rude.”

  “Ma gets a little out there sometimes, but this doesn’t sound like one of those times. Aamer is Muslim. He probably enjoyed teaching her about his religion.”

  “Then why did he sit at the opposite end of the brunch table from us? And why did he disappear after Mom left the restaurant?”

  “Nothing to do with Ma. Aamer drives a flower truck on the weekends.”

  “So your mother said, but that doesn’t make sense when he could make big bucks taxiing on the weekends instead, right?”

  “How would I know? I haven’t spoken to my mother’s second husband for a decade!”

  The resentment in his voice made Becca take a step back.

  “I still don’t understand the problem.” Zan’s voice rose.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Rachel’s groggy voice echoed through the hospital room.

  Chapter 38

  Deborah

  February 24, 1984

  Deborah pulled her husband to her and planted a big juicy kiss on his lips. “How was your day at work?” He pulled back to stare at her. Usually all he got was a peck on the cheek. As he returned her ardent kiss, she knew new beginnings were at hand.

  When they came up for air, she watched Alan eye the linen tablecloth and china dishes. “Is tonight a special occasion, or have you finally recognized what a great catch I am?”

  Deborah beamed. “Definitely the latter.”

  She followed him to the guest bathroom as he washed his hands. “Actually, tonight is Erev Purim.”

  He dried his hands on a hand towel. “Totally slipped my mind. What time do we need to be at the Megillah reading?”

  She led him back into the dining room and plopped a yarmulke on his head. “Let me worry about that. All you need to do right now is enjoy the fabulous meal I made you.”

  Alan took a seat. “The beef brisket and carrot tzimmes look delicious, and you drenched the mashed potatoes in margarine, just the way I like it.”

  It was a shame her husband couldn’t smell the full-bodied scent of onions and garlic. Even the mouth-watering smell of cooked carrots, honey, and prunes—the recipe her mom had made her and her sister when they were young—would forever escape his notice. But tonight, she refused to dwell on Alan’s reoccurring sinus infections, or anything else that would destroy the positive vibe they had going on.

  Deborah felt guilty about not cooking for him as she should. In the year since the babies’ passing, she’d been too depressed to prepare more than the bare minimum for holiday and Shabbat celebrations.

  She recited the blessing over the holiday candles. Then she joined her husband in saying the blessings over the wine and challah. As she was about to dive into her food—she hadn’t eaten all day in anticipation of sharing this morning’s news—Alan asked: “No matzo ball soup?”

  Deborah squelched her feeling of annoyance and answered brightly. “I didn’t want us to be late for synagogue.”

  “That’s cool,” he said, digging into his food.

  When they’d almost cleaned their plates, Deborah threw out the gauntlet. “My mom called this morning.”

  Alan raised his fork midair. “Why?”

  “She apologized for separating us from family all these months when we needed them.”

  He put his fork down and stared at her. “What did you say?”

  “I told her I forgive her.”

  “No way! Your mother can’t expect us to pretend like nothing’s happened! Like we’re just one big happy family!”

  Deborah reached across the table to touch his arm. “It is not for us to judge one another.”

  “Don’t give me that shit! What kind of mother cuts herself off from her daughter and son-in-law because she disagrees with a decision they made—a gut-wrenching decision at that?”

  “She didn’t know it would hurt us so badly.”

  Alan threw his crumpled napkin on the table and jumped to his feet. “I’m not into games. Accept your mother back into your life, if you want, but don’t expect me to do the same.”

  Deborah’s heart quickened, despite the increased dosage of antidepressants she’d taken just a few hours ago. “Forget the dishes. I’ll meet you in the car.”

  “Suddenly I’m not feeling celebratory anymore. Go yourself.”

  Her husband stalked from the room.

  Chapter 39

  Shana

  “As my grandmother used to say, ‘You don’t like it, take your business to Walgreens.’”

  Her captor’s joke was unexpected; better that response than pummeling her. Switching gears on her captor was also a distraction from locating, then executing
, his birth father. “It really is freezing back here. I also have to pee.”

  Shana knew she was walking a fine line regarding Daniel’s mood changes; for sure, he was bi-polar like her own grandfather. Where the hell were the police? Had her family even reported her missing?

  She began to hyperventilate.

  “I reset the air, but bathroom break won’t be for another thirty minutes, so hang tight.”

  Her throat was so dry. Shana was finding it difficult to swallow. Had he been lying about his grandma’s house being located near Central Park, she wondered? What if he’d drugged her at the park that first day, and then driven her to a neighboring state? She’d never been to New York before. Except for the Statue of Liberty and Times Square, she had no knowledge of landmarks.

  “Ugh!” Visions of her husband, her daughters, her unborn grandchild, flit through her consciousness. All you need is love, darlin,’ shouted her mother’s voice from beyond.

  Just then, she felt the car swerve, then come to an abrupt stop, causing her roped body to fall to the carpet. “Now what?” said her captor as he yanked open her car door.

  His expression immediately turned to alarm. Shana struggled to follow his movement as he withdrew a thin vial from the glove compartment. “Stay with me. You’re going to be okay.”

  As her throat began to close, she dizzily wondered whether her captor was asking her to remain with him rather than return to her family, or if his words had a different meaning.

  She was beginning to lose consciousness when she suddenly felt a pin prick her arm.

  Shana’s eyes flew open. Attempted to swallow. Swallowed! Attempted to breathe. Breathed! “You saved my life! It’s a miracle!”

  Her captor carefully wrapped the vial in a clean tissue. “Now I know who I inherited my panic disorder from.”

  “But I don’t have…”

  “Figured you’d deny it.”

  Although she’d had a couple of anxiety meltdowns over the last couple of years, this experience had been way different. No use trying to convince Daniel he was mistaken. Instead, she thanked God for keeping her alive. Maybe she’d even start going to temple after a twenty-six-year sabbatical.