I stared at the reflection of my eyes in the mirror wishing I could repair the mascara that had dribbled down my cheek. Realizing there was no hope, I wiped it off completely. The dark brown eyes staring back at me would never have light in them instead of that trademark blankness. Not remembering much of my childhood always made me feel so alone; no siblings, no parents, only newspaper clippings. So not engaging with life had become my comfort. My protection. When too much personal interaction started, that was my cue to exit the situation. That’s how I had come to Whistler.
I heard laughing behind me and turned to see two bubbly ski bunnies bundled in cashmere coming through the door, obviously enjoying the evening. I tried not to roll my eyes and just flashed them a smile. I grabbed the dangling paper towel, did one last wipe of my cheeks, and left the restroom.
The pub was really hustling now. I could hear the clanking of beer mugs and the chatter an octave higher. Buckets of beer, the nightly special, were parading from one table to the next like a revolving door. The lighting went down a shade, and the stone fireplace in the far corner began roaring right on time. I saw the newest group sitting in my section and quickly went over to take their drink order. As I wrote down the drink names being rattled off, I cautiously glanced at the couple I had left so feverishly and noticed my coworker Jen had graciously removed the tray and placed the third drink on a coaster in front of the empty chair. There was still no one sitting there. I was secretly relieved. I didn’t need another perfect human adding to the complexity of my emotional meltdown. I somehow knew I wasn’t coming down with the flu. There was something about those people that lured me in.
“Miss,” I heard a man at another table shout, “can we add a starter of poutine to our order?”
“Of course! I’ll put that right in.” My smile returned to my face, I took a deep breath and continued on with my busy night. I was nothing if not a creature of habit.
As I was entering the poutine order into the computer, a wave of ice-cold electrifying air penetrated me to my core. It was as if my bones would shatter with the slightest movement. I looked over at the front entrance expecting it to be open, but it wasn’t. I quickly looked around to gauge everyone else’s reaction, knowing I couldn’t trust my own with my sleep deprivation. Nobody seemed to notice. Why was I the only one feeling like an electrocuted ice-cube? Then, right before me, I saw the third person sitting at my favorite table. He had arrived. I didn’t know how he got there, and I didn’t even care. I stiffened while taking him in, and I knew he was the one throwing off the jolts of electricity. The couple was looking at me again, but not the newcomer. It was as if they were evaluating me, my reaction. Silly as it seemed, that’s what they had to be doing. But for what reason?
From behind, I could tell that the new guy was really well-dressed. He sat so still, almost like a statue. It struck me kind of funny, but in a good way. He, too, had golden brown hair. His looked less than perfect, a little more disheveled than his friends or relatives or whoever was with him at the table. I liked it. There was a blowzy, rugged look about him. If he looked half as good as he did from the back, I couldn’t wait to see him from the front. Not that I had a shot, but at least, I could admire.
Promising myself that I wouldn’t again lose my cool, I let the excitement ripple through me at the thought of getting to meet him. I knew what I was feeling was in my head. There was no way other people could make you feel this way.
I spun around and quickly marched to the bar. As I waited for the next order to come up, I excitedly embraced this new feeling of energy and exhilaration that was beginning to creep up on me.
“Hey, Ana,” the bartender spoke, interrupting my thoughts, “Order’s up.”
“Thanks, Ben.” I quickly grabbed the gravy and cheese covered fries otherwise known as poutine, and trudged over to the table to drop it off so I could mosey over to my object of fascination.
“Is there anything else you need or are you all set?” I asked the poutine eaters, unable to hide my grin. They nodded their heads and off I went.
Finally, I was about to arrive at the table of life. The euphoria was beginning to rise as I saw a glow radiating from the table. Prismatic colors were dancing off the walls around them. Recognizing another side effect of my sleep deprivation, hallucinations, I kept moving toward them. I had to meet the new guy. It was like a magnet pulling me over to him. I was certain that the others at his table noticed, but I didn’t even care. I went to the bar, grabbed some silverware as an excuse, and walked to their table.
“Is there anything else I can get right now for you guys or are you doing ok?”
When the newcomer looked up at me for the first time, my heart began racing. He had the same hypnotizing eyes as the others. Only that was merely the beginning. His skin was an exquisite shade of ivory, showing slightly that he had missed a day of shaving. His features were so striking that they almost matched his startling eyes, which were outlined with such thick lashes that it made them stand out even more than the other two at the table. He had a familiarity about him that I couldn’t place. Secretly wondering if he could have been in one of my dreams, I did my best to keep at bay the foolishness that was creeping in at such a preposterous notion. I wanted to clear the room and sit in front of him and do nothing but literally stare at the exquisite being in front of me.
I glanced at the couple to get my mind elsewhere only that didn’t work out so well. I still felt the charge. However, this time I was certain it was coming directly from him. He continued to gaze at me when suddenly I realized that he was talking. His lips were moving, but I had no idea what he was saying. His voice was the most soothing and comforting sound, like a song. I had to get control of myself! This was not the Ana I had grown to know and love. I should be staring coldly at him, barely giving him the time of day.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, dragging strength from an unknown place within, “I need you to repeat what you said.”
I could feel myself start to blush and went with it. I obviously couldn’t be in control of myself around these people and gave up. It’s not like I would ever see them again. Plus, I wasn’t known for being the most eloquent person anyway.
“Hey, no sweat. We were hoping for a pitcher of Whistler Ale and three glasses.” He smiled at me as if he were half relieved—as if he were in on a secret I wasn’t privy to. I did my best to try to place him from my dreams or around Whistler but fell flat. I was certain I recognized excitement in his voice, but that didn’t make any sense either. Beer wasn’t that exciting, and I surely wasn’t either. It must have to do with whatever they were speaking about before I arrived at their table, just an interrupted conversation I had wandered into.
“Sounds good. I’ll bring those right out.” I spun around and went to the bar, excited by this new communication and secretly hoping that they would be at the restaurant during my entire shift.
“Mom!” I hollered more for my benefit than hers.
I wasn’t in earshot yet, but I loved the way my voice carried into the wind off the sea. The constant sloshing of the waves guided me to the rocky beach where my mom was collecting her thoughts and anything else that might catch her fancy. It was a pleasant night with only the moon’s warm glow lighting my way on the very uneven path that weaved through the overgrown blackberries and tall beach grass. Doing my best to dodge the prick of the thorns, I carefully managed to stay on the trail. I didn’t need to be all scarred up for my upcoming celebrations.
This little stretch of beach was hard to get to and rarely frequented by anyone, which was why we loved it. The beach wasn’t what most people pictured when they thought of a beach. The beaches along Washington’s coast, more often than not, had tiny rocks and pebbles in place of sand and many boulders and downed logs that made for awfully fine seating, not places to spread out on a beach towel and soak up the rays.
The makeshift trail finally ended, allowing me to spot my mom’s pile of things. I hoped she was ready to leave. It was get
ting a little chilly, and I hadn’t prepared to be here long. We had a crockpot full of chili waiting for us both, but she wanted me to meet her here at our special spot, so she could tell me something. I had no idea what it was that she wanted to tell me, but since so much was going on in my life right now it could be about anything. I just graduated from high school. My eighteenth birthday was almost here. Our huge summer solstice celebration, Litha was fast approaching, along with the big event, my acceptance into the Witch Avenue Coven on the same day.
“Mom?” I yelled, as I trudged my way over to her bag, looking around the empty beach.
Only the crashing of waves answered.
I didn’t see her anywhere.
“Mom?” I tried again, batting down the worry that wanted to make its way into my consciousness.
Realizing my voice was no match for the roar of the waves, I started walking toward one of the larger boulders, in case she was sitting where I just couldn’t see her. The pebbles were loose, creating an extra treacherous journey since I was only in flip-flops. Poor planning on my part, but I didn’t think that I’d have to hunt her down. She could be sidetracked so easily.
Finally making it to the mammoth piece of black rock, I became annoyed when I saw she wasn’t there. I wasn’t in any way prepared to be marching up and down the beach looking for her. I grabbed my cellphone out of my pocket and dialed her number as I went back toward her pile of things to sit. Maybe I should stay put, and she’d return soon enough. As the phone rang on my end, I got closer to my mom’s pile and heard her bag ringing. Darn! She didn’t take it with her—odd. That was always a rule of hers when hiking or at the beach. We carried our phones with us at all times.
I squatted down to see what she brought with her, hoping an item might lead me in the right direction to find her. If she were gathering plants, then I’d know better where to go. I opened up her bag and panic set in immediately. The shirt she was wearing when she left our house was stuffed in her bag, wrapped around the shoes she was wearing. This made no sense. Her wallet and jewelry were in this bag. She wouldn’t just leave all this stuff for a stranger to steal. Something was wrong. Jumping up, the insides of the bag dispersed onto the beach, but I didn’t care.
“Mom!” I screamed, kicking off my flip-flops so that I could run up the hill closest to me.
Reaching the top of the hill, I scanned the grassy area quickly seeing nothing. Spinning around, I looked back toward the rocky beach. From this vantage point, I was able to see everything and nothing. My heart started pounding as I began dialing 9-1-1.
“911, what is your emergency?” The operator answered.
“My mom. She’s missing,” I cried into the phone, dread spreading everywhere.
“Calm down, ma’am. Where are you located?”
Calm down? I’m not hyper, just scared!
“I’m at the beach just off of Snoqualmie Avenue, down the trail,” I replied
“Is your mother in the water? How long has she been missing?”
“I don’t know!” I screamed into the phone. “Please just send help.”
Okay, now I’m panicking! I can’t calm down. My mom isn’t where she’s supposed to be.
“Ma’am, help is on the way. What is your name?”
“Triss,” I replied, as I ran back down the hill to search the beach or the water, or anywhere but where I was.
Could my mom be in the water? I didn’t even think of that. She wouldn’t be in the water, would she?
“And what is your mother’s name?” the operator asked blandly.
“Veronica Spires,” my voice panted with the exertion.
“Where are they? When will they get here? She needs help!”
I reached the edge of the water. The waves were lapping against my bare feet. Looking out toward the sea, I saw nothing but water and rocks illuminated by the moon’s light. There was no way she would be out there. She never went into the water without someone with her. Oh, my God, where could she be?
The police sirens, off in the distance, were becoming louder by the second. Help was on the way but not nearly soon enough.
“Veronica! Mom! Veronica!” I kept hollering. “Where are you?”
“Ma’am, help has arrived. They’re making their way down the trail. I’m going to stay on the phone until they reach you.”
My body crumpled. Falling on my knees, the tears began pouring down my face. This couldn’t be happening. I turned off my phone. The police were almost to the beach, and I didn’t need the operator to hear my cries. The police chatter of CB radios began rolling through the air mixed with the barks of the K-9 units.
This was a nightmare. There was no way this could be happening. My eyes darted back to the hilltop that I had just left. A man was standing on the hill, watching me, with the darkness working in his favor.
“Hey,” I yelled, looking at him, trying to see any sort of distinguishing features. He froze in place.
I jumped back to my feet, with my jeans soaked from where I had been sitting. I started running up to the hill, and the stranger took off.
“Miss!” a policeman yelled.
“Someone was watching me!” I cried, not stopping my run. “They might have my mom!”
I reached the top of the hill in a flash, and there was no one to be seen.
A policeman came up right behind me.
“Are you, Triss?” His voice was gentle, probably used to dealing with lunatics, not sure which way they were headed in any given situation. “I’m Officer White.”
“Yes, my mom. She’s not here.” The tears started again. “I was supposed to meet her and all that’s here are her things. I can’t find her. Clothes, wallet, jewelry are all that’s here.” I took a deep breath. “Then there was a guy, I think staring at me.”
“Where at?” he asked immediately.
“Right here,” I replied. “He was standing right here. I think it was a guy. That’s why I came this way. It’s so dark it’s hard to tell. I was sitting on the beach right before you got here and noticed the person.”
“Where are your mother’s things, Triss?” he asked, scanning the area and coming up with the same thing as me, nothing. There was no one here.
I pointed over to the beach, completely defeated.
He nodded and looked briefly at the ground for any sign of tracks besides mine; he then turned to the officers at the base of the hill and signaled for them to wait.
We walked back down the hill, and Officer White explained to the others the situation. I had no idea how he got so much from my few sentences. He pointed at the two officers who were in control of the German shepherds, and he motioned for me to come with them to where my mom’s belongings had been dumped by my carelessness.
“Triss, we are going to allow our K-9 members, Sunny and Brandy, to smell some of your mother’s items, okay?” Officer White asked, looking intensely into my eyes. He had to be well over six feet tall and commanded the attention of anyone who looked in his direction.
All I could do was nod. It felt like if I even opened my mouth to breathe, I would break down again.
One of the female officers, who had her hair pulled back in a severe ponytail, came over to me and touched my shoulder softly. She quieted her chattering CB on her belt.
“Is there someone we can call for you?” she asked.
“My aunt,” I muttered, staring off over the darkened sound again, my eyes filling with tears.
One of the other female officers gave commands to Sunny and Brandy and off they went in the direction of the hill. The very same hill I had just come from with Officer White. They were racing off into the distance with the humans following right behind. My mom had been in that area. The dogs caught her scent.
It seemed like hours, but Aunt Vieta finally arrived. Her eyes wide with horror from the scene she witnessed in the parking lot. I couldn’t even begin to count how many police and search and rescue arrived. There were divers already out in the ocean, and everywhere I turned
, there was activity.
I had shutdown. I was merely operating on autopilot. Aunt Vieta started running toward me and scooped me into her arms.
“We’ll find her, Triss. We’ll find her,” she kept mumbling into my ear, but it did little to comfort me.
“I know we will,” I nodded in agreement.
She released me and stood back looking at me.
“Here, I thought you might be freezing.” She shoved a coat into my arms that she had tied around her waist.
“Officer White’s over there,” I said, pointing toward his direction. He was busy getting updates from the teams that had spread in various directions. “He’d be the best person to fill you in. I don’t think I could.”
I appreciated my aunt’s presence, but I would rather just sit on the beach listening to everyone’s updates, hoping I would find something out that would bring my mom back immediately. Instead, I was bombarded with statistics about the longer the victim was missing how exponentially the odds of finding them decreased. I doubt that was for me to hear, but I did. And those words would forever haunt me.
“The waters are getting a little rough. We’ll start again in the morning,” were the first of many sentences that etched a place in my mind, creating a level of despair I didn’t think possible.
The Cessna 180 engine rumbled through the small six-seat aircraft cabin, but unfortunately it did little to block out the words of the other passengers. I glared at the back of the Captain who was lucky enough to be wearing a headset.
“I’d love to see what’s under her jacket.” I heard the guy behind me say to no one in particular.
“I’ll second that, and I bet we’ll get the chance,” another one said.
The gnawing in my stomach only grew with every passing minute, but there was nothing I could do. I was stuck in a plane where I could literally touch the pilot. I didn’t need to start something that I couldn’t finish and have the plane crash because I couldn’t handle a little heckling.
Beyond Control Page 27