Looking Over Your Shoulder

by P.D. Workman

  * * *

  It wasn’t the first time that Ursula had gone to the police station to try to get some help for Abe. It was happening all too often, and she wished that things could just be normal again.

  “I’m worried about him,” Ursula said. "I haven’t heard from him in three days. Something may have happened to him.”

  The police officer at the intake desk studied her, chewing the top of his pen.

  “He’s been missing before,” he stated, recognizing her face.

  Ursula shifted uncomfortably.

  “Yes… he’s disappeared for a day or two before, but it’s been three days, I’ve been trying to reach him.”

  “But you kicked him out, he’s not living with you anymore.”

  “No,” Ursula agreed.

  “And he has no fixed address.”

  “No, not really. Not yet.”

  “What makes you think he’s in any trouble?”

  “He has a phone, but he hasn’t been answering it. He always wants to talk to the kids, so I don’t understand why he wouldn’t answer, if he was okay.”

  The police officer just looked at her.

  “I’m really concerned,” Ursula said. "Aren’t you required to take the report if he’s been missing for more than 24 hours?”

  Grumbling something under his breath, he pulled his chair a little closer to the computer and tapped a few keys.

  “All right,” he said with a sigh. "Name?”

  “Aberahama VanRaemdonck,” Ursula said.

  “Spelling?”

  Ursula spelled it slowly. He tapped a few more keys.

  “Same personal information as last time?” he questioned, his eyes scanning the file.

  “Umm, yes.”

  “No fixed address?”

  “No.”

  “Same phone number?”

  “Yes.”

  “Homeless and schizophrenic?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where was he last seen?”

  Ursula thought through it.

  “At the public library,” Ursula said. She gave him the intersection.

  “What happened that day? Did he seem to be upset about anything?”

  “He was visiting with our kids. Umm, yes, he was upset when we left, because I wouldn’t let him come home, and he wanted to spend more time with them.”

  “What was his state of mind?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Was he… depressed? Angry? Umm… psychotic?”

  Biting her lip, Ursula considered her answer. It wouldn’t do to fly off the handle at him, to get angry. That wouldn’t help Abe. The police officer was only doing his job. Of course he was skeptical. But Ursula had to get past that, to give him the best information that she could to help them to find Abe and make sure he was all right.

  “He was feeling down,” she admitted. “About not being able to come home, or to see the kids for more than just occasional visits. And he was pretty paranoid. I don’t know if he’s taking his meds at all.”

  “How do you think he would react if he was approached by the police?” the officer questioned as he tapped the keys to enter this information.

  “Umm- I think he’d be fine. He thinks that jewel thieves are after him; he sees the police as protectors, not a threat.”

  The cop nodded and continued to type.

  “What places do you think he might go? Friends? Who have you talked to so far?”

  Ursula mentioned some of the places that she knew Abe had been staying at. She told him the friends that she had tried so far. There was a lump in her throat, and her voice broke a little as she tried to give him all of the details. The man pulled a couple of tissues out of the box beside his computer and handed them to her without looking at her face.

  “We’ll do our best,” he reassured her.

  “Even though he’s homeless?”

  “Even though he’s homeless. He’s still a person, and if he’s in danger, we will help him. We’ll track him down. He’s probably around, he just let his cell phone battery die, or he’s been crashing with a friend, or something. Usually there’s nothing to be worried about.”

  “Okay,” Ursula sniffled. "All right.”

  “Does he have a job?”

  “Yes, he’s a consultant, works at several different places. I’ve called them all, he hasn’t been there for a while.”

  “Why don’t you give me the names of the companies he works at, and we can follow up with them too, see if there’s any other leads.”

  Ursula gave him the information.

  A couple more days passed, and the police and Ursula had not been able to turn anything else up. Ursula was getting more and more worried. She didn’t know what to say to the children’s questions any more. Where was Daddy? When were they going to get to see him again? Ursula couldn’t tell them. She couldn’t tell them anything about the future. She was afraid to upset Crispin any further, and possibly cause him more seizures. Juneau was so frail, so thin. Ursula didn’t know how to fix her. Ursula was weighed down by the utter hopelessness of it.

  She talked to the police and the FBI and eventually got them to make the search for Abe public, making press releases and announcing it on the TV, showing photos of Abe and encouraging the public at large to help in tracking him down.

  Ursula’s heart sank every morning that she woke up and remembered that he was missing, that he was out there somewhere, alone, defenseless, homeless, struggling with the demons in his mind. But there was nothing more that she could do for him. She didn’t know if she would see him again or not, but there was nothing that she could do.

  Ursula’s phone rang as she was about to take a couple through the Woodcock home. She silenced it, and wasn’t even going to look at it, but she had a nagging feeling that she shouldn’t ignore any calls while Abe was missing. It could be him, or it could be the police or a lead. She pulled out her phone and looked at the caller ID. It was Dennis.

  “Hello? Dennis?”

  “Ursula, hey. How’s it going?” he said lowly.

  “As well as I can be,” Ursula said dryly. "What’s up?”

  “Abe showed up at work,” Dennis said.

  “He’s there?” Ursula demanded. "He’s okay?”

  “He’s here,” Dennis said, his voice still low. "He’s looking a little rough, but he’s okay.”

  “Did he say where he’s been?”

  “I haven’t asked him any questions. I didn’t want to scare him off.”

  “Right, probably a good idea,” Ursula agreed. “I’ll call the police and let them know that he’s turned up. Is he going to stay there? Can I come and see him?”

  “Looks like he’s going to stick around the day. I don’t think there’s any rush.”

  “Okay. Thanks so much for calling, Dennis. I really appreciate it.”

  “Sure, Urs.”

  Hard though it was, Ursula finished the tour of the Woodcock home, careful not to rush the young couple or to show her anxiety at wanting to get out of there to go see for herself that Abe was okay. As much as she might like to just drop everything and go, she had to remember that she was now the sole breadwinner for the family, and in the foreseeable future. That was not going to change, and Abe was not going to stabilize. Who knows how many more times he would disappear and turn back up at an inopportune time. It was best not to set the precedent of dropping everything, and just continue on with her life the best that she could.

  Nonetheless, as soon as the clients were out of the way and Ursula was alone again, she jumped into her car to go to the airport. She found that she was shaking, and she had to stop for a few minutes, as the tears started unexpectedly to stream down her face. Grabbing a handful of tissues, Ursula tried to stem and mop up the inconvenient flow of tears so that she would be able to drive. She took slow, deep breaths, trying to calm herself down again. Abe was safe. There was nothing to be crying about. She couldn’t go crying every time he was in trouble. Eventually Ursula was calm enough to go o
n. She started the car, and headed for the airport.

  Abe tried to get rid of the policeman as politely as possible. He wanted to get back to his work.

  “I’m fine now,” he insisted. "Everything is okay. My wife just overreacted when I wasn’t available.”

  “You’ve wasted a lot of police resources,” the officer said sternly, “and worried your family. Try to be more responsible and let people know where you are.”

  “Sure,” Abe agreed, not looking at the officer as he worked through his paperwork. "I’ll try to be more considerate.”

  The officer obviously didn’t feel like leaving. But he had asked all of his questions and tied up all of the loose ends, and there was no reason to wait around for Abe to apologize or thank him or give him some sort of satisfaction. So he slowly turned and headed for the door. Coming into the office from the other direction was Ursula. She nearly ran into the officer, apologized, thanked him for his help, and hurried in to talk to Abe. The police officer stalled for a moment, then continued out of the room.

  Ursula was crying again as she hugged Abe. After hugging him tightly and telling him how worried she had been, she pulled back and looked at him.

  He was clean and freshly shaven, and his clothes were free of wrinkles, but as Dennis had said, he looked pretty rough. His face was gaunt and etched with lines that hadn’t been there before. When she had hugged him, he had flinched and pulled back like she had hurt him. He had a cut above his eyebrow that was several days old, but not yet healing.

  “Abe, are you okay? What happened? Where did you go?”

  “I’ve been around,” he said vaguely, looking away from her. “I’m okay. Everything is fine.”

  “It’s not fine. It’s obvious that you’re sick, and hurt. Where have you been?”

  “My cell phone got broken, that’s all. I have a new one. I used a different number, so that they can’t track me so easily. I’ll give it to you.”

  “Is that all?” Ursula questioned, irritated with his irresponsibility and lack of remorse over the grief that he had caused her and the children. “Really?”

  Abe shrugged and nodded. He sat down to continue his paperwork, not looking at her.

  “I’m behind on my work,” he commented. "Been missing too much time lately.”

  “How did you get hurt?” Ursula demanded.

  Abe looked up momentarily. He touched the cut over his eye, remembering it.

  “I ran into a door,” he said. "It was dark. Not a familiar place.”

  “And that’s it? You’re not hurt anywhere else? You look like you haven’t eaten in a week. You’re not taking care of yourself.”

  “They didn’t feed me,” Abe murmured. Suddenly he had changed tactics and was letting her in on the secret. “Only water to drink, once a day,” he said lowly, in a rush, "and I had to beg for that.”

  “Who didn’t feed you?” Ursula frowned. "What are you talking about?”

  “The thieves,” he hissed. “I didn’t tell the police, and you can’t tell them. The jewel thieves were there. They locked me up. I thought they’d kill me. That it was the end.”

  Ursula found herself drawn into his hallucination, believing it for a moment.

  “What? How did you get away?” she questioned.

  “Use a tool. Broke the bonds. While they were away. Ran.”

  Ursula blinked. She knew it wasn’t true. She wanted badly to believe him, to believe that there was a valid reason for his disappearance, but she couldn’t. He had been kidnapped by jewel thieves and escaped? And just shaved and went back to work? It was a hallucination. She could see that he believed it, but she couldn’t buy into it. Things like that didn’t happen. And whoever the jewel thieves had been, they were long gone. They wouldn’t stick around, watching Abe, kidnapping him for heaven’s sake. Why would they kidnap him? Even if it were true that he was on their trail, and that they were worried about it, wouldn’t they kill him? Why would they kidnap him and keep him alive? It didn’t make any sense.

  “Abe,” she said softly, trying to figure out a way to tell him that it was, once again, his imagination. His sick brain playing tricks on him.

  “Urs, I know you don’t believe it. That’s why I didn’t tell the cops. What’s the point? But you know I wouldn’t lie to you.”

  “I don’t think you’re lying, Abe. Just mistaken. Confused.”

  “I’m not,” he said in irritation. He rifled through the papers on the desk. “If I could just remember… I keep thinking there is something I’m missing. Something important is in here,” he looked through them impatiently. “I can solve this Urs, if I just have enough time. But they’re not going to just sit around and wait for me to catch them. I have to figure it out before it is too late.”

  “You can’t believe this, Abe. Can’t you see that it’s not true? It’s just your brain sending you false messages. Like when you lock the door, and you have to go back and check it again, even though you know you locked it and can see that it’s locked. It’s just your brain.”

  “Is this just my brain?” Abe questioned, touching the cut on his forehead. “And this?” he pulled his buttoned-up shirt out of his pants and up past his belly, showing her deep purple and black bruises over his ribs. “And this?” he shook his wrist loose from the cuffs of his shirt to show her chafing around his wrists.

  Ursula looked at Abe in bewilderment.

  “What’s going on?” she demanded. "What happened to you?”

  “I just told you,” he said steadily.

  “What really happened?” Ursula asked.

  Abe threw his hands up in the air.

  “Why would you ask me? I obviously don’t have a clue what really happened.”

  Ursula stared at him in horror, shaking her head and trying to wrap her mind around it. Something had happened to him. Something bad. He obviously wasn’t safe, wherever he was staying. Maybe he’d gotten into a fight at a homeless shelter, and the police had arrested him, putting him in handcuffs. Abe’s busy brain had rewritten the story for him, and now he didn’t know what was real.

  “Can I get you something to eat?” she questioned at last. “You look half-starved.”

  “One good thing about my job,” he said, with a wry smile, “there’s always lots of food around.”

  “Let’s go out for something to eat. I can at least do that for you. Make sure that you’re eating.” Ursula shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. “I can’t have two of you not eating.”

  Abe looked sad.

  “Juneau’s still not eating?

  “No. Mostly bottled water. I’ve gotten her to drink a little of that vitamin water, but… she’s wasting away to nothing.”

  Abe stood back up from his desk and gave her a gentle hug.

  “We’ll brainstorm about Juneau,” he promised. “Let’s go get something.”

  Ursula sniffled.

  “Okay. Where do you want to go?”

  “How would you like a top of the line gourmet airline meal?” he said with a crooked smile.

  Ursula smiled and nodded.

  “I’d love to see you at work,” she agreed.

  “Great. Come one, I’ll take you to the plane.”

  Ursula sat in the big comfy seat on the plane. First class, of course. It was the first time she’d been utterly relaxed in days. In spite of Abe’s bizarre assertions back in the office, he was himself on the plane, calm and confident, moving smoothly from one task to the next. She watched him whip up a gourmet curry dish for her in three minutes, including the time that it took to heat it in the powerful microwave.

  “That’s amazing,” she marveled. "I would never guess that you could cook something like this so quickly. Can we have some of these for at home, too?”

  “Maybe I’ll see if I can bring some product home for testing,” he said with a grin, both of them forgetting for an instant that Abe wasn’t coming home today, or any time soon. It was like they were in their own little bubble, away from the rest of
the world, where everything was normal again.

  “And look at the ingredients,” Abe insisted, pushing a pouch into her hands. “Unprocessed, whole foods. No chemicals, no preservatives, no MSG. Minimal salt and no added sugar; if you want to add salt, you can do it on your tray.”

  He finished preparing her meal and slid it onto the tray in front of her, adding a sprig of parsley with a flourish.

  “Voila, madame. Enjoy!”

  Ursula unwrapped her cutlery and took a forkful. She rolled the curry around in her mouth.

  “Oh, Abe, it’s wonderful. It is so light and sweet though, there’s really no sugar?”

  “No, just what’s in the coconut milk and the mango naturally. Good, eh?”

  “It is,” Ursula agreed. "It’s lovely. It’s amazing that you could just whip it up here right in the plane. That’s an amazing system.”

  “And I could have made it vegetarian for you,” Abe said. "Or given you rice instead of noodles if you preferred them or were gluten free. There’s another sauce that’s lower in natural sugars if you want something more savory or more suitable for a diabetic. All right here, beside you.”

  “This is going to be a hit, it really is,” Ursula asserted. “You’ve done really well, Abe.”

  He nodded.

  “Thanks,” he said, a bit of shy awkwardness returning to his manner. He looked out the window beside Ursula, onto the tarmac, as a luggage cart drove by to load up another plane. They both watched it in silence for a while.

  “This is where you were when it happened?” Ursula questioned.

  “Yes. But I never looked out the window. I was too wrapped up in what I was doing.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t. It would have been really scary.”

  “More scary than this?” Abe questioned. "Trying to stay one step ahead of them? Trying to protect my family and myself from ruthless felons and figure out who it was?”

  “If you’d looked out the window, and could identify someone… they might have even killed you that day, if you’d gone out trying to help or something.”

  Abe opened his mouth to reply, but then startled at the noise of the door opening and footsteps into the cabin. They both turned and looked to see Dennis.

  “Hey ho,” Dennis greeted. “Word has it you’re serving an awesome curry in here. Need another guinea pig?”

  “Have a seat,” Abe invited, motioning. “You want the curry?”

  Dennis sat down and looked at Ursula, who nodded.

  “That’s what I’ve got, and it’s divine. You have to try it.”

  “Dish me up,” Dennis invited expansively.

  He watched Abe work his magic.

  “Sorry to interrupt you guys,” Dennis said with a rueful shrug. "I should probably have left you to have an intimate dinner, but I wanted to see how things were going. And Mike said there was a rumor that the curry was to die for.”

  Abe looked puzzled for a moment, looking at Dennis suspiciously, then he shrugged and continued making Dennis’ curry.

  “You want noodles or rice?”

  “Uh, let’s try the rice. Is it white?”

  “White long-grain jasmine,” Dennis acknowledged. “Chicken or veg?”

  “Chicken.”

  “Mango coconut curry or Thai green curry?”

  “Oh. Uhhh. Mango coconut.”

  Dennis nodded and continued to put it all together.

  “Is the vegetarian made with tofu?” Dennis questioned.

  “Nope. No soy in any of the variations. Chickpeas.”

  “Cool.”

  “Mild or spicy?” Dennis questioned.

  “Let’s give it a bit of a kick.”

  In a couple of minutes, it was on Dennis’ tray. He took a big bite and chewed.

  “Oh Abe. How can you do this? On a plane, no less. Damn! People are going to be flying just to taste the meals.”

  Abe smiled, looking relaxed. Ursula gave him a stern look.

  “Now you need to get yourself something to eat,” she insisted. "You need to keep your strength up.”

  Abe opened another packet and started to make his.

  Juneau got Meggie a quick after-school snack and helped her unpack her backpack to see if she had any homework to do. She looked up at the clock on the wall.

  “Is Crispin home yet?” she questioned. "He’s usually starving.”

  “He’s home. We walked together. He went up to his room,” Meggie advised.

  “Okay. I’m going to go say hi, and get some homework done before supper. You be okay?”

  Meggie nodded.

  “I’m going to watch Ponies,” she said.

  “Okay. Stay out of trouble.”

  Juneau went upstairs and pushed Crispin’s door open slightly, peering around it to see what he was doing. He was sitting in front of his computer with the earphones on, and Juneau turned to leave, then looked back again.

  “Crispin, you okay?” she asked uncertainly.

  He didn’t answer or turn toward her. But there was no music or game sounds leaking from his earphones, and he wasn’t touching the computer mouse or keys. The screen showed just his computer desktop. Crispin’s shoulders were shaking.

  “Crispin? Hey Crispy Critter, are you okay?” Juneau questioned, going into the room and touching him on the shoulder.

  Crispin’s face turned toward her, a picture of anguish. Tears streamed down his face, and he sobbed silently, mouth open. Juneau grabbed him and pulled him to her.

  “Crispin, baby, it’s okay. Everything will be all right, okay? Dad’s okay. Mom will tell us all about it when she gets back home. But he’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

  He shook his head, clinging to her, unable to speak.

  Juneau rubbed his back soothingly.

  “I know, honey. I know it hurts. It’s scary. But that’s just the way it is with Dad. He’s sick. He can’t help it. But he’s okay this time. He’s alright.”

  “But… he’s… not… coming home,” Crispin sobbed.

  “No. But we wouldn’t want him putting us in the trunk again, would we? He’ll still come back home, once he gets fixed up again. He’ll get better.”

  “I don’t think he will,” Crispin disagreed. "He’s never been this bad before.”

  “That doesn’t mean he won’t get better. It’s just taking longer this time. Don’t give up, Cris. We’re still a family. We love you, okay?”

  He nodded.

  “Love you too,” he muttered. He wiped his nose. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay to cry. And it’s okay to ask for help, or just to be held. It’s okay, sweetie.”

  He nodded, clearing his throat and trying to stop crying.

  “I feel like such a baby,” he said. “The other day it was Meggie at school. Now I’m crying worse than her.”

  “We all cry. I do too. And even Mom, sometimes, when she doesn’t think anybody knows.”

  “I wish I could be older, like you,” Crispin said, “and help out more and understand it better. I just feel… so… lost.”

  “You’re not the only one, Cris. I do too.” She stroked his hair. “I don’t think it matters how old you are. You can’t talk yourself out of feeling.”

  “What if-” Crispin started, and then cut himself off, looking guilty.

  “What is it?” she questioned.

  “What if… well… what if I get it?”

  “Get what?” Juneau questioned, confused.

  “Schizophrenia.”

  “Oh! You’re not going to get it, Crispin. Why would you think that?”

  “It can be hereditary,” Crispin pointed out, “and the risk is higher if you have seizures. It’s a warning sign.”

  She looked surprised at this.

  “I didn’t know that,” she said softly.

  Crispin nodded.

  “Did Mom and Dad tell you that?” Juneau questioned.

  “Not on purpose. I’ve heard them talking about it. And I can google.”

  �
�I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to get it. It’s just a possibility.”

  “I could… and if I’m like Dad, I might not get it until I’m older, it will be years before I know that I’m safe. Or maybe never. I’ll always be worried that next year… I might not be here. Or not… the same.”

  “Don’t talk that way. Just be positive. If you’re like Dad, then you’ve got lots of years before you have to worry. Enjoy your time now, don’t spend it all dreading.”

  “Easy to say,” Crispin sighed. “Like you don’t worry.”

  Juneau shrugged sheepishly.

  “I guess I do, a bit,” she agreed.

  “Too much. If you don’t start eating again… then you’ll be the one who’s not here next year.”

  Juneau pressed her lips together.

  “Yes,” she agreed, “but if I eat the wrong thing… I could be gone tomorrow.”

  “You’ve got your needles. You have to enjoy life now, don’t spend it all worrying,” Crispin reminded her.

  “Yeah. I know. It’s just really hard. I can’t control my allergies any more than you can control your seizures. I used to think I could. I used to think that if I was careful, I’d be okay, and I wouldn’t have bad reactions. But that’s not the way it works. No matter how careful you are, you can’t get away from them.”

  “But even if you don’t eat you could have a reaction,” Crispin pointed out. “Something in the air, or on your skin. You never know. Starving won’t stop it.”

  “Yeah,” Juneau said, "I know you’re right. But it’s scary. Terrifying. I want to control it.”

  “You helped me. I’ll help you.”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, Crispy,” she agreed. "We’ll both help each other.

  * * *