by Utt, Kelly
Mrs. Mobley gasped and covered her mouth with one hand when she saw the carnage. She was a nice old lady. I don’t blame her for what happened. My reaction was more intense. It physically hurt me to see my cherished new possessions disrespected like that. If Mom and Dad had taught me anything, it was to appreciate what we had and what we did for each other. Even now, it’s hard for me to describe just how violated I felt. So many questions swirled through my mind, namely, why would someone do this to me? What had I done to deserve this? I was a good kid. I was kind and helpful to others. I had never touched anyone else’s things. It was truly boggling to my seven-year-old mind.
I had to spend the rest of the day at school, wondering who had done the dastardly deed and whether they wanted to do more harm, like beat me up on the playground. Mrs. Mobley gave the class a stern talking to and encouraged the offender to fess up. They never did. Mrs. Mobley wrote a note telling my parents what had happened and attached it to my shirt with a straight pin. Having to walk through the halls after school with a huge note pinned to my shirt only made me feel more upset and embarrassed about the whole situation. I suddenly felt like I had to watch my back like a hawk to avoid being picked on. It was a brand new feeling that’s I’d never experienced before. The kind of feeling that, once you come to know, you never forget.
When I got home that day, backpack-less, and told Mom what had happened, she pulled me close and hugged me tightly without saying a word. She took the pin and paper off my shirt, but didn’t bother to read the note Mrs. Mobley had written. It was a kind gesture, simply holding me like that. Mom didn’t try to rationalize what happened or to scold me for not handling things differently. She held me in that embrace until I moved to end it. She would not let go until I was ready to move on. When I was ready, Mom made me a snack and then we went to the couch and watched Mister Roger’s Neighborhood together. When Dad came home, he hugged me, too. Then he promised me a replacement set of supplies, which he made good on the very next day.
I never cried over that ordeal, although I probably should have. I held it all in. Bottled it up inside. I think I was too shocked by the realization that the world can be cruel and unfair that I didn’t know what else to do but freeze up as I considered the implications. Maybe that’s what it goes back to for me. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t make my legs move the day Dad’s ambulance pulled up to the emergency room bay. And why I couldn’t do more to help Mom as Biscuit lay dying in her arms on the street in front of our house. Maybe something is innately wrong with me. Maybe I failed at some key developmental milestone. I can handle things just fine when they’re at a distance and not about me personally. Maybe that was an asset for the work I did in the Air Force. I don’t know for sure. What I do know is that Mom has never looked down on me for freezing up and becoming overwhelmed during times like these. For all of her faults and quirks, I have to hand it to her. She has always supported me when it counts. She accepts my pain, and she seems to understand how my hurts have affected me. She’s ready and willing to be a shelter for me in any storm.
It’s morning now and I’m waking up groggy. I’m in the king-sized bed at the vacation house, but I don’t remember how I got here. I’m fully dressed, wearing the same clothes I did yesterday. The same ones I was wearing out on the boat. Oh, God. Yesterday. It all comes back in a rush. I frantically look over at the other side of the bed and reach out for her. Ali isn’t here. She’s not with me. She should be with me.
“Liam!” I yell out for my uncle as I try to stand.
My head is pounding. The last thing I remember is being in Phil’s office at the Bi-Mart and looking at the surveillance feed from the parking lot. That means… Oh, God. Ali, the boys, and Marjorie have been gone overnight. Unless they’re here in the house somewhere, they have definitely fallen into harm’s way. They’d never stay out all night like this. Ali and Marjorie wouldn’t even stay out overnight if it were just the two of them, let alone with three young kids. Will needs diapers. And he’ll need to nurse. Ethan and Leo will need food and something to drink. Kids their age can’t go more than a few hours without a snack. Oh, my God.
Terror courses through me. It pulses in my blood. It radiates from my skin. It surrounds and covers me. This is the most frightened I have been in my entire life. I can’t remember anything remotely close to this feeling. Where do I begin? And what did I miss? How did I end up conked out while my family is missing? I should be out there doing something. Anything.
I’m fumbling with my sandals when I hear a knock on my bedroom door.
“What?” I ask, no doubt sounding as bad as I feel.
“George, buddy,” my uncle says. “You up?”
I stumble over to the door and open it hard, nearly ripping it off the hinges.
“What in the hell is going on?” I ask Liam. “How did I get here? Where’s my family?”
Liam faces me and places one hand on each of my shoulders, holding me firmly at arm’s length.
“George,” he begins. “Don’t you remember what happened at Bi-Mart? In Phil’s office?”
I don’t remember, but I try.
“Not really,” I say. “My head…”
“George, buddy,” Liam says again. “Sit down.”
I do as he says, then look up at him, waiting eagerly for an explanation. He sits down beside me, keeping one hand securely on my shoulder as if to anchor me in place. I need anchoring right now.
“We gave you a sedative to help you sleep,” he explains. “We had to.”
“What?” I ask, incredulously.
“You were out of control,” he continues. “You destroyed Phil’s office and were about to seriously injure the man. Roddy and I had to pull you off of him.”
I vaguely remember that now that he’s saying it.
“It was a lot like the day at the animal hospital when you thought Lady didn’t make it, only exponentially worse because this is your wife and children we’re talking about. I don’t blame you one bit,” my uncle says. “But you were in a blind rage. We had to do something. I was worried about you.”
Oh, no. I do remember. Oh, my God.
“It’s coming back to me now,” I say to Liam, my eyes pleading with him to tell me that what I remember isn’t true. “The surveillance tapes.”
“Yes,” George. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” I ask. “You’re… sorry?”
“I don’t know what else to say,” Liam replies.
“So what I remember is true?” I ask, tears beginning to stream down my face. “We saw them in the Odyssey... In the parking lot. And… a truck…”
“Yes,” Liam confirms. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, dammit,” I say loudly, through tears. “Tell me what you know, Liam, or I swear to God…”
Liam looks surprised to see my rage directed at him. But he handles it. He shifts closer to me and moves his arm around to my other shoulder, holding me tightly in his embrace.
“On the surveillance feed, we saw a truck parked in the row behind the Odyssey,” he continues. “Then we saw Marjorie, Ali, and the boys come out of the store with a cart full of groceries, which Ali loaded into the back of the van while Marjorie buckled the boys into their car seats.”
I remember the scene as he’s describing it, but I don’t want it to be real.
Liam continues. “As Ali lowered the liftgate and turned to face the truck behind her, something must have been alarming, because she looked startled. She hurried into the driver’s seat of the van.”
“No…” I plead.
“I’m sorry, buddy,” Liam says again, more slowly this time. He’s gauging my reaction and waiting to see how much I can take. “Ali started up the van. The truck behind her backed up, then went forward, slamming full speed ahead into her bumper.”
“No…” I say again, shaking my head. My body and my mind don’t want to know it. The core of my very being wants to reject this. Somehow, I want it to go away. Just go away. I want
my family.
“Ali didn’t wait for help. She took off, speeding out of the parking lot and south on route twelve out of town,” Liam says. “The truck followed, apparently chasing after her.”
“My God…” I whimper, still shaking my head back and forth.
I remember all of that now. I wonder exactly when they sedated me. I’m angry about that, but I don’t have enough energy to focus on it at the moment. I assume Liam and Roddy wanted had good intentions and sincerely wanted to help me. I don’t have reason to think otherwise.
I suddenly become aware of strange voices in the next room. And of doors opening and shutting.
“Who’s here?” I ask my uncle. “What’s all that noise? What’s happening?”
Liam gives me a squeeze around the shoulders.
“Are they back? Did someone rescue them?” I ask expectantly.
“No, not yet,” he replies. “They’re still… Missing.”
The word sounds hollow coming out of his mouth. He doesn’t want to say it. I can see that it pains him.
“The F.B.I. is here,” he continues. “A traffic cam caught the chase, so the case is being handled on the federal level.”
“Like an abduction?” I ask, my voice weak.
“Well, yes,” my uncle replies somberly. “But that’s a good thing, because the authorities have all the resources they possibly can dedicate to the search. The story aired on the local news this morning. Volunteers are already out canvassing the wooded area near where the Odyssey was last seen.”
Upon hearing this, a chill runs up and down my spine. I’m reminded of the shared dream Ethan and I had. I was on a road in a wooded area, frantically looking for Ali. My sweet boy was nearby and heard me calling out for his mom while he was calling out for me, but I couldn’t hear him. It’s both frightening and encouraging at the same time. Maybe that means I’ll find them. Maybe they’ll be close to where I’m searching.
“Liam!” I exclaim. “I have to go search the wooded area. I think I can find them.”
I haven’t told Liam about either dream, but I don’t have time to do so now. I’ve got to get out there.
“I knew you’d say that, buddy,” Liam says. “But the F.B.I. wants to interview you first. They’re not going to let you go until they’re done with you.”
I know he’s right. I know enough to understand how this works. But I want desperately to get out there.
“George?” Liam asks. I’m too immersed in my own thoughts to really hear him. “George?” he asks again, louder.
“Yeah, what is it?” I reply.
“There’s someone else here who wants to see you.”
I nod my head, not paying much attention. I’m busy thinking through the details of my dream and trying to garner any clues that might help us find them. I barely notice as Liam walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Less than a minute later, I hear a soft knock.
“Yes?” I say, expecting to see some too-eager F.B.I. agent who wants to interrogate me.
I look up as the door begins to open. To my great surprise, my mom walks in.
“Mom?” I say, puzzled, tilting my head to one side. “What on Earth are you doing here?”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she walks over to where I’m sitting on the bed and takes my head into her hands.
“How… ?” I begin to ask as I lean in to her.
We stay like that for what feels like a long while, Mom cradling my head and me leaning into her. Tears flow down my face so heavily it feels like someone turned on a water spout.
I hadn’t thought about Mom coming to be here with me. I’m kind of surprised she came, actually. The plane ticket must have been expensive on such short notice. I guess coming to be with me was worth it to her. Worth spending some money on. I’m genuinely touched. I need my mom right now more than ever.
“I got on a plane as soon as I heard,” Mom finally says. “We arrived in Reno a few hours ago.”
“Wait,” I say. “We?”
Mom takes a long, deep breath. She looks haggard. Tired from traveling overnight, no doubt. She’s probably done some crying, too. These are her grandchildren who are missing. And Mom loves Ali dearly, like she’s her own daughter rather than just a daughter-in-law.
“Look, George,” she begins. “There’s no easy way to tell you this. I’ve been apprehensive about doing so, but it’s time.”
“Okay,” I say.
Mom takes another deep breath. I can tell this is hard for her.
“Is this about your gentleman friend?” I ask, using her words. Boyfriend seems like a strange word to use for someone in Mom’s age range. It sounds so juvenile.
“Yes,” she says. “That’s right. He came with me. I asked him to. I needed the support, and I thought he might be of some help.”
Interesting that she thinks he might be of some help. I wonder if he has a law enforcement background. Would Mom even go for that type? It’s hard to imagine her with anyone but Dad. I’m happy for her though.
“Well, introduce me,” I say. “Is he out there? In the living room?”
“He is,” she answers. “There are agents out there also. Do you feel ready for all of that at once?”
I don’t know if I’m ready for anything I have to face today, but I might as well get started. I’m anxious to get out there and help look for my family. For some reason, it feels like I can find them if I get out there. Intellectually, I know that the authorities are better equipped to find them than I am. I had some introductory search and rescue training in the Air Force, but I don’t feel qualified to do much more than the basics. Besides, it’s probably much like how doctors aren’t allowed to operate on their own family members. They’re too close to be objective if tough decisions need to be made. I fully expect to encounter resistance from investigators once I do get out there to look for my family. It may take some creative maneuvering on my part to skirt past them.
“I guess I have to be ready,” I say.
My head is still pounding from whatever they gave me last night. I need to get to the kitchen for a glass of water. Hopefully, someone out there has pain medication I can take.
I wonder how Roddy is doing. Assuming he wasn’t sedated, I doubt he’s slept all night. He must be beside himself by now. I hope Liam is taking good care of my father-in-law, too. We all need each other right now. It’s time to be one big family and to share the load.
As I stand up, I notice that the sunlight coming in from the bedroom windows seems weak today.
“Has it been raining?” I ask Mom.
“Yes, dear,” she says. “Liam tells me a thunderstorm came in last evening.”
“Making the roads slick,” I say.
“Yes,” she replies as we walk out of the bedroom together.
“Maybe Ali’s van slid off the road and blew a tire,” I suggest. “Maybe they’re okay, just waiting for someone to find them.”
I want to be hopeful. If I don’t hold out hope that my family will be found safe, I’m not sure where that leaves me. Mom doesn’t respond to my theory though. She knows better.
I follow my mom down the hallway to the living room. I glance around the room and count six F.B.I. agents, plus Taye. He’s talking with a short blonde woman in one corner of the room. It seems like they know each other, perhaps from his time at the Bureau. Taye stops and smiles sympathetically when he sees me. I nod back and do my best to smile a little. I don’t want people to pity me. Especially not my friends.
Mom turns the corner into the kitchen, so I follow her that direction, too. Liam is standing near the doorway, leaning back against the counter like Dad used to do. It strikes me that he looks even more like his brother in that pose. The same as he looked more like Dad in the lake yesterday when his hair was wet. I wonder if he realizes it.
“Hey, Liam,” I say as I turn the corner into the kitchen behind Mom. “Do you have any pain meds? My head is killing me.”
I stumble along, think
ing about that glass of water, which will be needed to wash down the pain meds. When I get far enough into the room to see everyone who’s there, my jaw drops. I freeze in place, too shocked to move right away, let alone say anything.
I’ve never spent much time thinking about who Mom might like to date if she were to decide to date again. She and Dad met when they were both in their twenties. After Dad died and the years went by without her dating anyone new, I guess I got used to Mom being single. When I was a teenager, she seemed happy with her life as a single mom. Then, when I went away to college, she seemed happy spending time with Grandma and John Wendell as they got older and needed more and more of her help. In the last few years, before John Wendell died, most of Mom’s time was spent caring for her dad. It was clear to me that she enjoyed their time together. She knew it would be relatively short-lived, so she wanted to make the most of it. I often envied her getting to spend time with my grandfather like that. John Wendell was a wonderful man. To be in his presence was something special. I sure wish he had been able to stick around longer after we moved to Ithaca. And I sure wish he could be here now to help me through this. It doesn’t seem fair that I have to handle something like this without my grandfather. Or my dad.
I stand in the doorway of the kitchen for a minute, staring, before I’m able to find words. Mom is leaning against her gentleman friend, who is none other than Dr. Joseph Epstein. He has one arm around my mother. To his credit, I guess, is the fact that he looks almost as nervous as she does.
"Oh," I finally say, genuinely surprised. "That figures."
"Easy, George," Liam says.
I ball one hand up into a fist put it in front of my mouth as I bite my lip hard, trying not to say something I'll regret. My mind races. I work to process this new information, but it's not making a lot of sense. Of all the people in the world. Hell, of all the people in Ithaca, why Dr. Epstein?