Breaking Down Barriers

by Jean Martino

  Cindy went quiet, making Linda think she had to be the worst mother in the world to hurt her daughter like that. Perhaps, she thought, she should cancel the whole thing, stay there and put up with the loneliness so she could be there for Cindy when she needed her; but something inside her rebelled at the thought. Cindy had Michael now. As Jessica said, she had to let go. Cindy would just have to accept that.

  Michael had gone to the men’s room and Linda and Cindy sat quietly not speaking. Then suddenly Cindy said, “When are you leaving?”

  “In two weeks,” Linda said.

  “And what about the house while you’re away. Who’s going to look after it?”

  Linda felt relieved that at least Cindy was talking about it. “I’m going to store my personal things and rent it out furnished. I was hoping, if I gave you Power of Attorney, you could take care of things in my absence. But of course if it would be too much for you then I can make other arrangements.”

  “No,” said Cindy. “I can do it.” She smiled weakly at her mother. “I’m sorry, Mom, I guess I wasn’t thinking how it must feel for you living there alone now. I think it’s a great idea for you to visit Aunt Jessica and Uncle Bill. I will miss you like crazy, but a year will go fast.”

  Linda let out a sigh of relief. “Of course it will,” she said, fighting back her emotions. “And Jessica told me your cousin, Emma, has a computer she left at the house when she went interstate to university, so I’ll go on the internet and we can email each other every day if we want, or call.”

  Cindy burst out laughing. “Mom, you don’t even know how to use a computer.”

  “I’m not too old to learn a few tricks,” laughed Linda.

  At that moment they were suddenly surrounded by waiters singing “Happy Birthday” as Michael walked back holding a birthday cake with forty eight lit candles.

  Cindy reached for her mother’s hand and smiled. “Happy Birthday, Mom,” she said. “I love you.”

  * *

  Adelaide…June 15, 2003:

  When the phone rang, Linda’s eyes flew open, the pain in her neck, from having fallen asleep on the couch in an awkward position, causing her to groan aloud. She glanced quickly at the clock as she picked up the phone and saw it was eight am already. “Hello,” she said quickly, hoping and praying it was Cindy or Michael.

  “Mrs. Rossi?”

  “Yes,” she said, recognizing the Newport Beach detective’s voice and coming alert in an instant.

  “This is Detective Grant from the Newport Beach Police Department. We went by and checked your daughter and son-in-law’s house,” he said. “Everything looked normal, no signs of a break in. We spoke to a neighbor who said he had seen Mr. and Mrs. Brampton packing suitcases into their car and leaving early in the morning a few days ago. He said they were a private couple and he didn’t know them too well but they always waved as they passed in their cars. He thought they were going off on a trip somewhere.”

  “But my daughter was supposed to fly here for a visit,” Linda insisted. “They would have told me if their plans had changed.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much, ma’am. I’m sure they will call you. But perhaps you could give us their car registration number so we can check it out too.”

  “I don’t know it,” said Linda. “All I know is from a photo they sent me. It’s white, a Camaro sedan. At least that’s Michael’s car, and Cindy drives a yellow Ford. But surely you could find that out by looking their names up on the DMV.”

  “Of course,” he said. “If we find out anything we’ll get back to you for sure.”

  Linda immediately called Geoff and Carmel Brampton and updated them on what she had done. “I wish I had better news,” she said, knowing how worried they had to be too.

  “We’ve contacted a couple of Michael’s friends we knew who live in California also,” said Geoff. “Neither of them knows anything about Michael taking off for two weeks but promised to call if they found anything out. We’ll keep trying and call you if we learn anything.”

  Promising to do the same, Linda hung up then showered and dressed. She was perking coffee when Jessica walked through the back door carrying a plate with freshly baked apple muffins on it.

  “I’ll have a cup of that,” she said, placing the plate on the kitchen table. “Any news on Cindy and Michael yet?”

  Linda told her what had transpired with the police as she set the table. “I can’t believe Cindy and Michael would just go off on a trip without telling me,” she said, carrying the coffee percolator over to the table and filling their two mugs. “I know they wouldn’t do that to me.”

  She sat down, her eyes clouded with concern. “I feel like I’m being punished for not returning to California after my first year here,” she said. She should have gone back there after her first year here, but she had liked living here, the peace and quiet after the fast pace of Los Angeles and being near Jessica had made her forget her loneliness at losing Vito.

  “That’s nonsense,” said Jessica, lifting one of the muffins onto Linda’s plate then one onto her own. “You’ve done nothing wrong I assure you. It’s your life and you had every right to do what you felt was best for you. Have the immigration department gotten back to you yet on your application for permanent residency?”

  Linda shook her head, staring at the muffin; not wanting to eat anything but knowing if she didn’t Jessica would feel hurt after going to all that trouble baking them for her. Cutting the muffin in half she picked one side up. “They told me last time I called that the temporary visa they issued me was enough for now. I think it’s crazy anyway that I have to apply for a visa to live here when I was born here.”

  “One day they’ll change that stupid law I hope,” said Jessica. “They should allow you to maintain citizenship in the country of your birth even if you do become naturalized in another. Oh well, that’s government stupidity for you. So what are you going to do now? About Cindy I mean.”

  Placing the half eaten muffin back on the plate, Linda sighed. “I don’t know. The police officer said he would call back if he found out anything more. Now I have to wait till tonight and see if Scott can suggest anything.”

  After Jessica had left, Linda walked outside, still holding her coffee mug as she inhaled the fresh clean air. Her bike was parked under the patio, covered by a canvas and she would have loved to get on it and go riding through the hills and forget everything else that was pulling her down. But she couldn’t do anything right now until something was resolved on where Cindy and Michael had disappeared to. Her life was on hold for now, even her early morning jaunts with the Hillsborough walking club that saw her getting up at dawn every morning and trekking off into the bush with a group of other nature lovers, had become stalled. She felt trapped in some horrible time warp, unable to break free, and the worst part was she had now become totally dependent on others to help her find her daughter.

  Returning inside she stopped at her desk, sitting down in front of her computer and staring at the blank screen. Her only link now with LA was Cindy, and her house. She found it hard to believe that the house she had been obsessed with for twenty eight years no longer felt like home to her. She knew now she could never go back to it. Her life had moved on and she had to move with it. But she couldn’t sell it either. It was Vito and her legacy to Cindy and up to Cindy now to make that decision, not her. She had planned on transferring it free and clear to Cindy when she arrived here for her visit. She had hoped Cindy and Michael would want to live in it, but now with that magnificent home they bought in Newport Beach just after she had left to return to Australia, she could no longer be sure. But that was their decision, not hers.

  She clicked on the AOL button again, hoping to find an email from Cindy, finding only junk mail; sending more emails to Cindy to try to reach her, pleading with her to call her or write.

  By evening she felt numb with worry. She glanced at the clock, seeing it was almost 11:00 pm. Scott would be coming online soon and looking for
her. And there was always the chance Cindy had finally sent her an email. She turned the computer on again and logged on to the internet. When it opened, she went cold all over seeing all the returned emails she had written to Cindy that day showing as being undeliverable. My God! she thought, staring at them in shock. Suddenly the horror of what was happening struck her full blast. Her last contact with Cindy had been severed. She couldn’t even write to her on the internet now.

  Logging off quickly, she called Jessica. “I don’t know what’s happening,” she cried to Jessica after explaining about the returned emails.

  “Can you call AOL in California and ask them to check for you? Jessica asked.

  “She’s not on AOL,” said Linda. “And even if she was they wouldn’t be able to help. Jessica, I’m going crazy with worry. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

  “Linda, you need to talk to Scott about it. He may be able to help somehow.”

  “I’d better log back on,” said Linda. “Scott will be on soon. I’ll see what he thinks and call you tomorrow.”

  After she hung up, Linda logged back on again, feeling less frantic and forcing herself to stay calm. Somehow it helped to be online, as though somewhere Cindy would know she was there in cyberspace trying to reach her. She stared at the Love at AOL advertisement flashing on top of her mailbox. It was on there she had found Scott a year ago, or rather he had found her from the Personal she had written on the spur of the moment one night when she’d been feeling particularly lonely and bored. She had almost deleted it when the rush of emails from men all around the world had flooded her AOL mailbox, not liking much about any of them and wondering why she had even bothered.

  When Scott’s email had flown in she had felt a sudden rush of interest. Something about it had tweaked her curiosity, perhaps his living in California, or having a son living in Newport Beach too, or that he was an outdoor person like her. She didn’t know but for a long time she had stared at his photo feeling drawn to him, and then on the spur of the moment she hit the write email button and sent him a reply. He had answered promptly by email and soon they were also type-talking on Instant Messenger, graduating to voice talk, each buying headphones with microphones attached, and then they bought web cams so they could see each other on the computer screen as they talked.

  She didn’t understand how it had happened but he had now become a very important part of her life, even though they had never met. Something had connected between them that she could never explain in a million years. Her biggest concern was that one day he might meet some woman in real life he’d rather be with than her on the internet. She tried to shut it out of her mind, not liking the sinking feeling it gave her in the pit of her stomach.

  It was almost 11:40 pm in Adelaide which would make it 7:10 am in California that same morning and Scott had still not come online. He was always online by now if he was coming on, she thought nervously, checking the clock in the screen. Perhaps he was too busy to talk with her right now. She couldn’t log off and try calling him on her land line phone either. She only had the one phone line and it was hooked up to the computer. If she logged off and he came on and couldn’t find her he would think she was too busy too and log off again. She couldn’t take that chance. She desperately needed to talk with him tonight. She had to wait. She had no other choice. She sat watching the minutes tick by, feeling more alone now than she had ever felt in her life before.

  CHAPTER 3

  It was almost midnight when the video screen suddenly opened and she saw Scott’s familiar face smiling back at her.

  “Hi, babe” he said. “Are you and Cindy enjoying your visit?”

  She gulped quickly, trying to swallow the anger that had been building up over the last half hour waiting for him. But she lost it. Her voice was shaking so bad she could hardly speak clearly. “No!” she cried. “She didn’t get here, Scott. She wasn’t on the plane and I can’t get a hold of her or Michael on their phones. I don’t know where they are and I’m going crazy. They’ve... they’ve just disappeared and---”

  “Whoa!” he said. “Start from the beginning and tell me what happened.”

  She nodded, took a deep breath and told him everything from start to finish. When she had finished she stared numbly at Scott on the computer screen. “I don’t know what to do anymore,” she said breathlessly, feeling her heart banging in her chest. “Scott, can you suggest anything? I’ve exhausted everything I could think to do. The police in Newport Beach haven’t been able to help either.”

  “The first thing I want you to do,” he said in a firm voice, “is stop thinking the worst. Okay?”

  She nodded. “Okay,” she said, trying to keep her voice from breaking.

  “As far as the internet provider, I doubt even if you could remember who they were they could help. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We need to take this one step at a time. For now give me Cindy and Michael’s home address. I can get their car registration numbers through the police department up here so I’ll check all the hospitals and accident reports and call you back.”

  She gave him the information she had and said, “I think I should fly over there.”

  “Let me check around first. I’ll call you back first thing tomorrow your morning. So please, babe, try to get some sleep and stop worrying. I know it’s hard but your worrying won’t help matters. Take a sleeping pill and try to think positive.”

  It was 1:00 am before she logged off and she was tired but not sleepy. How could she sleep not knowing if her child was alright or not? But Scott was right. Getting herself all tied up in knots wasn’t helping her think straight and she had to think and try to figure out what to do next. Heading for the bathroom, she took one of the sleeping pills she had gotten from her doctor a year ago, seeing the use by date was past but not caring.

  * *

  Adelaide…Monday June 16:

  Early the next morning the phone woke her from a drugged sleep. Struggling out of bed she picked it up and said a sleepy, “hello.”

  “Linda, this is Jessica. Have you heard anything more about Cindy?”

  Linda came awake with a jolt, memories of last night flooding her brain. “Oh God, no! I talked to Scott last night and he said he would do some checking and call me back.”

  “What did he say about the emails being returned?”

  “He didn’t say much really. I couldn’t remember who Cindy’s internet provider was,” said Linda. “I don’t even remember if Cindy ever told me. Emails don’t always have the internet provider name in them like AOL does. Cindy’s email address never did anyway. It was a hotmail email account but didn’t state the internet provider’s name. But he’s going to check for accident reports and will call me back this morning.”

  “I’ll let you go then in case he’s trying right now,” said Jessica. “Try to stay calm, Linda. I know it’s hard, but I know Cindy will somehow contact you soon.”

  Linda logged back online. There were still no messages from Cindy, or Scott; only the returned emails which she couldn’t bring herself to delete. She logged off again, concern flooding her senses as she forced herself to shower and tried to nibble on some toast, waiting; for what she was no longer sure. She couldn’t do anything more now until Scott called back and told her what if anything he had found out. But she couldn’t sit there much longer hoping and waiting either.

  Like a drugged woman she walked around the small two bedroom house; watering the ferns and kentia palms she had crowded into every room on top of every piece of furniture and in every nook she could find. Then she stopped in the doorway to the bedroom she had decorated for Cindy, her eyes moistening as she stared at the pinewood four poster bed near the window with crisp white organdie curtains matching the crisp white organdie bedspread. It was almost a replica of the bedroom Cindy had grown up in back in Costa Mesa. She had even hand embroidered floral throw pillows like the ones Cindy had loved then. It was Cindy’s style, homey and countrified. She walked away; dabbing at her ey
es as she grabbed a mop and mopped the hardwood floors, taking the scatter mats outside to her tiny backyard crammed with rose bushes scattered amongst hibiscus bushes and lavender bushes, and shook the mats vigorously.

  When the phone rang near noon she rushed over to grab it.

  “Hello!”

  “It’s me,” said Scott, sounding serious. “I’ve checked at the police station and no accident reports, and no hospitals have reported anyone having been brought in fitting Cindy or Michael’s descriptions, so that’s good news for a start.”

  “Thank God,” she said sinking onto the couch.

  “I’m catching the shuttle flight down to Newport Beach tonight,” he said. “My son, Dan, is picking me up and I’ll be staying with him for a couple days while I look around. Write down this phone number in case you need to call me.”

  She wrote it down. “Scott, I’ll be calling Michael’s office late tonight and talk to that Anthony Wainwright the man told me to call. It will be Monday morning there then and I know they open early because of the stock market. If he can’t tell me anything, I’m flying over there on the next flight. My passport is still current and I just can’t sit here and do nothing. I’ll go crazy.”