Isabella did not hear their stifled giggles, nor the patter
of their feet, as they snuck away. She was tired –her morning coffee was the
first casualty of Eli’s meltdown this morning, followed shortly by the large
bay window in the breakfast nook. She had managed to grab a sweater for over
her house dress, which luckily obscured the stains from last night’s dinner,
but she hadn’t had time to brush her hair or teeth.
Sam the salesman’s slick voice slithered into her brain. She
hunched over the desk and tried to re-focus through misted eyes on the
catalogue of windows. With a long-ago manicured nail, she pointed at one. “This
one, then. That’s the cheapest you have in stock?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled, “but that’s a single pane.
Wouldn’t y’all want a double pane for only $150 more?”
She shook her head.
“No. That’s all I can afford.”
“We have no-interest payment plans, ma’am. We can fill out
the application in minutes.”
She closed her eyes, seeing an image of her monthly ledger,
full of red marks and scratched out entries. The knots in her back tightened,
but she kept her voice level. “No. I don’t need another monthly payment.” She
took a breath. “You said you have a man that can come out today?”
“Yes, it’s only an extra $50 for same-day installment.”
Only. That’s half a week’s worth of groceries.
Jaw clenched, she gritted, “Then tomorrow?”
“Yes, ma’am, I have an appointment first thing in the
morning.”
“Great.” She gathered her things and turned to her children.
What she found was two mostly empty chairs, identical tablets resting on them
with game music playing. “Shit!”
“Ma’am?” Sam gasped.
She ignored him, staring at the lack of children.
I should have known they would lose interest in their
tablets. Why can’t I ever predict my children? I’ve been a mother for eight
years now.
A door slammed. She grabbed their things, tablets shoved
into her purse and headphones clutched in her fist, then hurried toward the
sound. Please don’t let there be
another meltdown.
She wove her way through the rows and rows of doors of all
different styles. She opened a stained cherry door, with a semi-circle window
on top destined to one day be shattered by a wife, after she finds her husband
in bed with another. No one. She turned the handle on an interior door, someday
to be adorned with fairy and unicorn stickers by a curly-haired five-year-old
princess. No one. She depressed the lever to a bright red door, slated for
late-night rendezvous’ with boyfriends, the handle quietly turned by a teen
wearing his varsity wrestling jacket. No one.
She put a hand on the last door frame in the row. “Elijah?
Macy?” Her voice echoed around the rafters, startling a pigeon.
She rounded the corner and found Macy pouting. Blonde tendrils
escaped from her hasty ponytail, dirty cheeks – weren’t they clean when they
got here? Isabella could tell something was wrong.
“Ma!” Macy scolded, sagging against a double French door. “I
can’t find Eli. He’s been hiding for HOURS.”
“You two were supposed to stay with me.” She scolded back.
Macy sighed. “Eli was getting antsy. You were too
frustrated, Ma.”
Eli soaks up emotions like a sponge in water. I should
have known. “You’re right, Mace. We’ll find him together.” They took each
other’s’ hand, then together began walking the hallways of doors.
She called, trying for the voice of authority, “Eli? It’s time
to go home.” Her voice boomeranged back to her ears, the store eerily empty for
a Saturday morning.
They strode up one aisle and down the next, then another,
and another. When they found themselves among the toilets, she turned them back
around, to their starting point.
Macy flopped down onto the ground, arms and legs out like
the beginnings of a snow-angel. “See? I told you, Ma. He’s disappeared.”
How many times is this now? Five? Six? Where he lost both
me and Macy? Will we find him before we have to call the police?
Memories flashed: turning around to find both leashes hanging
loose, two giggling toddlers hiding in the clothing rack at Walmart. Their
slippery, sweaty palms sliding out of hers and their little feet running faster
than hers. The cart that should have held two children suddenly empty. Finding
Macy crying and hours later, finding Elijah on top of the freezer aisle,
playing with the Christmas train display.
As with all the times before, her stomach turned, the
illogical possibilities brewing like a hurricane on the Atlantic.
She sat down next to Macy, running fingers through her
knotted hair. “Where’d you last see him?”
Macy pointed to their right. “He went through that dark solid
one. The super boring one with no windows or anything. Why would someone want
something so boring, anyway?”
A half-smile perched on her lips. Macy has always cared
about the aesthetics of things.
“I don’t know, Mace. Some people like simple.” She pushed
herself up, then held one hand out to help Macy. “I know you tried with Eli.
You always do. Let’s go for another round, k?”
“I did, Ma. I was only seconds behind him, I swear. He
disappeared so fast!”
҉ ҉ ҉
They stopped at the door. Macy was right. It was outstanding
in its simplicity. Where did Eli go after this?
She turned the knob, praying to no god in particular that
her son would be on the other side.
He was not.
Macy’s hand squeezed hers. “Ma? What’s next?”
“I guess now we go to the next level.”
They stepped over the fake threshold, then wove through the
other doors back to the salesman’s desk.
Their shadows alerted him to their presence. She noted
frustration in his eyes before he hid it with the typical Southern charm.
“Hello again, ma’am. Did you change your mind about the same
day delivery?”
She ran her hand through her hair. “No, no, that’s still a
no.”
“Is something else wrong?”
“Yes, maybe. I mean, I can’t find my son. He’s—” She turned
around to look at Macy. “Well, he’s about her height, eight years old. He was
wearing overalls like her, and he has dark hair instead of blonde. He has a—” she
drew a circle with her finger around her eye “—it’s called something like hemang—”
She fluttered her hands. “I don’t remember. But he has a mark around his right
eye, it’s dark red, it’s always been there. And he was wearing a Minecraft
shirt, I think, or maybe it was Pokemon. And he’s scrawny, 70 pounds soaking wet,
and—” She paused, bit her bottom lip.
“Yes?”
She pushed her hands into her forehead. “Well, he’s
autistic. I don’t—” She caught a sob. “I don’t know what he’ll do if strangers
confront him. He—He doesn’t know how to interact with people, he doesn’t talk a
lot, he might hurt someone.”
His eyes showed no signs of understanding. “We can close the
doors, make sure no one leaves without being checked.” He picked up the phone.
The music paused and the overhead speakers crackled. “I have
a Code Adam in Doors and Windows. Can I get a manager please?”
She put one fist to her mouth, the other against the desk. Please
don’t let it be as bad as Walmart two years ago.
The weight of Isabella’s repeated failure to keep her son
safe whittled her to a jagged edge.
҉ ҉ ҉
Macy put a hand over her stomach to stifle the rumble. “Ma?”
Isabella stared straight ahead, unhearing, her body taut
like a violin string, her thoughts caught in the meltdown from this morning. Elijah’s
face, when he realized they were out of bacon. The coffee on the walls, her
favorite mug in pieces on the linoleum floor, the #1 more a question than fact.
What if--?
She shook her head. No. Wishes won’t make him come home.
We have to keep going. Her legs did not follow the command her brain gave
them.
“Mommy!” Macy shook her shoulder.
The childish moniker startled her, and Isabella returned to
the present. “Yes?”
“I’m hungry. My legs hurt.” Macy’s stomach gurgled again,
louder, in agreement.
They had scoured the store, twice, but found no sign of Eli.
Now, they were back at the beginning, their backs to the display of doorknobs
and locks, facing the hallways of doors. The store had closed their doors to
customers, so their only company was the police department. She could hear
echoing voices calling out from all over the store.
Isabella took her hand. “No, Mace, I’m sorry, I didn’t plan
for us to be here so long.” She checked her purse. “Here, I have two dollars.
Let’s go see what the vending machine has.”
I should have known to bring food with us, even for the
little trips. Why do I always forget?
“Can I get chocolate?”
Isabella’s shoulders dropped in resignation. “Yes, if they
have some. Whatever you want.”
At the machine, a familiar officer came over and wrapped Isabella
in a hug. “We have no news. How are you holding up?”
How do you think? Eli’s missing and I’m a wreck, like
always, and I haven’t eaten since last night.
“Macy’s hungry. I—” She stepped out of Shelby’s embrace. “Thanks
for coming, I’m sure you had other things to do. I wish he’d stop doing this.”
The officer shook her head. “We’ll find him. We always do,
and we have a lot of people on this. Have you called your husband yet?”
Isabella snorted. “You
know Henry. I doubt he’ll deign to do anything.”
“You should. Just in case. That may be who he’s with.”
Isabella arched her eyebrows.
“Anything’s possible, Izzy. It’s worth a try.” She squeezed
Isabella’s shoulder one more time. “I’m going to walk around again, but you
give him a call, hear me?”
Isabella tried to smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
Macy jumped in delight. “Mama, they have the peanut
M&Ms! Can I get those?”
“Sure, babe. Whatever you want.” Isabella chewed on a
fingernail, only a few remaining chips of red left.
҉ ҉ ҉
Back at the doorknobs display, she held her phone up to her
ear, knuckles white. The other line rang three times before he answered. Always
three.
“What?” He panted. Probably running on that damn treadmill
of his.
“I’m calling to let you know Eli went missing at the
hardware store.”
“You lost our son again?” There was a shuffle and series of
distortions, then a whirring sound. Probably putting the phone on the
treadmill’s holder.
“He wandered off. I don’t know. He’s been gone for over two
hours now. I thought you should know.”
His breathing accelerated. “Yeah, ok. What do you want me to
do?”
“I just- I don’t know, figured you might want to know? In
case you wanted to be here or something? Fuck, I mean, he’s your son!” She
slammed her free hand on the display next to her.
Macy gasped behind her. Guilt permeated as she realized her
daughter was hearing everything. She was supposed to be playing Plants
Versus Zombies 2, not listening to me.
“Yeah, ok. Let me know when you find him.” Click.
She pinched her nose, trying to hold back the scream
building inside.
“Mama?” Macy asked, her hand on Isabella’s shoulder, a jolt
sparking through her body. “Are you getting one of your headaches?”
“Yes, sweetheart, I am. But I’ll be ok.” Will I?
“You brought your medicine?” The worry line creased on
Macy’s forehead.
Isabella nodded. No, but she doesn’t need to know that. “Yes,
I did, I’ll go get some water and take it. Want anything?”
“I’ll come with. I need to pee anyway.”
҉ ҉ ҉
Isabella and Macy had fallen asleep in a pile of each other
against the wall of handles, their accoutrements strewn about them. If they had
been awake, they could have seen the door that Eli had walked through before
disappearing. They might have heard, if they listened closely, a clang of a
sword.
A voice jostled her awake. “Ma’am?”
A man towered over her, his blonde hair and smooth, his chubby
cheeks incongruous with his police officer’s uniform. She slipped her arm out
from under Macy and gently laid her back down on her sweater.
Thank goodness she sleeps like a log.
She pulled herself up and picked her hair out of her mouth. “Yes?”
“There’s— Well, it’s been over eight hours.” He looked down
at Macy, who was curled up, snoring, her Pikachu sweatshirt a makeshift pillow.
“It’d be best if you go on home, wait there. He may be already there.”
Tears stung her eyes as she blinked them back. “Oh.” That’s
it?
“Our search teams will continue in the morning.”
Fear threatened to overwhelm her. “But—It’s cold out there.
He didn’t have a jacket.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We don’t have the resources to search at
night, especially with the expected storm coming.”
Her voice exploded out of her. “There’s a storm coming, and
you’re more worried about yourselves than an under-dressed eight-year-old?!”
His cheeks flared bright. “I—”
She broke in, her hands trembling with the force of her
anger. “No. You need to go back to your boss, tell him to keep looking. My son
could die out there, and if he does, it will be your fau—”
Shelby appeared out of the dimness. She strode calmly over
and put a cool hand on Isabella’s cheek, cutting her tirade short. “Iz, he’s
new. Let him be. This came from higher up. And he’s right. There’s a hurricane
brewing on the Atlantic, about an hour away it looks like, and we can’t risk
our people in it. You should get home, with Macy, and lock yourselves in your
storm shelter. It’s not safe, for anyone.”
“How did the weather people not see a hurricane coming? What
about Eli?” she whispered.
Shelby’s radio emitted static, then a gruff voice. “Officer
Jones, the storm is getting closer, it’s almost on land. You and Davey need to
get out of there now.”
“Iz, we have to hope he’s found somewhere safe to be. And
right now, you and Macy need to find somewhere. Go.” The two officers moved out
so quickly Isabella wondered if they’d even been there at all.
So quick to leave me and Macy. So quick to forget about
Eli.
The tears streamed down her face as a gale hit the side of
the building and the ground shook. The
lights went out, then the generator kicked in. The lights were even dimmer,
hazy almost, and an eerie feeling settled over her, like driving at 3 am when
it’s foggy.
She stared at his door from the end of the aisle.
Eli. Come back to me. We need to go home.
When nothing happened, she leaned down and started gathering
her purse and the assortment of snacks the staff had bribed Macy with.
No point in letting food go to waste, especially if we’re
going to be locked in the storm cellar.
A light flashed behind her, bright enough to illuminate all the
corners around her, and thunder followed.
She jumped at the sound and turned. The door had opened. The
light was coming from the other side, but there was nothing there. She felt
drawn, found herself walking closer and closer as though pulled by a cord. When
a few feet away, a bony, hairy leg emerged from the light, the foot bare and
knobby.
A man’s foot.
She froze, hand to her mouth. As she watched, the leg
extended and she saw threadbare fabric shorts, then a hand, a shoulder, the
other leg, and finally the head. He turned to look straight at her and she
almost fell.
He stood at least six feet tall. He wore tan coarsely woven
shorts with a rope as a belt and no shirt. His shoulders were broad and strong,
but his ribs showed through his bronzed skin. His dark hair was long and his
lower face was covered in a bushy beard down to his chest. His eyes were wary.
On his hip hung a sword in a scabbard. But most shocking, for Isabella, was the
wine-colored birthmark circling his right eye, like a raccoon.
Like Eli.
The door slammed shut behind him. He jumped.
She stuttered. “Y-You have a sword.”
He looked down. “There were beasts.” His voice grated.
“In Home Depot?” She wrinkled her forehead.
“No. There.” He thumbed at the door.
Part of her wanted to run away from this strange man. No one
else was around, except for her sleeping daughter, and the air felt heavy. Thinking
she must still be asleep, she continued. “Where was there?”
He shrugged. “Paradise? Hell? Somewhere between?”
“Oh.”
He hesitantly sidled over. When he was within arm’s reach,
he paused. “Have you been waiting long?”
She shook her head. “For what?”
“For me.”
“What? No.“ She laughed. “I’m waiting for my son. He’s
eight, about this high—” she held her hand at about mid-chest level. “He has
dark hair, like you, and a red—” She paused, her hands aching to wipe away the
tear weaving across his birthmark.
“I know.” He croaked. “That was me.”
“No. What— How—" She coughed. “How would that even be
possible? You’re at least in your twenties. You have a sword. My son didn’t
have a sword. He’s only been missing for six hours, not over a decade!”
“The days—" He splayed his hands up. “They were all the
same, eventually.”
She pushed the palm of her hand into her forehead, trying to
make sense of this man in front of her, this man that came from nowhere and
claimed to be her 8-year-old son.
“Look.” He said, holding something out to her.
She took it and held it up to her eyes, the dim light making
it hard to read. “This is my son’s ID bracelet. How did you get this? Where’s
my son?” Her voice rose with each word.
“I am.” He said, softly, gently.
“You can’t be.”
He shrugged. “Can’t, but am.”
She stared at his face, the same birthmark, the same colored
eyes, the resemblance to Henry. She wanted to believe so that she could have
her son back, even if he wasn’t the same. Something moved in the corner of her
eye and she looked down.
His hands – he was tapping his index finger and thumb
together in perfect intervals, the other fingers spread out in an OK sign.
Eli does that when he’s anxious.
They both startled at Macy’s voice.
“Hey, Eli. You got big.” She squinted through the sleep still
crusted around her eyes.
“I did, Mace.” He whispered back.
“That’s cool.” She stumbled, then turned to Isabella. “Mommy,
can we go home now?”
“Shit.” Isabella pounded her forehead. “I forgot. How could
I forget? There’s a hurricane coming, we need to go!”
“Okay, Ma.” Macy walked to the man and touched his arm. “Can you carry me?”
I should carry her. She’s my daughter. But, she’s too
big to carry.
“Yeah.”
I can’t let a strange man pick up my daughter. Can I? If
I do it, I’ll hurt my back. But he’s a stranger, how can I trust him? Is he a stranger?
Am I dreaming?
Before she could finish her internal dialog, he’d already
hoisted Macy up into his arms where she nestled in.
“Go back to sleep.”
She was soon snoring again.
If Macy trusts him, can I? How does he know her name? Has
he been stalking us?
She followed close behind them, out the doors and into the
dark parking lot. The sky was clear, dotted with stars and a full moon. What
happened to the hurricane?
The man navigated the darkness like a cat, around to the
side of the building where Isabella’s car was hidden.
Eli always remembers where I park, even when I don’t.
She stood back as she watched him gently buckle Macy into
her booster, careful not to wake her.
Eli and Macy always had a strong relationship, a fierce
one. Even in the midst of a meltdown like this morning, he somehow always keeps
her out of it, keeps her safe.
The stress and emotions from the day finally caught up to
her. She sobbed silently, glad of the dark parking lot, the moon hidden by
clouds.
The door shut with a quiet thud and the man stood in front
of her.
“Hug time?” He asked, quiet, somber.
That’s what I say to the twins when they’re upset. How
would he know that?
“Um. No. I mean yes. I mean, I don’t know you.”
He hugged her anyway, his arms wrapped around her back, his
face nestled into her neck.
Eli always gives amazing hugs.
