11:14 a.m.
Pasadena, California ~ Sunday, August 17, 2014
I remembered the surrealism of talking with Gideon on the phone that morning in Flagstaff. He was alive and had existed the whole time—he’d never really been gone, just elsewhere—but it was strange to hear his voice again for real on the line since, for the two years prior, I’d heard it only in my head.
How long would it take before I started to forget the exact timbre of my own son’s voice? It made me shudder to think I ever could and, yet...I was human. Just another flawed, scared human, who couldn’t have felt more frightened and alone if I’d lost the acuity of all of my senses, not just my hearing. They seemed worthless to me now anyway.
The morning had been spent making a series of new calls.
To Jay, just to check in. No, he still hadn’t heard from his brother, but he was willing to drive down to Pasadena to be with me, if I wanted. I said I was “okay for now.” (Of course, I was lying.)
To my husband, who was between flights in Salt Lake City and would, thankfully, be home soon.
To Gloria, the little busybody, who assured me she’d let me know if Charlie finally left a message on the office voicemail system or logged into his company email account. She tracked those things, didn’t I know...and she wasn’t one to fail to deliver on her word. The bitch.
To Officer Barrett Rogers, who was quick to get a profile of Charlie loaded onto the police department’s website. Do you have information on this missing person? it read across the page in stark lettering. The cop was checking into all incoming police reports, as well as the latest hospital and morgue admissions. He, too, promised to call the second there was any news worth reporting.
I spent the past hour pacing around the house, trying to quell the flood of emotions. My fear for my son’s life rose like the tide, but it never ebbed. It just kept rising and cresting at new levels. It was an internal tsunami, and I could do nothing about it.
But then the phone rang.
For a split second, as the sound pierced the silence and then died away, I didn’t allow myself to think or feel. The news could be anything. My entire life hung in that empty reverberation between rings.
I reached for the receiver.