THE BEACH IS crowded at midday. The bright sun is hot, but the cool Adirondack breeze more than compensates. I focus my gaze on the water’s edge, where Chloe was digging a deep trench in the sand with her new friend. Chloe is nowhere to be found, at least upon initial glance.
I feel a slight jolt in my heart.
I’m not good when it comes to lack of control. But it’s quickly becoming apparent that I’m especially not good when it comes to not knowing where my own kid is. What’s that? Another double negative? But then, there’s nothing very positive about this situation. Maybe I haven’t spent much time with my daughter, but that doesn’t mean my instincts aren’t finely tuned. And right now, my instinct is to call out for her.
“Chloe?!” I shout. So loud I startle Penny and cause just about every head on every man, woman, and child located within a fifty-foot radius to suddenly turn and stare at me.
“Take it easy, Doc,” Penny whispers forcefully.
I look at her. Her face has turned beet red, as if she’s embarrassed by what I’ve just done. By the attention we’re getting from my shout.
“What do you mean take it easy, Pen?” I say. “I don’t see Chloe anywhere.”
“Relax,” she presses. “You’re just not used to being a parent.” She takes hold of my hand. “Chloe is here. I’m sure she’s just taking a walk, or maybe she went around front to grab a snack or something.” Squeezing my hand. “Just take a breath, big fella.”
Breathing in and out, I feel myself calming down somewhat. Maybe Penny is right. Maybe I’m flying off the handle because I’m not used to all this. Being a parent and all. I’m more used to taking care of myself. Of making sure I don’t become a victim. That kind of thinking has to stop now. The world no longer revolves around me, nor the men who wish to silence me. It also includes my wife and my daughter.
Penny releases my hand.
“Let’s go talk to the parents of the girl Chloe was playing with before we went inside.”
“Proactive medicine,” I say. “By far the best approach.”
But what wasn’t a good approach, I now realize, was our decision to head back to our room to be alone in the first place. This is my fault.
We head back down the beach, the faces and eyes of the vacationers still staring, but quickly turning away when I stare back at them. I’m not sure if I look like I’ve just gotten out of prison, but they sure can feel it when I dig my eyes into them. Rather, they feel the desperation and rawness that oozes off of me. I can bench press almost twice my own weight. I can squat three times my weight, and I can do twenty-five bicep curls without breaking a sweat. You can leave the prison yard, but like a jagged purple scar, it takes one hell of a long time for it to leave you. Trust me on that.
When we come to the spot where Chloe and her new friend have dug a big hole in the sand, we stop. Penny assumes her best polite parent smile. Since the little girl is still busy digging, Penny doesn’t bother her, but instead, holds out her hand for the mother.
“Hello,” she says. “I’m Penny O’Keefe and this is my husband, Sidney. We’re Chloe’s parents … the little girl who was playing with your daughter just a few moments ago.”
“Oh, what a sweet girl,” the woman says, sitting up in her beach chair. She’s got short brunette hair and a pleasant face. A little on the heavier side, just like her husband, or the guy who I assume is her husband, who’s portly in the gut and bald. They’re both wearing sunglasses. They also have matching sterling silver crosses hanging from their necks by thin silver chains. Good Catholics maybe. Christians anyway. I can’t remember the last time I prayed.
“Thank you,” Penny says. “I can see you’re blessed, too.”
“Thanks,” the man interjects. “Susan is our pride and joy. We could only have one child, so we spoil her. Don’t we, dolly?”
“Daaaad,” Susan says, looking up and taking a breather from her digging. “You don’t spoil me. Or else I’d have an iPhone by now.” She giggles, her hair thick and wavy. There’s some sand in it. There’s something about her eyes. They’re glassy. Like she just woke up from a long nap in the hot sun.
“No iPhones yet, young lady,” her mother insists. “High school will be time enough.”
The conversation resounds inside my brain. It’s nearly identical to the argument Chloe and Penny were having this morning inside our hotel room.
“It would be safer if I had one now, Mom,” Susan argues. “That way you’d know where I am at all times.”
“We know where you are at all times because we keep a constant eye on you, sweetie,” the father chimes in. “Isn’t that right, dear?”
“You never can be too careful, now can you?” the mother says looking into both Penny’s and my eyes.
The guilt washes over me like a bucket of tainted blood. Bad decisions … They will be the death of me, which, in some ways, is fine. So long as they aren’t the death of someone else. Someone I love very much.
“Oh, I know what you mean, Mrs….” Penny allows the Missus to dangle.
“Mrs. Stevens,” she says. “Claudia Stevens, and this is Burt.”
He reaches out with his meaty hand. I take it in mine, shake and release.
“Pleasure to meet you, Burt.”
“Jeeze, where’d you get that grip, pal?” he inquires.
“My husband spends a lot of time in the weight room,” Penny interrupts.
“He looks like quite the tough guy,” Burt says. “Every man on the beach is probably intimidated.” Patting his belly. “Guess I should get back to the gym one of these days.”
“Keep dreaming, Burt,” Claudia comments.
Now I’m not only worried about Chloe, I’m genuinely embarrassed. Has prison turned me into a physical monster?
Then, Penny, breaking in. “If you don’t mind my asking, Claudia and Burt, have you seen our daughter?”
As if taking a cue from a script, the two turn and gaze into one another’s eyes, then refocus their gaze on us.
“You mean you don’t know where she is?” Claudia asks.
Penny issues a nervous laugh.
“Oh, well, we know she’s around here somewhere,” she insists. “Just like you and your daughter, we’re always keeping our eye on her. But we had to go back to the room together for a minute. You’ll recall I spoke to Chloe before we went back to the room. I instructed her not to leave this spot for any reason.”
Burt turns to Claudia.
“That so,” he says. “I must have been taking a catnap because I don’t remember seeing you.” He laughs. “But that doesn’t mean anything. I enjoy my naps. I enjoy my daydreams.” He leans forward in his chair so that his beer gut presses against his white thighs. “If you don’t mind my saying,” he says a bit under his breath, “I bet you snuck in a little quality time alone.” He gives us both a wink. “Tough to get alone time on vacay.”
“Dad,” Susan says, from her sand trench, “don’t make me want to throw up.”
Claudia waves her hand at her husband like, don’t pay any attention to him.
“The girls were playing nicely,” she goes on. “I’m sure she didn’t go far.” She stands. “I can help you look for her if you want. Shall I call the hotel house detective? They have one, you know. I’ve seen her.”
I lock eyes with Penny, shake my head slowly. She knows what I’m thinking. I’m newly paroled. I’m a headline on the local hourly news reports. Last thing we need right now is getting any kind of organized law enforcement involved in something that could be a great big nothing burger.
“It’s okay,” Penny says. “Really, it’s fine. You’ve been very helpful.”
I’m looking over one shoulder then the other. Seeing nothing. Only beach on one side, scattered beachgoers, and behind that, the long four-story hotel. On the other side, nothing but open water, and beyond that, the wooded, residential area of Lake Placid.
I bite down on my lip again. Harder than normal. I taste the blood in my mouth.
… Go easy, Sid. Don’t say anything stupid. Don’t do anything stupid. Like Penny says, Chloe just drifted off like a lot of pre-teens will. She’s probably got her earbuds in and listening to some loud music and wandering around the downtown …
“Is something wrong with Chloe?”
The voice of the little girl playing in the sand. Susan.
“No,” I say, staring into her dreamy blue eyes. “We can’t find her right now, Susan. Do you know where she might be?”
Claudia steps in front of me, takes hold of Susan by the arm. Gently, but at the same time, a little forcefully.
“She wouldn’t know,” she insists. “Sue has had her head buried in the sand all day.” She giggles. “Buried in the sand, get it?”
“I remember she was asking where her parents were,” Susan volunteers.
“What was that?” Penny says. “What did you say?”
“Chloe,” little Susan says, as her mother releases her arm. “Before my mom took me back to the room for my shot, she looked worried because she didn’t know where you were.”
“What shot?” I ask.
Claudia smiles nervously.
“My daughter has type one diabetes,” she explains. “She requires two insulin shots per day.”
That strikes me as a bit funny, because Susan can’t weigh more than sixty pounds. But then, believe it or not, weight has nothing to do with how many injections a kid with type one diabetes might require in a single day. I’m a med school dropout, and even I know that. What’s important here is that, for the first time since we discovered Chloe isn’t where she’s supposed to be, Penny’s face loses all its color. And that, to me anyway, is worrisome.
“I told Chloe where we were going,” she says, more to herself than to anyone else. “Why would she ask where we were if I already told her where we were going?”
“Listen, Pen,” I interject. “Since she’s not on the beach, let’s go around the front of the hotel and look there.”
“Maybe she went to the indoor pool?” Claudia suggests.
Some of the color returns to Penny’s face.
“Of course,” she says. “That’s where she must be. My daughter can’t live without the indoor pool.”
“Thank you very much, folks,” I say, as I begin making my way back up the beach toward the rear hotel doors. Double time.