Evanescere: Origins

by Vanessa Buckingham

  We went to Ashes on the Bourbon and had a few drinks I took a turn on the electric chair and downed a shot of Tequila. For the record, it is not really electric. I mean it does give you a little bit of a shock, like the type you would get from a shocking pen. Later we went to the Blackbeard’s Booty Bar. This is a regular bar, with Karaoke. I loved this place, I was able to ride the mechanical bull. It was so much fun. I remember getting thrown off the bull and getting back on it. It is a good thing they have padding along the area surrounding the bull.

  I loved this time we had together. It was past midnight when we decided to go back out on the street and catch the shuttle. We walked back to the corner of Bourbon Street and Ursuline, back to the green house. I leaned against the house as we stood waiting for the shuttle. I had to go to the bathroom and was unsure if I could wait until we arrived at the hotel. I could tell it would be along ride back because the streets were crowded and there were police barricades at the intersections. This would make travel to and from the French Quarter tricky. Deciding I did not want to wait, I told Axel I was going to run across the street and use the bathroom. I never made it back to him.

  How little did I realize that I would be dead in less than twenty-four hours and my life would no longer be my own

  2. THE SEARCH

  S

  ALOME AND I DECIDED WE NEEDED to get away for the weekend. Well in reality I had made the decision to go, a surprise for her. In the past few years we sort of hit a constant fighting period. I was always mad and so was she. I knew I still loved her and she me. Eleven years together and we just needed to find the love again. We both live crazy lives with hectic schedules at times. We are both short on time and aside from a how was your day we basically did not say anything else. We finally sat down to talk and decided we wanted to save us.

  We left Jazmine and Max at home with my in-laws. I had called them the week before and discussed my idea with them. Surprisingly they agreed to come up to help. The arrived the night before, surprising Salome.

  As we hit the road in the morning, she turned up the volume of the radio and sang along with her favorites. From the sad mariachi ballads to pop and alternative. Salome lowered the window and let her beautiful brown hair loose. The wind blew it in every which direction. Her hair looked wild as it blew. She still looked so young and vibrant. I loved her long brown hair. In the sun you could see red in her hair. During the summer her hair got lighter, fuller. She would do her hair in a beautiful braid which made her look younger still.

  We talked and joked around the entire drive and slowly I knew it would be a good time and we would be okay. As we neared New Orleans I could feel her anticipation. Salome has always been the one who always got hurt despite the best of her intentions. My thought shifted to the summer before, when she broke her ribs at the water park trying to show off. I remembered when Jazz was a baby and Salome was walking in around at the old Brownwood Park when she tripped and fell. Rather than let the baby get hurt she took the full impact of the fall. Her knees were badly cut as were her palms and face.

  I guess it is safe to say that Salome is Murphey’s law. Anything that can happen will happen when it comes to her. She is also fearless. She has done more in her life just to prove a point. She can also be impulsive which has gotten her into trouble before. Nothing major, just a broken bone here or there or gone to the mall for one thing and come to find out she spent three hundred dollars on impulse shopping, I knew it was the stress from arguing in which she would go out for some “retail therapy” as she called it.

  We arrived at the hotel and she was ready to go. I looked at her and smiled. Same old Salome. She is so full of energy that she just wants to keep going and going. I am not sure she knows how to relax for a minute. I had to remind her we needed to check in and take a break after all we had been stuck in a car for four hours.

  I look at the car and it is her pride and joy. Her third baby. I know it was killing her to have to do the speed limit to New Orleans. She always tells me it’s not her I have to worry about, it is the other crazy people on the road. How I wished it was that easy?

  Salome did not understand how beautiful and delicate she is. She did not know how I worried about the what ifs in life. Of course I worried about her, how could I not. She was my life, my everything. The mother of my children. We have been married for eleven years, we made it past the seven-year itch, now I was hoping to get past the eleven-year itch.

  After we unpacked and got ready for a night on the town, we got on the shuttle and headed for a night of fun on Bourbon. As she talked animatedly I kept thinking how lucky I was to have found her and amazingly she loved me. When we arrived on Bourbon Street, I could tell that the lights, the performers, everything about New Orleans put her mind into overdrive. I could see the gleam in her soft amber brown eyes and I knew then she would be like a child in a candy store.

  We slowly walked up and down Bourbon Street and the Rue Royal. I could tell she wanted to experience it all at once. I told her to take it slow and for once she listened. We walked into the Voodoo store and the fortune teller was in there. Normally I don’t put much stock into them but this one scared me. It was weird she even gave Salome her money back. Then we were back out on the street and of course a few blocks down there would be another voodoo queen out in the street. This one scared me even more than the first. I wish I could say I was relieved when Salome said it was all for fun. But I had to admit, deep down I was worried.

  We went into a couple of bars and had a few drinks. She was young and vivacious I saw her live. She had so much fun on the mechanical bull. I jumped once when she flew off of the bull. My tiny Salome flew a solid ten feet maybe. She hit the cushioned barrier with a thud. When she didn’t get up, I thought she hurt herself. I saw her move slowly, as she stood up she jumped up and yelled again to the cheers of the bystanders watching.

  Maybe it was there they saw her. Maybe it was at the voodoo shop. Who knows what happened?

  Together, hand in hand we walked to meet the shuttle. It was not there. Salome said she needed to use the bathroom. She turned heal and began to walk off. I started to follow and she said to wait for the shuttle just in case. I never saw her again.

  I look back to that day and I can still picture her walking to find a bathroom. The soft sway of her hips. The flow of her long hair. I can still smell her perfume at home, long since faded. I can still smell the lavender shampoo she used. If only I had not let her walk away from me that night.

  The shuttle arrived shortly after Salome walked to the bathroom, minutes maybe. I asked the driver what time the next shuttle was expected. He told me it would be about forty-five minutes to an hour depending if the driver could get through the crowd of partygoers. I told him we would catch the next one. What is one more hour on Bourbon Street?

  I tried to call Salome but remembered I told her to leave her phone in the room. I took off in the direction I had seen her go and went by the first couple of establishments. I finally got to one where a young lady said Salome requested to use the bathroom but she had told Salome they were only for paying patrons at which point Salome ordered a shot of GoldSchlager. She said she then gave Salome a ticket to the ladies’ room. The hostess told me she saw Salome round the corner for the ladies’ room, but she did not remember her return from that direction.

  I walked in the direction the hostess told me and found the women’s room empty. There was not a line for the bathroom. I did notice that there was a neon EXIT sign at the end of the hall the metal door was slightly open. At this point I began to panic.

  I tried to call the police but over the noise of the revelers, they could not hear me clearly. I ran out into the street and ran until I found an officer. I explained to him that my wife was missing. He looked at me and said there was nothing to be done she has only been missing for a few minutes. I argued with him for several minutes. The officer explained several times she needs to be missing for about forty-eight hours before a report can be taken an
d since it was New Orleans she could be anywhere. He thought maybe she met someone else and left with him.

  The insult angered me. If I could have killed him, I would have. I lunged for him and stopped myself after seeing several officers approaching. I turned and started walking to all the establishments on Bourbon Street and the Rue Royal. No sign of Salome.

  She just vanished into thin air. I became frantic. I had no one in the area. I approached another officer I saw and he told me he could do nothing until the forty-eight hours had passed. I was scared I wanted my wife. I wanted her now. Where could she have gone? I thought back. Salome is very likely to have gotten lost. Maybe she took a shuttle back to the hotel and was panicking about me? Wasn’t this our game plan if we got separated? I went to catch the shuttle to the hotel hopeful she would be there and all would be okay.

  It seemed like an eternity before I arrived to the hotel. When we arrived, I pushed my way out of the shuttle and into the hotel lobby. I looked around toward the elevator. There was a crowd waiting for it. I did not feel like waiting for the elevator. I looked for the stairs and ran in that direction. I ran up the stairs, two at a time, to the room.

  Slowly, I opened the door and it was just as we left it. No sign of Salome. I saw her phone on the hotel dresser. She never made it back. I called the police and again was told she was an adult and nothing could be done at this time. Deep down I knew something was wrong. I made a call I never thought I would have to make. I called Olivia and Alex to tell them I lost their daughter in New Orleans. Olivia did not seem concerned since it was typical of Salome to get lost even in our small town of Orange, Texas.

  Understandably, Alex was upset but at the same time he was positive Salome would be back. Maybe she did get lost. I asked them not to tell the children just yet, but I would stay in New Orleans as long as I needed to bring back Salome.

  Sunday flew by in a blur. Salome was nowhere to be found. I went back to Bourbon Street during the day. No one except the hostess of La’ Fayette’s Good Times was the last to see her. Roughly a block from where I last saw Salome.

  On Monday I went to the New Orleans Police 8th District department to file the report and here I found myself in an interrogation room. I felt as though I was being treated as a criminal, while Salome was missing. I could not understand why they would not go out there and find my wife.

  I filed a missing persons’ report with Detective Jean Costeaux. He appeared more concerned over the fact that I allowed my five foot three, petite, wife go to a bathroom by herself in New Orleans on Bourbon Street of all places. Hell for all they thought she found someone and left with them.

  Not Salome, but I could not get anyone to listen. Now Olivia, Alex and the children found themselves in New Orleans on Tuesday. Olivia and Axel were worried as well, but they did not show it in front of the children. Jazz and Max both knew something was wrong. They both asked for Salome and I could not tell them where she was or when she would be back. Jazz was crying and distraught. I tried to comfort her as much as I could. I just did not know how. I could not comfort myself either.

  I went back to the police department on Friday, where I met a sympathetic detective. Detective Jack Whitecloud seemed to be helpful and he treated me as I should: the frightened grieving, husband and father. He asked if she had ever done anything like this and she has not. We did have some issues lately but nothing we could not fix. He took my information and a copy of Salome’s picture. He said he will notify the surrounding parishes.

  Later that day I made missing flyers at the local office supply store. I never thought I would see the day I would have to tell my children their mother was missing and I did not know when she would come back. Olivia and Alex barely spoke a word to me since getting here. We were all lost in our grief unable to help each other.

  On Saturday, the day after I met with Detective Whitecloud, we contacted the local TV channels and found a reporter willing to get Salome’s picture out. Soon after the broadcast, the police became more involved. When you think about it New Orleans could not afford another missing tourist.

  A search team was organized and the entirety of the French Quarter was searched and nothing was found. The hostess who had last seen Salome was taken in for questioning. She was later released. We stayed in New Orleans for a month before we had to return to our own homes with a heavy heart and no answers. I continue to go to New Orleans every month to pass out more flyers. Soon it became apparent that no one believed me all because we were trying to save our marriage.

  The police thought that either Salome had run off or I had something to do with her disappearance. Soon her case grew cold and interest was lost. She was forgotten by the world, but never by us. I wanted my wife back and my children wanted their mother. We were devastated by her loss but we never gave up hope that one day she would come back to us safe and sound.

  3. BRING ME TO LIFE

  A

  S I WALK TO THE CLUB AT THE CORNER I asked the hostess Lena to use the bathroom. She tells me the bathroom is for paying customers only. I order a shot of a cinnamon flavored schnapps, with gold flakes. I wondered if the gold flakes were real or if it was just for effect. The flecks shimmered in the bright strobe lights.

  Lena hands me the ticket and directs me to the bathroom. As I make my way across the club, I could feel the warmth of the sweating bodies on the dance floor. I see the vibrant colors of the neon glow sticks. I can see the splattered luminescent paint everywhere and on everyone. This looked like a good place to have fun. As I approached the bathroom I noticed that the hallway there is empty and dark. A shiver went up my spine for some unknown reason. I shrugged it off and entered.

  Upon exiting the bathroom, I notice the darkly lit hallway has become crowded. I walk into a crowd of drunken men. I made my excuses and proceeded to get by them. One of them grabbed my arm and spun me around so hard it hurt. I could feel my arm begin to bruise.

  “Come, have some fun with us?” the man taunted. “You look like you need a good time, and pretty little lady, I will give you a mighty fine good time,” he said, dragging out each word in that Southern drawl.

  I could smell the alcohol on him. The odor was so overpowering, I wanted to throw up from the stench. This man was average height and build. He was a bit pudgy in the middle. His dark pants maybe a size to small. He had dark hair and a receding hairline. He looked a little old for this type of bar. I noticed the crooked smile, the way he leered at me scared me. I could hear the other men laugh. It was going to be one of those day. Having to hear the cat calls by drunken men. Now I remember why I avoided the party scene.

  I saw another younger man, in a white button up shirt with long sleeves. His purple geometric tie was loose around his collar. He looked like he was a business professional. I could smell the alcohol and cologne on him. This man terrified me. He was taller than the other man, leaner, fitter, muscled. This man could break me in half if he so desired to. He reminded me of someone who spent his time in a gym. Maybe a few fights from the way his nose was positioned? It leaned more to the left side of his face. His jaw was squared and his lips set into a frim scowl. I vaguely noticed that he was beginning to roll up his sleeves.

  I attempted a smile and tried to continue on my way. I tried to ignore the insults as I made my way through the crowd. I felt a hand grab my arm and pull me back. In fear I tried to break free and run but it was useless. The men held me tight and dragged me toward the EXIT sign. I tried to scream but I knew my voice could not be heard over the music playing. I felt a heavy punch to my face. I was stunned silent from the blow. My mind was confused about what had just happened. I could not open my eye. It was now swollen shut. I felt the tears on my cheeks. I was crying from the pain and fear.

  Suddenly my survival instincts kicked in. I was not going to go without a fight. I let out another yell, I scratched the man that held me tight. I twisted myself into a position and bit his arm. The man let go quickly and yelled something unintelligible. I fell to the floor
and landed on my belly. I felt another blow this time to my ribs. I heard a crack and I could not breath. The wind was knocked out of me. The broken rib making it impossible to breath. I felt the sharp catch of each breath. I could not yell. I felt more hands roughly lift me up and carry me out of the bar. I felt the cool air on my face. This helped me a bit. I was not going to die here. I wanted to scream for Axel, but the noise of Bourbon Street drowned out my screams.

  *****

  So vividly I remember that night. It was one that has filled me with shame. Those drunken men beat me to an inch within my life. If I allow myself I can still feel their hands on me, touching me, grabbing me, hitting me. I can still feel them inside of me and I remember fighting back until I could no longer fight. I could feel the cold dampness of the Louisiana air on my skin. They carried me away. I was in and out of consciousness. They must have taken me somewhere.

  I heard a gate creak loudly and something cold touch my back. I was beaten, broken and waiting for death. I could taste my blood in my mouth. I felt the warmth of the blood pooling from my head. My cheek felt broken, it hurt so bad and throbbed. My hands and fingers hurt, they must have broken my fingers. I could feel them swelling. I fought until there was no life left.

  I heard one of the men laugh.

  “This one is a lot of fun. She likes to fight back,” I heard one taunt.

  With my remaining eye fluttering, I counted roughly six drunken men. Maybe I was seeing double. I could smell the Bleu cologne of one man. I could see his glacier blue eyes, and neatly pressed suit, when he put his head near me and yelled obscenities at me. If I had any fight left, I would have jumped. I was dying slowly, painfully.