Transience

by Stevan Mena

  She flipped through the book to C, but found no entry. She flipped to the M's and there it was, the name Carmen Muniz circled with a heart. She placed the book on her lap and repacked the box, closing it. She clutched the book and returned to the kitchen. She sat on a tall stool with a round red cushion and picked up the phone.

  The drone of the dial tone made her shiver nervously. She swallowed, listening a moment to make sure her mom wasn't up and about. She dialed the first few digits, her small fingers trembling. The terror was making her head ache, but her curiosity was so intense she decided facing the inevitable was her only choice. The pain and fear would be there anyway.

  She finished dialing, hesitating before inputting the last number. She pressed it, sending the signal whisking along its way, then held the phone with both hands — waiting.

  She looked over her shoulders several times, making sure the coast was clear. She checked the clock over the sink. 12:30 A.M. She hadn't slept a normal schedule in so long, it never occurred to her that whoever answered on the other end might not be too pleased to be getting a call this late, regardless of who was on the line.

  It rang once, twice, three times… four times. Rebecca went to hang up when she heard a click.

  "Hola?" a voice said. It was Francisco. Rebecca sat silently, her mouth open, but no words. "Hola? Hello?" he said again.

  "¿Quién es, Francisco?" Hester's voice said in the background, nervously. The sound bounced around in Rebecca's ears - she recognized it. She opened her mouth wider, but again nothing came out. Rebecca could hear the phone change hands.

  "Hello?" Hester said, clearing her throat, still groggy. Rebecca pulled the phone away from her ear in terror, but curiosity pushed it right back, fastening it to her head. "Hello, who is this? Nada, no one."

  "…Hello," Rebecca said, breaking her silence.

  "Who is this? Why are you calling me like this? Habla!"

  "…Momma?" Rebecca whispered into the phone. Hester went silent.

  "Rebecca?" Laura's voice spun Rebecca around, she immediately hung up like a young child caught looking at dirty pictures, slamming the pages closed. But she missed the base. Laura stood at the entrance to the kitchen in the darkness, bleary eyed, her robe open.

  Laura approached and grabbed the receiver from her hand. "Who are you talking to?"

  Laura lifted the phone to her ear. "Hello? Who is this?" Laura could hear sobbing, and then a click. "Hello? Hello?" Laura hung it up. Rebecca looked away, unable to make eye contact.

  "Who was that?" Laura turned Rebecca around, lifting her chin. "Rebecca, who was that? Who were you calling this late?"

  Rebecca just stared. Laura saw her old phone book and the photograph sitting on the counter. She grabbed Rebecca's shoulders. "Rebecca, who was that on the phone? Who were you calling? Answer me!" Rebecca jerked away and took a few unbalanced steps backwards, confused, frightened. Her mother knew exactly who she was calling.

  Rebecca's eyes went dark, cold. Immediately fear gripped Laura tightly, not wanting to endure another episode like the one by the river. She backed off, softening her tone.

  "Sweetie, talk to me."

  "I have to go," Rebecca said. Laura reached for her, but she pulled away, taking a few more steps, but not really going anywhere.

  "Baby, what are you talking about?"

  "They must be so worried," Rebecca whispered. Laura crept towards Rebecca slowly, the way someone tries to approach an animal without spooking it. "Who? Who's worried, sweetie?" Rebecca just stood there, an epiphany was washing over her, pieces of a puzzle locking into place.

  She turned away from Laura and grabbed her head, a tremendous pain suddenly swelled inside. It was the realization of truth, the anguish of being lost, of death, and then of being found, reconnection, longing and fulfillment — all of these emotions swirling inside her, slamming her fragile mind. Emotions without the clarity or perspective of where they emanated from. Emotions without the memories attached, just loose ends that felt real, that needed tying.

  And the solution — the answers, lie out there. It couldn't be solved with a mother-daughter talk, not anymore, now that the bond of trust had been broken. A good night's sleep wouldn't solve the riddle, neither would ignoring the feelings, hoping they would go away. They were here to stay, at least until an explanation that included some type of closure could put them to rest.

  A light was turned on, Rebecca had stepped forth from the shadows of doubt and uncertainty — into reality. And that was the only prescription she needed. A large dose of reality.

  Laura watched in agonizing horror as Rebecca imploded before her eyes. It wasn't loud, or physical, it was an awakening. Powered by a force stronger than her, welling up and taking over. Her mind was downloading and processing information previously inaccessible, repressed and submerged, now bubbling to the surface. Rebecca was seeing the world for the first time as it actually was. And her place in it.

  Laura wept at the sight, terrified for her, of the consequences. She cried, teeth bared, a contorted grimace of sorrow, helpless. "Becca, please…"

  "Get away from me!" Rebecca cried out as she sidestepped Laura's attempt at embrace. It no longer offered comfort, only confinement. Rebecca's evasion provoked Laura and, in her exhausted state, sent her into a rage.

  "Don't talk to me like that, I'm your mother! Now who the hell were you calling in the middle of the night?"

  "You're not my mother," Rebecca said, straight as an arrow into Laura's heart. Laura dropped to her knees and grabbed Rebecca so tight, she'd have to leave her limbs behind to break free of Laura's grasp.

  "You listen to me, you're not going anywhere but back to bed. And we're gonna see this thing through. You and me!"

  "Why did you lie to me?"

  "What did you want me to do? Tell you yes, your nightmares are real?"

  Laura held Rebecca till both of their eyes were overflowing with tears. Rebecca's emotions were a combination of fear and confusion; fear of the truth that awaited her, of seeing her mother as a stranger, of feeling lost - alone, and the confusion of the sudden rush of feelings for another family, emotions of painful loss - and reunion.

  Rebecca stopped trying to wriggle away, giving in. She blew saliva bubbles as she cried. Laura drew a deep breath, calming herself.

  "I'm sorry, baby. I know how hard this has all been for you; moving here, Daddy leaving, school, everything. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault." Laura pulled Rebecca to her breast, hugged her deeply, as if trying to draw her into her own body, shield her from the cruel world. "It's gonna be okay. You hear me? We're gonna get through this."

  "We?" Rebecca said, her voice full of disillusion. Rebecca broke free of her embrace, leaving Laura on her knees. Rebecca moved towards the front door. Laura watched incredulously as Rebecca reached for her jacket. She turned the doorknob, opening it to depart into the cold night, come what may.

  Laura saw red and leaped to her feet. Now it was a battle of wills. She stormed over and slammed the door shut so hard it shook the foundation of the rickety old house. "Stop it!" Laura shouted. The shock caused Rebecca to abruptly reverse course and head back towards the kitchen.

  Rebecca reached for the phone again and began to dial. Laura chased after her, tearing the phone from her hands. "Enough!" Laura tossed the phone across the room.

  Rebecca back peddled, turned, and fainted flat out onto the kitchen floor. Laura watched it happen in slow motion. She tried to lunge her arms out to catch her in time, but wasn't fast enough. She crumpled down beside Rebecca, whose face was pale and moist.

  She cradled her small head. "Rebecca? Rebecca, please speak, open your eyes."

  Laura could see Rebecca's eyes swim back and forth beneath her thin, swollen eyelids. Slowly they fluttered and her eyes opened. Rebecca looked at her mother, this time with familiarity, as if waking from a terrible nightmare.

  "My head hurts," Rebecca said softly.

  Laura looked into her eyes and saw her little girl again. Her
daughter was back, her spirit home from whatever dark place it had just journeyed. The universe had heard her cries and agreed to return Rebecca's soul to its rightful owner. Tears drained from Laura's very being and she let them release.

  "Oh God," Laura said, her voice raspy, hollow. "Please…give me the strength." She hugged Rebecca tightly.

  Upon hearing those words, Rebecca realized there was only one person that could help her; herself. She stared up at the ceiling, plotting her next move.

  CHAPTER 43

  The obstetrician glided the ultrasound across Patricia's petroleum slicked belly. At 34 weeks, the baby's features were clearly visible. Patricia looked at the monitor and swore her baby was waving back at her. "You see that, Bobby?"

  "I see it," Robert said, squeezing his wife's hand, relishing a moment they had waited so long to enjoy. All the years of disappointment, the miscarriages, the hoping. There was no stopping this miracle. Just a few more weeks.

  Martha, their obstetrician — who wore three pairs of glasses draped around her neck; one for reading, one for seeing, and one pair that darkened in sunlight — slid the sensor to the other side of Patricia's abdomen, who winced from the cold tickle.

  "You sure you don't wanna know the sex?"

  Patricia looked at her proud, wide-eyed husband, lost in the moment. "We've waited this long."

  "We want it to be a surprise," Robert said, finishing her sentence.

  "Like opening a present."

  "Well, he…or she, is doing excellent. Size, weight look normal for 34 weeks. You wanna hear the heartbeat?"

  They both nodded. The nurse turned a dial and the electronic squelch of the baby's heartbeat filled the room. Robert gently squeezed Patricia's hand in silent triumph.

  Martha lifted the device off her stomach and draped a towel across. She winked at Robert, who took the hint and began gently wiping his wife clean. Martha wheeled the machine over to the wall and grabbed a paper towel to wipe her hands. "I recommend you stay close to home from here on in."

  "Oh, we have our route mapped and everything," Patricia said. She pulled Robert close and planted a firm kiss on his lips, embarrassing him.

  On the drive home, Patricia had an overwhelming feeling of optimism; she couldn't wipe the smile from her face. The world was perfect for a moment. She looked across at Robert, driving extra cautiously, which made her smile widen even more. She placed her hand on his leg and tapped it a few times.

  Soon other thoughts began entering her mind, from baby proofing the furniture, to vacuuming the rug and other mundane everyday tasks. And they were having a baby shower in a few days. Then there was the packing for the move, calls to make, paperwork, mail forwarding. Slowly, reality started creeping back in.

  "You know, my mom's so upset about the move, she's treating this get together like a damn funeral," Patricia said.

  "She can always visit," Robert said, not really listening, deep in thoughts of his own.

  "You know she won't get on a plane." Robert pumped his eyebrows, victoriously. Patricia frowned and looked out the window. The clouds passed in front of the sun, graying out the blue sky. "You go see Jack?" Robert's smile lost its luster. She knew what that look meant. "It doesn't matter."

  Robert suddenly seemed preoccupied with driving, evasive. "This is a very positive moment in our lives. If your brother doesn't want to be a part of it, that's his loss. You tried."

  CHAPTER 44

  A string of bells hanging on the door rang out as Jack entered Rivera's Auto Repair Shop. It was lively inside, the busy sound of pneumatic tools and banging wrenches shouting back and forth. He leaned over the grimy counter to peer into the garage. A Hispanic man with thick salt and pepper hair, wearing faded red overalls, came in and placed a set of keys on a cork board hook. He swiped a customer's credit card through a reader and waited.

  "I'm looking for a Mr. Rivera?" Jack said.

  "I'm Rivera," he answered, not looking at Jack. The machine buzzed and spit out a receipt. He tore it off and stapled it to a form. When he turned to face Jack, Rivera could tell immediately he wasn't there to have his car repaired.

  "I'm looking for Victor Rivera," Jack said, his voice implying this older gentleman could not be the man he was looking for. He placed the picture of Victor and Carmen on the counter to emphasize his point.

  "Where you get this?"

  "You know him?"

  "He's my son."

  "Is he here?"

  "He's under the lift, he's working."

  "What's your name?" Jack asked.

  "Alfonse."

  "Alfonse, I need to speak to Victor."

  Alfonse wiped his mouth with his dirty hand, not moving. Jack couldn't tell if he was ignoring his request, or if he didn't understand. Jack flashed his detective's badge.

  "Can you ask him to come out, or do I need to go in and get him."

  Alfonse poked his head into the garage. "Victor!"

  "Qué?" a voice called out.

  "¡Vete aquí! Ahora!"

  Another patron entered the waiting area; an old caucasian man with ghostly white hair and pale skin, visible blue veins on his hands and neck.

  "Como esta, cabrón!" The man greeted Alfonse, clearly not his native tongue. Alfonse didn't return the greeting.

  "Your car is ready," Alfonse said flatly, not taking his eyes off Jack. The old man leaned on the counter and looked Jack over.

  "Ha, I told you if ya keep ripping people off you'd get busted. He uses gray market brake pads and tells you they're factory."

  "Shut up," Alfonse said.

  "You gonna run him in, copper?" the old man said, snickering.

  Jack leaned in to Alfonse. "Have Victor meet me out front."

  Jack stood outside in the cold. All the other storefronts were either auto repair or body work. A tiny boombox played merengue across the street at a car wash.

  Victor pushed open the door and came out with his shoulders back and chest out. Upon seeing the serious look on Jack's face, he relaxed his muscles and put away the bravado.

  "Victor?"

  "Whatchu want?"

  Jack flashed his badge, wasting no time with small talk. "Detective Jack Ridge, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

  "What about?"

  "Carmen Muniz."

  Victor blinked, confused. He looked at the ground and nodded a few times. Jack could read a person from their first reaction to confrontation. Victor's body language said he wasn't hiding guilt. It was regret. Sorrow. No doubt he'd read the papers.

  "You two knew each other."

  "Yeah, a little."

  "You were boyfriend and girlfriend."

  "No. I wanted that. She didn't."

  "She didn't want to be your boyfriend?"

  "No - she wasn't… we only dated a few weeks. She was a little loco."

  "How so?"

  "Had a relationship with God. You know?"

  "What do you remember about the night she disappeared?"

  "I figure she just took off. Mother had a loose wire. Shit. Just fucked up."

  "Were you with her the night she disappeared?"

  Victor got defensive. "No. I broke it off a few weeks before."

  "Why?"

  "Long time ago, man. Had no patience back then."

  "I don't understand," Jack said. Victor put his hands in his back pockets and twisted in place, trying to put it into words.

  "…She was a delicate flower."

  "How do you mean?"

  Victor rolled his eyes. "An appetizer, no fun. A…prude?"

  "Okay."

  Another worker poked his head out of the garage. "Victor, what weight?"

  "10 w 30."

  "He's got 40 in there now."

  "That's wrong. Too thick."

  "What?"

  "Gimme a minute!"

  Jack held up his fingers signaling two minutes. The man mumbled something under his breath and went back inside.

  "What else do you remember?"

  "She u
sed to paint… so beautiful. Damn, some fucked up shit, man."

  "Yeah, fucked up. Where did she like to go, hang out? Do you remember?"

  "Nowhere. School and back. I remember…she won some contest once, they hung her picture in the gallery at the Rec Center downtown. Dragged me there once."

  "Can you tell me where it is?"

  "Hamilton, next to the Library."

  "Thank you Victor, I won't hold you up any longer." Jack turned to leave.

  "Am I a suspect?" Victor called out to him. Jack looked him up and down.

  "Of course you are."

  CHAPTER 45

  Teresa Mason's apartment was on the third floor of a six story apartment building. There were five other tenants on her floor. She checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror, pulling her hair back to swap her cheap everyday earrings for gold ones — a gift from her mother at Christmas. She'd never worn them before.

  She checked her watch, Randall would be there any minute. She swished and spit her mouthwash, rubbing the static of her dress a few times, trying to straighten it out. No good, just made it worse.

  The doorbell rang. "Shit." She shut off the bathroom light and went to the front door, checking her reflection as she passed the hallway mirror. She pulled at her dress, trying to flatten it one last time, wanting to make a good first impression. Okay, ready or not. She moved to the door, her feet throbbing already in her high heel shoes.

  When she opened it, she saw nothing but flowers.

  "Teresa?"

  She craned her neck to see his face through the bouquet as he barged into her living room. "Randall?" The voice wasn't familiar.

  He extended his hand and revealed himself. Her expression turned to horror. He anticipated that, violently shoving the flowers into her face as he slammed the door closed, deftly covering her mouth as she attempted to scream. He smashed her atop the head with a closed fist.

  The last thought that pulsed through her brain as she fell unconscious was how could I have been so stupid?