Imaginary Things

by Andrea Lochen

  The problem was what to say. How could I appropriately express my concern for my son to her? And what did I really want to ask of her?

  “David’s had a rough morning,” I said, forcing a laugh. “I was just wondering if you could pay him a little extra attention today, and if you notice he seems upset or anything else out of the ordinary, would you be able to call me?”

  Miss Hanna looked like she was trying hard not to roll her eyes. She was probably pegging me for a helicopter mom who thought she deserved special privileges now that David was enrolled in the gifted and talented program. But to her credit, she patted my shoulder and smiled a close-lipped smile. “Sure thing. We’ll try to turn his bad day around.”

  “And you’ll call me if—”

  “Definitely, Ms. Jennings.” She set her chalk down on the metal tray and pointedly walked around me toward the children. Class would be starting any minute now. I needed to leave.

  David and the twins were gesturing excitedly and making what sounded like rocket ship sounds at their round table. He’s okay, I told myself. The panther and whatever fear it represented would blow over soon enough because David was making friends and gaining self-confidence. And next week, after meeting with Dr. Da Costa, maybe we’d have some concrete answers and coping strategies. We just needed to get through this day by day.

  I caught David’s eye and gave him a small wave as I backed toward the door. I love you, I mouthed to him. His eyes widened in panic for a second, but then that little boy look of brave resolution slid in place. He waved back and stared down fiercely at the table, as though he was trying not to cry.

  I sat at my desk like a zombie all morning, answering phone calls and taking messages on autopilot. Both Gisele and Janet asked me more than once if I was okay, and I waved them off, joking that I was still having a hard time adjusting to my little boy being in kindergarten. Janet, who had three older kids, nodded sympathetically. Normally I kept my cell phone in my purse on vibrate, but today it sat on my desk with the ringer turned on, in case Miss Hanna called me.

  By almost eleven, I still hadn’t received a call from the school, which I tried to take as a good omen. I wouldn’t be able to fully relax, though, until I’d heard from Duffy.

  Brandon came into the office in the best mood I’d ever seen him. He had just sold one of our most expensive properties, a six-bedroom house on the bluffs overlooking the lake, and he was in the mood to celebrate. He wanted to treat us all to lunch, and no matter how politely I declined, the three of them insisted I come along. Brandon swore that it was my friendly demeanor over the phone that had laid the important groundwork with the buyers, and that I deserved to reap the benefits of his sale too. Janet suggested we close up shop for the hour and turn on our away message on the phone. She offered to drive us all in her Lexus.

  I was uneasy, but I forced myself to act upbeat. My coworkers were trying to be nice and bond with me, and I appreciated it. Once I got my phone call from Duffy, it would be much easier to enjoy myself.

  It turned out they wanted to drive all the way to Salsburg to Ruby’s Diner. Apparently, it was Gisele’s favorite, and Brandon loved their meatloaf sandwiches and milkshakes. Go figure. The glass dessert case was full of baked goods, so I could tell Carly had already left for the day, which meant that thankfully I wouldn’t have to give her an update about Jamie. The counter was crowded, but only half of the booths were full, so we were seated immediately. I slid in next to Janet, across from Brandon. They were all highly entertained when our waitress, Lorraine Schiff, greeted me by name.

  “I keep forgetting you’re a Salsburg native!” Gisele said. She had grown up in Madison, and both Janet and Brandon were transplants from other parts of Wisconsin too.

  “I wouldn’t say I’m a native,” I said. “My grandparents live here, and I spent a couple of summers with them as a kid. I grew up mostly in Milwaukee.” I wasn’t sure why I was distancing myself. The last few weeks had made me really embrace small town life and view Salsburg as my home, but in the face of these well-dressed, Lexus-driving, college-educated real estate agents, I didn’t relish being associated with Lorraine Schiff and the rest of Salsburg.

  Our food arrived, and Duffy still hadn’t called. The clock on the wall said it was 12:00, and Winston normally picked David up at 11:30 on the dot. Had Duffy decided to make David’s lunch first and then call? Or had the news about the gifted and talented program somehow made her think I no longer needed these daily updates? I dug through my purse for my cell phone, just in case it had somehow switched to the silent or vibrate setting, but it wasn’t there.

  “Is everything okay?” Janet asked, picking at a wilty-looking salad (not Ruby’s specialty).

  “Yeah, fine. I just realized I forgot my cell phone at the office.” I pictured it, right on my desk where I’d left it like a total space cadet. Had Duffy left a message, surprised that I didn’t pick up? Maybe Miss Hanna had too. I squirmed in my seat. You’re being paranoid, I told myself. And obsessive. If there was a message from Duffy, it probably said something along the lines of, “Hi, Anna banana. David learned a new song at school today that he really wants to teach you. We’re having hot dogs and baked beans for lunch. See you when you get home.”

  “Do you need to make a call?” Gisele asked. “You can use mine.” She fished around in her handbag for it and then glanced down worriedly at the screen, where there were obviously a few messages waiting for her. “Hold on a sec. I just need to return this one call, and then it’s all yours. Anyway, we should probably be heading back to the office soon. I’ve got a 1:30 showing.” She hurried outside to make her call.

  Thank God, we would be leaving soon. Brandon took a long drink of his milkshake through a straw, clearly disappointed that his celebration was going to be cut short. I glanced down at my mostly untouched club sandwich and French fries.

  “So tell me about this house,” I said, trying to keep the conversation going and wanting to keep my mind off David. “I think it was listed before I started working here.” I felt bad for Brandon that lunch wasn’t working out as he’d expected.

  He took the bait readily and soon was describing the house’s huge master bath and the wood-burning fireplace in the family room. I tried to look suitably impressed and not distracted.

  Gisele returned, clicking loudly in her five-inch heels. “God, I hate diva clients. Sorry that took so long. Do you still need my phone?”

  I glanced down at the complicated-looking smart phone in her hand, and I realized that in this day of speed dial and cell phones, I didn’t even have my grandparents’ home phone number memorized. Was it 8821 or 2281? I couldn’t remember.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “It can wait until we get back.”

  On the drive back to Lawrenceville, the three agents were deep in discussion using some closing terminology I wasn’t yet familiar with. I tried to follow along but found I was too anxious to focus, so I looked out the window and thought about Jamie. I remembered what he’d said to me after we’d made love for the first time: All I needed to hear you say was us. I’ve been waiting for you for a long time. I think I can be patient a bit longer. Without my realizing it, he had made my life start to make sense in a way it hadn’t in years. I just hoped I wasn’t too late and things between us weren’t totally irreparable now.

  “Whose car is that?” Brandon asked as we pulled into the office.

  I’d been so deep in thought I hadn’t even realized we’d arrived. I unbuckled my seat belt and stretched my neck to look at the car in question. It was my grandparents’ little beige car. Or at least, it looked like it, but it couldn’t possibly be, right? Why would Winston be at my office on a Wednesday afternoon? I scrambled out of Janet’s Lexus, and that’s when I saw my grandmother. She was knocking in vain on the locked front door. My surprise doubled at the sight of her. Duffy, here in Lawrenceville, when she was so terrified of leaving her little cocoon of safety? Why? It set off a red flag immediately.

  When she h
eard our car doors slam, she whirled around and saw me too. She looked like a drowning woman. More anguished than her last panic attack, more anguished than when David had disappeared at the beauty supply store…

  David. Where was he, if not with her?

  My legs began to shake, and I steadied myself on the side of the car.

  “Anna, I’ve been calling your cell phone and the office for the past hour,” Duffy called out to me half-accusingly, half-apologetically.

  “I forgot my phone. We went out to lunch.” My whole body was starting to tremble, and I couldn’t make my lips speak the question I was so dreading the answer to. What’s wrong? Where is David? Somewhere in my peripheral vision, I could see Janet, Gisele, and Brandon exchanging confused looks, but like me, they were frozen in place. No one made a motion to unlock the office door. They could sense something was terribly wrong too.

  “So you don’t have him?” Duffy pleaded pathetically. “He’s not here with you? I thought maybe—that was my last—”

  I stared back at her, shaking my head slowly, reluctant to understand her painful meaning.

  She doubled over against the wrought-iron banister, and I feared she might collapse, but I couldn’t bring myself to move toward her. “Winston went to pick him up … 11:30 as usual…” Stifled sobs and gasps punctuated each piece of her story. “Wasn’t there … teachers couldn’t find him … thought maybe someone else had picked him up…”

  With great effort, she straightened herself and raised her platinum blond head. “He’s gone, Anna. David’s gone.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  There were ten missed calls on my cell phone and five new messages. The office machine was blinking too, but I couldn’t bring myself to listen to Duffy’s distraught progression of voicemails, each one more frantic than the next. The one time I had accidentally left my cell phone behind—how cruelly, bitterly ironic.

  Somehow Duffy was able to convey to me that Winston was at the school talking with the police. Somehow I was able to persuade Duffy that she couldn’t ride with me, that she needed to stay strong and drive her own car because we’d certainly need it. Somehow we were both able to make it to Port Ambrose Elementary, where there were indeed police cars parked out front. Those official-looking cars, connected with grisly scenes of murder and other ghastly crimes, were here because David was missing.

  Missing. Somehow the word seemed worse than Duffy’s use of “gone.” It brought to mind those mailers and grocery store bulletins with the smiling, ghostly faces of missing children on them. Kidnapped children, runaways, victims of molestation and abuse. I pushed those images away as fast as I could. David wasn’t missing. In the foggy time since Duffy had showed up at the office until now, I had convinced myself that David had only wandered off, like he’d done at the strip mall. He was probably only hiding somewhere. Maybe the panther had frightened him, and he’d concealed himself somewhere very clever. The teachers just hadn’t looked hard enough. I was his mother; I would find him immediately.

  “Is this the mother?” I heard one of the police officers ask as I approached. I was The Mother. The Mother of The Missing Boy. Among the blur of faces was Winston’s haggard, grief-stricken one. He reached for me, and I submitted to his strong embrace.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “Everything’s going to be okay. We’re going to find him.” He held me as if I were waking up from a nightmare, and I sincerely wished that I was.

  All I wanted to do was go to David’s classroom and call him out from wherever he was hiding, but the police wouldn’t let me. They asked me a never-ending stream of bewildering questions. What had David been wearing that morning? What size shoe did he wear? When was the last time he’d gone to the dentist? Was there anyone else in the family who might have picked him up from school? Any close family friends that David would’ve trusted? Why had I asked his teacher to keep an extra close eye on him that morning? Did I have any reason to believe he would go missing?

  There was that word again. It threatened to capsize me if I dwelled too long on what it meant, as well as why the cops were asking about his dental records. There was no way to explain the imaginary panther that had been tormenting my son, much less my bizarre ability to see it, so I kept my mouth shut and muttered something about David having a bad dream the previous night.

  Finally, Winston and one of the police officers escorted me to David’s classroom, where Miss Hanna was sitting with her head in her hands, looking even worse than I suspected I did. She started to cry harder when I came in, blubbering out apologies, but I didn’t have time for her. I had to find David.

  “David?” I called, methodically searching the room. Behind the play car. Under Miss Hanna’s desk. “David?” In the nook of cubbies for coats, boots, and hats. I flung open the doors of the pretend fridge and stove, which were much too small for David to hide inside.

  “What about the playground?” I asked. “Has anyone looked for him out there?”

  Someone, the police officer, maybe, replied in the affirmative, but no one was going to deny The Mother of The Missing Boy a chance to look around the playground. No one wanted to deny me my last sliver of a hope.

  Outside, the day was misleadingly sunny and bright. Since the superintendent had canceled school for the rest of the afternoon, the playground was eerily abandoned, making all the brightly colored equipment—the slides, jungle gyms, and monkey bars—seem haunted. The playground looked securely fenced in; the only entrance or exit seemed to be through the school. One side faced the parking lot and the other two sides were bordered by a small forest. I remembered how David had told me the panther had watched him at recess. Had I been misunderstanding him all along? Had he not been talking about the imaginary panther, but some stranger who was hanging around the parking lot, peering in at the children? I shuddered at the thought.

  “The twins are here,” Duffy said. I wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing next to me. Had she just walked up or had she been there all along? “Their mother says she thinks one of them saw something funny at recess. The police are talking to them now.”

  I didn’t want Maddox or Mason to have seen “something funny” at recess. I wanted it all to be just some huge misunderstanding. I wanted David to pop out from behind the merry-go-round with his dinosaurs beside him, like they’d done at the dollar store. I wanted to have the luxury of being angry at him for scaring us so badly. I wanted to forgive him quickly and shower him with hugs and kisses. I wanted to buy him a stupid robot action figure. Ten robot action figures.

  “Why don’t we go inside and have a seat?” Duffy was suggesting from somewhere very far away. “We can get you something to drink, and then we can find out if the police officers have learned anything new.” I let her shepherd me inside to what must have been the teachers’ lounge, not because I wanted to sit down and have a drink, but because I was all out of ideas.

  David’s principal, Mr. Crane, whom I had met only once and briefly at that, made a fresh pot of coffee for Duffy and me. He seemed overly solicitous, and I wondered if he was worried I was going to sue the school for losing my son. For letting my son disappear. For letting him get kidnapped.

  I decided to listen to my cell phone messages. Anything would be better right now than the terrible refrain in my head, the guilt-inspiring chorus of “if only’s.” If only I had listened to David more closely…If only I had pressed him for more details…If only I hadn’t made him go to school today…If only we’d gone to the park instead…If only I’d followed my gut when I felt like something was wrong…The first two messages were from Duffy. The next was from Mr. Crane, sounding very professional and grave. The fourth and fifth were from Duffy again, the hysteria in her voice nearing a breaking point. I deleted the messages and closed my eyes.

  In my mind’s eye, I replayed the morning’s events, searching for clues that weren’t there, and then rewound to the night before and the promise I had made to David. You don’t have to be scared, I’d sa
id. I’m not going to let it hurt you. I’m not going to let anyone ever hurt you. I had broken my promise to him; I hadn’t been able to protect him at all. David had told me that the panther wasn’t under his bed anymore, that it was waiting for him at school, and now he was gone.

  I felt sick as I imagined the panther with its thick, bluish-black fur and green reflective eyes. I remembered the last of David’s drawings that Miss Hanna had shown me, the cartoonish one of the panther, and how it had felt familiar to me. I struggled to pinpoint where I had seen it—that sinewy black silhouette; that long curving tail; that ferocious, gaping maw; those stark white claws hooked as if sinking into skin…Skin? Suddenly it all made sense.

  I conjured up Patrick before me, the way he’d looked the first day I met him. His dark, doleful eyes and the black tattoos covering his chest, arms, and back. A wild mustang, a hawk, a Chinese dragon, a Celtic cross, and a panther. The panther was inked on his left bicep and its long tail snaked down his forearm. David’s drawing had looked familiar to me because it was a fairly good reproduction of Patrick’s tattoo.

  Patrick was the panther. He was the one haunting David.

  He was the one making it hard for David to sleep. He was the one making David scared to go to school. David had seen Patrick, whom he didn’t recognize as his father, watching him from the parking lot at recess. The black panther tattoo had clearly made an impression on him, and that’s how Patrick had manifested himself in David’s imagination. As a scary, muscular cat who wanted something from David and was always hungrily watching him. That’s what he’d been trying to tell me. That’s what the panther had been a warning of. But I hadn’t figured it out in time, and I had failed him. I had failed my son, and now maybe it was too late to get him back.