by Greta Boris
The doctor wanted to see if this was an anomaly, or if there was a pattern. The diary would be important to present to CPS as well. Olivia needed Fred to see she was on top of the problem. She looked at the pages now as she sat in the waiting room of the CHOC center in Mission Hospital.
Thursday, December 14th - Brian became confused and disoriented. Tried to leave school. When a teacher stopped him, he wasn’t sure where he was.
Friday, December 15th - Brian told Mrs. Margolis, his teacher, that Crackers, his dog, had given birth to a litter of puppies the night before. When Mrs. Margolis said she’d thought Crackers was male, Brian became visibly disturbed. He approached her several times during the remainder of the day, asking if he could leave the room to call his father. He wanted to tell him they were wrong about the sex of the dog.
Saturday, December 16th - Brian went to his father’s during the day and returned home at night. No incidents.
Sunday, December 17th - Brian spent the day with his dad again and returned home at night. Neither his father, nor I noticed any unusual behavior.
Monday, December 18th - There were no incidents.
Tuesday, December 19th - Brian wandered into the wrong classroom in the late afternoon, sat in an empty chair, and watched the instructor marking papers for several minutes before he was noticed. The teacher brought him to the school nurse, who called me.
Wednesday, December 20th - A male teacher ran into the boy’s restroom when he heard a scream. Brian stood against a wall and directed the teacher’s attention to one of the stalls. He claimed there was a dead kitten in the toilet. The toilet was empty.
There had been another incident after she’d entered Wednesday’s record. Olivia brought Brian home, called the doctor and made an appointment for Friday morning. He went to bed early, complaining of fatigue. At about 11:45 that night, she was awakened by his screams.
She ran into his room and found him kneeling in his bed, eyes wide open, and gibbering about an armored man with an ax. She held him while he slapped at imaginary monsters, and waited for Davy to come. It seemed she’d done nothing but wait since.
They’d waited in the ER until three AM for Brian to be seen. A four-car pileup had come in an hour before she, Davy and Brian had gotten there. Bleeding patients get top priority. By the time anyone could see Brian he was sound asleep with his head on Davy’s shoulder. The young attending doctor had to wake him to examine him. After hearing the saga of the past weeks and talking to Dr. Gallagher on the phone, he had Brian admitted.
Returning to the CHOC center was a homecoming of sorts. The staff welcomed Olivia like a long lost cousin. She’d lived a lifetime in its rooms once.
It was now 2:15 in the afternoon. She’d been waiting in the appropriately named waiting room to hear the results of the battery of tests performed on her son. Her life had taken on the familiar unreality of an isolation tank. She was suspended in the ebb and flow of medical staff, other children’s waiting family members, and cups of tepid coffee. The Fishbowl, Tom, Sage, Proctor everything that had happened the past two and a half months seemed like a dream.
Her only lifeline to the world outside the hospital walls was Davy. He gave her hope the passage of time hadn’t been an illusion. Brian had been better. She had been optimistic about their future. She held onto the knowledge that the last time she’d been here, she’d been alone. Davy had been drowning in his own alcohol-soaked despair and unable to help her. Now he was here.
Dr. Gallagher entered the room. Davy stood, but Olivia’s knees were too weak to hold her. The doctor shook his gray head, and she braced herself for bad news.
“I can’t find anything wrong with him,” he said. She wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “Passed all the tests with flying colors.”
“Then why the hallucinations, the memory lapses?” Davy asked.
Dr. Gallagher answered, but Olivia couldn’t hear him. She was still trying to process his words, I can’t find anything wrong with him. Nothing wrong with him. A tentative joy bubbled up inside her. Nothing wrong.
Was that good news, or bad? Nothing wrong certainly sounded good. Every mother wants to hear test results are negative and their child has a clean bill of health. But if nothing was wrong, why was he was losing his grip on reality again?
“I don’t think they were hallucinations in the strictest sense. I believe Brian is confabulating again—filling in some memory lapses with segments from his dreams. Now that’s a guess, but it makes sense. We know he’s struggled with TGAs—incidents of temporary global amnesia—since the accident, but he’s never hallucinated.
“However, there’s a lot about the brain we don’t understand. Sometimes healing is three steps forward and two steps back. I’d like to prescribe an antidepressant, anti-anxiety drug. Very short term. Just to see if we can get him to focus, sleep soundly at night. Maybe we can reverse this thing. Let’s keep a close watch. Keep the diary going. Barring a big change, I’ll see him in a couple of weeks.”
The joy in Olivia’s chest burst into full flower. Davy enveloped her in a bear hug and lifted her off the floor. “Let’s go get him and take him home,” he said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
OLIVIA LEANED OVER the passenger side of her car for a better view of the St. Barnabas students grouped on the sidewalk waiting to be picked up. She’d kept Brian home on Thursday, but today was the last day of school before Christmas break, and his class was having a party. He’d wanted to go.
She didn’t see Brian, but the assembly of kids were a blur of blue and white uniforms from where she sat. There was a long line of minivans and SUVs in front of her. She wished she’d arrived earlier, before the crush of parents arrived.
Brian hadn’t had an episode since he’d been released from the hospital, but worry still dogged her. She didn’t like the subdued behavior the prescription had brought on. He’d slept a lot the past two days, ate little, and talked even less.
Seven cars later, Olivia pulled up to the curb in front of the school and scanned the children’s faces. Brian’s wasn’t among them. A ripple of concern passed over her. She rolled down her window, leaned out and addressed the traffic monitor—a pretty mom volunteer with almond shaped eyes whose slender frame swam in the orange uniform vest. “Has Mrs. Margolis’s class been dismissed? I don’t see my son.”
“I don’t know the fourth grade students,” the monitor said, an apology in her voice. “My daughter is in kindergarten.”
Olivia didn’t recognize any of the children still grouped on the sidewalk. Most of them looked older than Brian. A horn honked behind her. “Why don’t you make a left up ahead and park in the teacher’s lot? Just tell the monitor there Chihiro said to move the cones for you.” Two more horns sounded behind Olivia as she pulled away from the curb.
She parked at the end of the teacher lot and headed toward the building, keeping an eye out for Brian as she walked. Even though the scream in the bathroom and the nightmare were more dramatic than his attempt to leave campus two weeks ago, it was the wandering that upset her most. She’d worried ever since he might try it again, and succeed.
She climbed the stone steps of the school two at a time, weaving her way between the high school students pouring through the front doors. The high school and junior high dismissed a half hour after elementary school in the hopes of staggering pickup times and reducing the traffic jam. Brian should have been at the curb thirty minutes ago.
She reached the second floor and strode to his classroom. Mrs. Margolis looked up as Olivia entered. “Olivia. Hi.” Her voice lilted upward in an unspoken question.
“I’m looking for Brian. He wasn’t at pickup.”
“He left,” the teacher looked at her watch, “at least twenty minutes ago. I dismissed class a little late, but he had plenty of time to get to the curb.”
“He wasn’t there.”
Adrienne Margolis’s mouth tightened into a thin line. She was aware of Brian’s problems and had agreed to help keep a
close eye on him. She shouldn’t have let him walk out alone. “Have you checked the principal’s office? If anything happened between here and the exit, that’s where he’d be taken. There or the infirmary.”
Olivia jogged to the stairwell and up another flight. She shouldn’t have trusted Adrienne Margolis. The woman’s attention was always on the bright students, the easy students. The difficult ones weren’t on her radar screen. Olivia’s heartrate rose both from anger and the sudden exertion of the stairs. She was breathing hard by the time she opened the door to Art’s office.
Millie Abraham, personal assistant to St. Barnabas principals for almost as long as the school had been in existence, sat behind an aged mahogany desk the same color as her skin. “Olivia.” A smile flashed, then faded when she saw Olivia’s expression. “What’s the matter?”
“I can’t find Brian.” Olivia said, hoping her words didn’t sound as desperate as she felt.
“You went to his class—”
“Yes.” Olivia interrupted. “Mrs. Margolis thought he might be here.”
“I’m sorry, dear.” Millie shook her head, sympathy in her eyes. “I’ll let Art know. We can alert the traffic team. They all have walkie-talkies. Did you try the nurse’s office?”
Back to the stairwell, down three flights this time, and right toward the cafeteria. By the time Olivia reached the infirmary, she was in a rolling sweat. The school nurse wasn’t at her desk. Olivia crossed the short hall behind it and pushed a partially opened door to reveal a small exam room.
Nurse Phillips, a plump middle-aged woman in scarlet scrubs, pressed a tissue to the nose of a boy lying on the table. Her head snapped around, indignation written on her face. “Can I help you?”
Olivia was past propriety. “I’m looking for my son.”
With deliberate movements, the nurse placed the boy’s hand on the tissue, patted it and said, “Hold onto that. It’ll stop in a minute.” She moved in slow motion into the hall and closed the door behind her. She turned toward Olivia, crossed her arms over her ample bosom and said, “Now, what can I do for you? Mrs. Richards, isn’t it?”
It was Ms. Richards, but Olivia didn’t bother correcting her. “I’m looking for my son, Brian. He was in here a couple of weeks ago.”
“I remember. He was confused about where he was.” She offered Olivia a small, sympathetic smile. “How is he doing?”
“Up and down,” Olivia said, her words brisk. “I need to find him. He wasn’t at the curb.”
“Have you checked his class—”
“Yes.” Olivia cut her short and bolted out the infirmary door. Why did everyone keep asking her if she’d gone to his classroom? Did they think she was an idiot? She ran half way down the hall, then stopped. She had no idea where she was going. Think. Think. Where might Brian go?
He left his room with the rest of the class but never made it to the curb. Somewhere in the building? Or, he had gone to the curb, but didn’t stop there? Had he decided to go home on his own? It was a long walk, a couple of miles, but they’d done it together once or twice when her car was in the shop. She stood, torn by indecision. Should she get into the car and take the route they’d walked? Or stay and search the school grounds?
“Olivia.” A reluctant voice broke into her chaotic thoughts. Tom stood several yards away, a stack of files in his arms.
A wave of emotions washed over her, guilt, longing, regret, and, when she saw the look of concern on his face, relief. Even though they’d broken up, even though she knew he wasn’t right for her, for her son, she was drawn to his strength. “Have you seen Brian?”
He hesitated, then came toward her. “No. I haven’t.”
“I can’t find him anywhere.” Olivia choked back a sob. Her hands flew to her face. She heard the files hit the floor with a slap and felt arms encircle her.
“Tell me. What’s happening?” he said.
“He wasn’t at pickup.” She allowed herself to collapse into the solid wall of his chest for a short moment, pushed gently away and wiped her eyes with her hand. “And before you ask me, he wasn’t in his classroom, Art’s office, or the infirmary.”
“I heard someone stopped him from wandering off a while ago. Do you know where they found him? Which way he was going?”
“No. Who would know that? That’s a good idea. A place to start.”
Olivia called Davy while Tom took charge of contacting all the members of the traffic team. No one remembered who stopped Brian the last time he’d tried to leave, or where he’d been exactly, but many dropped what they were doing to come help with the search. Volunteers were sent out to walk the campus perimeters and the neighborhoods that bordered the school.
Davy arrived within fifteen minutes of Olivia’s call. She met him in the parking lot. “Any word?” he said. The agony on his face shocked her into reality. She’d gotten so involved in the logistics of finding Brian, the angst of losing him had been shoved into a dark inner corner.
She blinked, trying to clear her eyes of tears. “The police are patrolling the area. He couldn’t have gotten far on foot.”
“What about an AMBER Alert?” Davy ran a hand through his hair.
“They don’t activate AMBER Alerts for kids who wander off, only for ones they suspect have been taken.”
“They don’t know if someone’s taken him or not.” His voice rose an octave. “Kids who wander off on their own make great targets for predators.”
“Don’t say that.” She put both hands on her chest to stop the panic thudding through her.
“I’m sorry.” Davy hugged her hard. “I didn’t mean that. I’m just frantic. I don’t know what I’m saying.” He broke away and started toward the school. Olivia had to jog to keep up with him.
“We’ve set up an emergency station in Art’s office. Millie is organizing teachers, volunteers, even some high school students to look for Brian,” she said between breaths.
Based on the somber look on Millie’s face when they reached the office, there’d been no news. Several of the children from his class had been called, but none had noticed where Brian had gone after they’d been released. He hadn’t made any close friends since the accident, and his old ones had fallen away. He didn’t have a buddy to walk out of class with. Olivia vowed she’d change that when they found him.
She sat in a chair across from Millie’s desk, stared at the phone and chewed her fingernails to stubs while Davy paced and pulled his hair into spikes. A walkie-talkie crackled to life. Millie answered it.
“Sun’s setting in about an hour. I’m heading home,” a female voice on the other end said. “I’m sorry, but I have to get my kids from the sitter.”
“No problem, Kathy. Thanks for all your hard work.”
“Keep me posted. I’m worried about the little guy.”
“Will do.” Millie gave Olivia a sad smile.
Every few minutes another call came through to let Millie know someone else was giving up the search for the night. Each contact was another stab of pain. Tom was the last to call. He asked to speak to Olivia. Davy looked at her, a troubled question in his eyes. She ignored him.
“I’m so sorry. I have a commitment I can’t get out of, but I’ll only be gone for a couple of hours,” Tom said.
“No. That’s okay. I appreciate all you’ve done.”
“We’ll find him, Olivia. It’s only a matter of time.”
“I know.” She said the words, but was no longer sure she believed them. A movie had been looping on instant replay in her mind for the past hour. It began with Brian’s birth, the cord around his neck and the blue hue of his skin. The pediatrician saying, “It was a close call.”
Scene two: Brian four years old in the arms of a uniformed officer with a stern face. “Lady, you need to keep better tabs on your kid.”
Pan to Brian, age seven, covered in mud, being led by another child’s mother back to the birthday party in the park after an agonizing forty-five minutes. “He was by the stream.”
The office door opened. She pivoted toward it hoping for one crazy minute to see her son walk through dragging his gym bag, crooked cowlick pointing to heaven, but it was only Art. The slump of his shoulders told her Brian hadn’t been found.
“The police are out there looking now. I’m just in for a cup of coffee and a jacket. It’s getting cold.” A pang of regret crossed his features as soon as he said the words. Cold. It was getting cold. Brian didn’t have a jacket. Typical Southern California winter, the days were warm, but the temperatures began to drop as soon as the sun went down. The thought clutched her heart and squeezed.
Davy spun toward her. “Crackers.”
Olivia’s mind leaped to the day Crackers trailed Brian into the bushes by Davy’s community pool. “Can he...”
“I don’t know. He’s young. He hasn’t had a lot of training, but we’ve been working him. It’s better than standing here doing nothing.”
“I’ll walk you to the car.” Anxiety made Olivia restless.
“I’ll call your cell if there’s—” Millie’s words were cut off by the slam of the office door.
CHAPTER FORTY
BY THE TIME Davy returned with Crackers it was dark, and the school was deserted except for Art and the night maintenance man, Alejandro. Art had asked Alejandro to hold off cleaning so he wouldn’t wash away any trail that might still exist. The four of them assembled outside Brian’s classroom on the second floor. The empty hallway yawned on either side, cold and silent.
“Do you have something of his?” Davy said.
“Yeah. His gym bag was in my car.” Olivia pulled a soiled t-shirt out of her tote bag. Davy commanded Crackers to sit and offered him the shirt. The dog sniffed daintily at first, then with more excitement. His ears picked up. His tail thumped the linoleum floor. “He smells Brian. Don’t you, boy?” Crackers whined in response. The sound seemed to increase in volume as it bounced off the cinderblock walls, then echoed through the corridors.
