Gone

My son Jason was gone, poof, just like that. Like a magic trick or a dream. One minute he is looking at me, his brown hair messy, his mouth slightly agape, and then he is gone. Just like that.

It started with the signs that I plastered on every telephone pole, every exposed wall, any trees I could find, and the windows of supermarkets, dry cleaners, and drugstores. I hung them everywhere. The right wording was tough to come up with, as was which picture to use. "He’s gone," might be true, but does that say anything? Do you write "missing," is that strong enough? "Kidnapped?" Is that even accurate? Do you offer a reward for a child? Who wouldn’t want to help you find a child? Still, might that one right person pay a little more attention knowing that $5000 could be had by doing so? Aren’t these kids some times walking around in plain sight? And what of the picture, if there is a shot where for whatever reason Jason looks a little older, is that better then a shot where he looks exactly like he did the day he went missing? Should the picture show him in the same shirt he was wearing that day? Could he still be wearing that shirt?

It was just a normal day. We were going to the mall. Jason wanted sneakers. We talked about going to the movies. It is always crowded at the mall, always, and I told him not to wander away from me. We had to stick together, stay close. You see those families with their kids on those leashes, and you laugh at them, they’re so controlling, so backwards, and unable to set limits. But then you’re at the zoo or the mall, and you start to think that it isn’t such a bad idea, they can’t get away, and that’s good right? It’s all so irrational and crazy, and I know that, but you worry, and while you don’t want to, it’s impossible not to, the world isn’t safe, it just isn’t.

My memories of the day Jason was born are so vivid. It was June and it was hot - sticky and humid. My wife Jessie was passed her due date and we had packed our daughter Molly into her stroller and gone out for a very long walk thinking that might move things a long. We walked and walked, Molly dozing on and off and singing Rock - a - Bye Baby over and over to herself - "And when the bough breaks the cradle will fall and down will come baby cradle and all."

Nothing seemed to be happening. But later that night the contractions started. We left Molly with her babysitter and went to the hospital. I had the option to be there in the delivery room during the birth, but passed, too scary, and too messy for me. I sat out there in the lobby waiting, wondering what my son might be someday, an astronaut, a fireman, maybe a Senator?

And then I heard a cry, loud and strong, powerful. It was clearly a baby, but it couldn’t be ours I thought, how could a newborn sound like that? The nurse then walked out of the delivery room and led me in to see Jessie and Jason. It had been him crying. It seemed impossible, but it was him, there he was, like a little ball of clay, ready to be anything and do anything, the whole world awaiting him.

I eventually finished my sign. Jason’s picture was in the middle, a color shot, a school photo, so cute, he’s wearing a little striped polo shirt, his hair poking out around his ears, and I wrote, "Missing, if you know anything, please call, $5000 reward." I wasn’t expecting much, but I went neighborhood to neighborhood anyway, stapling and taping the signs on everything I could and then placing them under people’s windshield wipers as well. I didn’t know the best way to do this, I just knew that you don’t know what might shake out, you just don’t, and so you have to keep trying.

Jessie did not want to go to the mall that day, and I don’t hold that against her. Maybe if there had been two of us then things would have been different, but it’s not like she knew what was coming or wished for it. She was tired, she didn’t want to go out, and she is much too easy blame for this. My mother once told me that it’s so easy to blame wives and mothers for everything because society is only too eager to do so. They are too nurturing, too distant, too angry, too unemotional, and on and on. Truth be told, Jessie told me that she didn’t want us to go to the mall either.

"You’re always going, going, going," she said, "and maybe you don’t need a break, but that doesn’t mean that Jason doesn’t."

I ignored that and I ignored her. He was my buddy, my best friend, and we had things to do. She didn’t want us to go, we did, and he’s gone. No one’s at fault here, right?

I didn’t want to stop with just the signs. I had pictured milk cartons, a story on the news, maybe even a press conference. We might have had a candlelight vigil and John Walsh might have done a show. But no, no one wanted to talk about the story. No one wanted to help. They tried to tell me there was no story, what was done, was done. Are we that jaded though? Is there so much loss, so much pain that these stories no longer mean anything? Are they not sexy enough? What does one have to do to bring attention to a wrong? I tried everything. I called. I e-mailed. I knocked on doors. I quit my job so I could focus all of my attention on it. But what did it get me, sad smiles and pity. I wanted action. How do you get action?

The mall was crowded. Very crowded, with kids, adults, and people, people everywhere, all shapes, sizes, and colors, and all on the move, like a blur, a mass of people coming from somewhere and going somewhere else, all in their own worlds, as were we. But I was paying attention. I was. No, I couldn’t hold Jason’s hand every moment we were there, and yes I had to chase him when he ran into the pet store, K-B toys, and then the arcade, but I was doing what I was supposed to do. Even when the blonde walked by, the one in the skirt, the one I was distracted by for just a moment. Yes, I did get distracted for that one moment, but it was only a moment. Still, when I looked back he was gone, and that is when the panic set in.

For some time it wasn’t clear to Jessie and I that we would have another child. The three of, Molly, Jessie, and I were such a good team. We had our routines, our patter and haunts, it worked. And it was enough, it felt like enough, and life felt rich to us. Still, we hadn’t made a definitive decision either way, and we didn’t talk about it, we just were what were, and maybe some day we wouldn’t be. One night laying in bed Jessie looked at me smiling.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey to you," I said.

"This is pretty good isn’t it?" she said.

"Yeah, I think so," I said smiling.

"I love you," she said.

"Right back at you," I said.

"Very romantic," she said.

"Thank you," I said, "I try."

"Nice," she said.

"What’s up?" I said.

"I think we need to have another child," she said.

"Ok," I said, "why?"

"Because if something happened to Molly," she said, "I couldn’t bare having no child here at all. I could have maybe not had any children to begin with, but now that I know what it’s like, it’s too scary having only one."

And I knew exactly what she was saying.

"Let’s do it," I said.

And so we did.

The constant searching took its toll on my marriage of course, anything that you’re so singularly focused on is going to do that.

"It’s enough," Jessie said.

"No, no its not," I said, "how can it ever be enough?"

"Because Jason’s not coming back," Jessie said, "and the posters aren’t bringing him back. You know that."

"I don’t know that," I said, "I don’t know anything anymore, I’m lost."

"I know," Jessie said, "and you need help, let’s get help."

"So, what," I said, "so we can move on? Is that what you want?"

"Yes," Jessie said.

"No, no moving on," I said, "you fucking move on."

She didn’t though, not initially, but eventually she had to go. She had Molly to think about and I couldn’t think about her. I couldn’t think about any of them, just him.

I knew Jason couldn’t have gotten far. I also knew that if someone grabbed him he would put up a fight and he would be easy to find. I started looking for him and I found a security guard. He was calm. Too calm I thought. He said it happened all the time and I need not worry. Need not worry, I wanted to scream, lose your kid and tell me what that’s like. My throat was so dry. And my heart was pounding so much. Fuck. Fuck me. I had looked away for a moment. It was only a moment, but I would never look away from him again. I would never take my eyes off of him or let him out of my sight. I would never take that chance again. Not with him. Not after this. We started to search. I tried to breath.

I find myself in a neighborhood I’ve been in before. I can even see some of my flyers laying in the gutters up and down the street I’m on. I try not to take this personally, because it’s probably the wind or the neighborhood kids who are responsible. I begin to methodically place my flyers under the wipers of each parked car. Someone will know something. They have to.

And then I hear a voice. Some one is telling me not to put out my flyers. The voice is coming from behind me. I turn around and see a guy a few years younger then me. I will talk to him. He will understand. I tell him that I need to put them out, that I need to find my kid, and that he can appreciate that, right?

He says he’s sorry to hear about Jason, but that this is like the tenth flyer I’ve put on his windshield, "and enough’s enough already." He’s being friendly, and placating, but no I say to him, enough will never be enough, what I do I need to do to convince him of that? He looks at me oddly, like he’s scared, and I don’t get that. I’m being calm too. Just like him.

He tells me he’d like me to leave. He sounds nervous, not friendly at all. No I tell him, I can’t, and why can’t he just let me be? He walks towards me. I punch him in the face. Hard. And then I punch him again. He falls to the ground and screams. I kick him. He’s still screaming. Please be quiet I think to myself, please stop screaming. Others start to scream. There are sirens, just like the last time. And then things start to get hazy.

We searched the whole mall and then security wanted to stop. They made accusations. They start to act like there was no kid with me at all. But there was. We had gone together and now he was gone. Maybe he was too scared to respond to the announcements. Or maybe he couldn’t hear them. But Jason was there, I knew it. We just had to find him.

I was at work and Jessie was maybe two months pregnant with Jason. She called and said that they had run a test, that there might be a complication, it could be something, or nothing, but they wanted to look more closely and had suggested we get an epidural just to be sure. There were risks with the epidural, but we would know more. We had to decide sooner then later though. Did we want to know more?

"So," Jessie said, "do we want to know more?"

"I don’t know," I said, "I’m not sure I’m prepared to know more, it’s a little too much for me to think about."

"Well you need to know," Jessie said, "and if we do get it we need to know what we will do with the information."
"What does that mean?" I said.

"If we don’t like what we hear, we’ll have to decide if we are going to do something," Jessie said, "are we prepared to do something?"

"Are we even prepared to talk about this," I said, "I’m not sure I can imagine doing something."

"I know, it’s fucked-up, and so different when you already have a kid, I hate this, but…," Jessie said trailing off.

"I don’t know," I said, "but I don’t think we’ll be able to not get the test, and so if we get the test, we kind of know what we’d have to do anyway, don’t we?"

"Yeah," she said.

We got quiet. We sat for awhile. We got the test. Everything was all right.

I am in a courtroom. Jessie is there, as are Molly and some friends. All are crying. Sir, do you know why you’re here this judge says to m e. I’m not sure, I say, and I’m not, not entirely. You assaulted someone the judge says, do you remember that? Not really I say. And I don’t.

I didn’t think so the judge says, and then he says that he is ordering a psychological assessment, hospitalization, and observation for me for no less then 90 days. That’s fine I say, but I need to find Jason. I need to do that first. No sir, he says kindly, there will be no more of that. I begin to panic. Again.

What, I say, this is all so confusing, no, no, I must find him. I must. Sir, I’m sorry the judge says, but your son Jason was hit by a car twelve months ago, he’s not missing, he’s dead sir, and we’re going to get you some help. Dead? No, how, no, he’s just lost, lost at the mall I say. That’s right isn’t it? We were at the mall, right? No sir, I hear the judge say, that was several years ago. And you found him.

I did? I did. He had been at McDonalds, eating French fries with a woman who had found him wandering around the mall. They had sat down together and decided to wait for me because Jason had told her that I would find him. He was sure of it he had said, because that was the kind of dad I was.