Bottled Abyss (15 page)

Can’t answer—everything disintegrates and slides down, fluid pushes me over rough moving water—drowning, salt water forces into my lungs, balloons them, bursts them—keep moving on, nature’s plaything, rolling through the current, dragging across bone fragments that line the endless deep, only to fall past them, across underwater cliffs, and there is no real bottom to this, and can’t see the top, where the surface should be, or the sky, where’s the sky—? Nothing above, nothing below, everything inside, everything deep, deeper than the deepest, and cold, so freezing and unbearably icy frigid, alone, ultimate loneliness, worse than losing Gabby, how could that possibly be—? No, hell no, there is no such thing, until now, there is no sound, no love, no memories, not until I reach the other side, but what other side—? It’s long gone, forever gone, somebody sings—

The God doesn’t want any memories here—

They’ve died and will never come back.

8

Having a very large piece of yourself, a desperate desire, removed in total isn’t as cathartic as one would expect; sobriety is a dreary sensation that spreads from the toes, all the way into the brain, where it resides like a cold lump of lead; to be sure, it’s an experience that falls well short of bliss.

Janet had to sit down once it happened. At first she accepted this was the prolonged response of her body shutting down, that the bottle and the coin and maybe even Sam’s visit had been byproducts of a dying mind. Maybe she was still in the hospital right now, with Herman leaning over her, his big warm hands clasping her cold bloodless ones, telling her to hold on, to not leave him.

The strangeness occurred right after she’d given her coin away. She knew that something had been let go and she’d never have it back. More bizarre, letting go the coin had been this emotional journey that Sam inflicted upon her. His footsteps crossed from one side of her mind to the other and he went out an exit that always existed but until now hadn’t been discovered. It was a passing, a crossing, a final voyage that had been paid for in full.

And in the end of all of this, Janet didn’t want to make that trip to the liquor store. Not now, not ever. Her plans for another rendezvous with alcohol-induced death would never come to be. The thought of even one light beer repulsed her. The beloved acquired taste had returned to being vile, as it had before Melody went away.

Faye knocked on the front door, but unlocked it before Janet had the chance to rise from the couch. Her friend’s elfish face was sullen and defeated, and Janet knew the gym hadn’t turned up anything.

“You want me to call?” she asked, putting her purse down on the end table.

Janet felt dizzy. She should have felt relieved she could now do this without needing to be drunk (
god that was strange
), but it had been a long time since she faced reality in a sober vehicle. Fear was all around her.

“Yes please.”

Faye didn’t lose a moment and picked up her cell phone to dial the police department. While she waited she studied Janet closely. “Evan’s checking all the bars they used to go to.”

Janet nodded, but said nothing.

“Oh yes, I’d like to report a missing person. Will you send somebody to—” Faye’s expression changed to sudden confusion. “Oh.”

She held the phone away from her and said to Janet, “We can either go down there and file the report or do it over the phone. They don’t send anyone to your house.”

“Let’s just get it over with now,” said Janet, relieved no cops would be coming over.

“Wait, which way is more effective?” Faye questioned the dispatcher. She knitted her brow as an answer came. “Either way? You’re sure? We’ll just do it over the phone then. Yes. Okay, I’ll wait.” Faye looked over at Janet again and gave a weak smile.

Janet considered reasons why police didn’t come over to houses. Were there so many missing people now that the cops couldn’t keep up? That was a rather disturbing thought. People were vanishing at such a rate the police had to streamline the entire process, which meant their attention would not be only on her husband.

“Okay,” said Faye to the phone. “His name is Herman Erikson—hello? Are you there?” Faye rolled her eyes and shook her head. She leaned forward and whispered in Janet’s ear, “Scatterbrained.”

Janet nodded numbly.

“Yes, so as I was saying his name is Herman Erikson and he’s 6 foot 2, about—how much does he weigh?”

The question was for Janet. “Oh about two hundred and thirty pounds, I think.”

“Two-thirty, yeah, and brown hair and his eyes— pardon? What? Oh really?”

Janet sat up straight and grabbed her knees. What were they saying? Had they found him already?
Tell me he’s alive. Please, tell me he’s alive. I won’t believe it, but I need to hear it.

 
“In twenty minutes?” Faye asked, her face long with surprise. “Sure, sure, same house. We’ll be here.” She pressed off her phone with a smirk. “Wow.”

Janet almost jumped to her feet. “What?”

“This cop knows you and Herman. Her shift’s almost done and she’s going to come over to take your report in person.”

“I don’t know any cop.”

“Well, she knows you. That’s good, right? Maybe they’ll put Herman on their priority list or something—well, I guess they can’t have those, but you know what I mean.”

Janet let her body slump back into the sofa. So the police would be here after all. Great.

After a moment, she got up and went to the bathroom. The bottle seemed to be in a different place on the sink than she remembered. Janet touched its glass, petted its cold surface. This morning she could only think about finishing what she started, drinking herself to sleep like her paternal grandfather had done, but she could finally see past that foolishness. Her heart wasn’t healed, but her body was, for now.

There was only one bottle she needed now.

1)
Describe the last thing you saw the person wearing
: white t-shirt, blue jeans, black cross trainers.

2)
Any known medical conditions and any medications that the missing person relies upon
: Herman had high blood pressure. He wasn’t good about taking his pills, though. It was for maintenance, so not having them with him wouldn’t be life-threatening.

3)
Photographs of the missing
: (a) a shot of Herman and Janet at their anniversary dinner in San Francisco, a month before Melody was born (b) a cell phone picture of Herman on his birthday from this year, sitting on the couch, holding up a new flannel shirt Faye and Evan had bought him (c) Herman and Lester playing catch together in the backyard with a tennis ball.

4)
Account—in as much detail as possible—where the person was and what he was doing before he went missing
: Herman had arrived with Janet at the hospital. Hospital staff indicated he had been in the waiting room for several hours before leaving. Then, at approximately six in the morning, Evan Ledbetter spoke on the phone with him. Herman indicated he was driving and some of the things he said were nonsensical.

“What kind of nonsensical things?” asked Officer Davis.

Faye shrugged and looked at Janet. “I guess we need Evan for that. He hasn’t really wanted to talk about it that much.”

“I understand.” Officer Becca Davis made a couple more notes on the form, her bronze face focused and calculating.

Janet did not remember the woman, but that was hardly surprising. She was a fellow parent at the Horrace home childcare where Melody had gone. They had seen each other in passing when picking the kids up, but her son Jacob had only been going to the childcare a couple weeks before the tragedy, and lucky for him, he’d been punished that day and was inside writing sentences rather than playing in the front yard.