Elephant in the Sky (10 page)

24

When I arrived in New York, I quickly settled into my hotel room at the Waldorf and was asleep within minutes. The phone rang far too soon the next morning, and I answered it with a sleepy, “Hello?” before I realized it was the automated wake-up call telling me that it was six o'clock and time to get up.

I laced up my running shoes and hit the downtown streets of New York just as the sun was peeking over the buildings. It was my long-standing ritual on the first day of every business trip; I would trade in time typically spent at the breakfast table with my family for the chance to get some exercise and clear my head. It was quality “me time” before my crazy and hectic work day officially kicked in.

I ran up 51st Street to 6th Avenue, and past the AJ & Emerson New York office where all of my meetings would be held later that day. By the time I got to MoMA, I had fallen into my stride and let my stress from the day before erase itself with each step.

Once I'd finished my run and gotten ready for the day, I grabbed my usual latte from the Starbucks near the Waldorf and managed to resist the pumpkin scone that seemed to be calling my name. I knew my back-to-back meetings would be filled with catered baked goods, and I had a dinner meeting booked for that night at a restaurant that promised a rich meal with lots of wine.

My day flew by without a moment to pause. I didn't even stop for lunch. When I wasn't in the Amex meetings, I had other people I needed to meet with from the New York office, or conference calls with my team in Toronto.

I made it back to my hotel just in time to freshen up and change into something more my style. Amex was one of our more formal clients, and I quite often wore business suits when I met with them.

I quickly swapped my dark suit for a pair of skinny jeans, a cream-coloured top, and my favourite Smythe blazer. I spritzed on perfume and put on a pair of pumps before running out the door, and added a fresh coat of lip gloss as I waited for the elevator.

After I'd hailed a cab and asked the driver to take me to the West Village, I texted my colleague, Brad, to let him know I was running a few minutes late. As two long-time AJ & Emerson employees, Brad and I had known each other forever, and we tended to meet for dinner when I was in the city. Brad headed up the AJ & Emerson New York creative team, and it was good for us to both collaborate and commiserate when we could. And as a single guy living in the big city with more accountability during the daytime than at night, Brad could usually meet me for dinner when I was in town.

“
He
y
you!” Brad greeted me with the wide, white smile our female clients loved. As the maître d' led me to him, Brad rose out of his chair to kiss both of my cheeks. He brought me in for his usual bear hug and, as he squeezed tight, the faint smell of his familiar cologne tickled my nose.

“It's so great to see you,” I said, laughing as Brad squeezed tighter. “And to be here, finally. Where's that wine list, already?”

“No need, my dear. I've already ordered a bottle of your favourite. And, look! What do you know? Here it is, right on time.” Brad pointed at the waitress who was approaching our table carrying a bottle of red.

“How does this look, Mr. Andrews?” she asked, presenting the wine.

“Great, thank you.” Brad swirled the wine the waitress poured, then tasted before giving his nod of approval.

“You must come here often, Mr. Andrews,” I teased him when the waitress left. “Does everyone get such special treatment?”

“Well, what can I say? The food is good. Clients love it here. And no one's cooking for me at home so it's better than the burned crap
I'd
surely make.”

I laughed in response. “Makes sense to me. I'd likely do the same.” I sipped at the wine, happy for the familiarity of my favourite Borolo and secretly pleased that I had such a good friend who knew my tastes so well.

“So? How did the meetings go today?” Brad asked, helping himself to a piece of bread.

“They went well. We covered a lot, actually. More than I thought we would, which is good.”

“Glad to hear it,” Brad replied in between bites. “And how's the Toronto office these days?”

“Great, as always. It's such a good team, and my associate creative directors make my job easier. They could practically run the creative shop.”

“Come on now, Ash. You know
that's
not true. Please … AJ & Emerson Global would practically shut down without you.”

“
Now
you're exaggerating.”

“Maybe a little bit, but it would certainly be a huge hit for us if you left.”

I laughed at Brad's flattery. He'd always had a knack for making people feel good about themselves.

“Speaking of AJ & Emerson Global,” Brad continued, “has Cole made any headway in convincing you to move here already? This place would be rockin' with you and I working together every day.”

“Funny you should ask: he actually
did
mention it in passing again today. But Jack would have a fit. You know that. Plus, there's no way I could move my family here. We're settled where we are. And, Nate, well … I'm not sure that would be best for him right now.”

“Aww, Nate. How's my little tyke doing?” Brad asked, grinning at the mention of my son. He and Nate had become fast friends when I'd had Brad over for dinner the last time he'd been in Toronto. “And why do you say that about my little guy? He'd love this city! Who wouldn't?”

“Maybe one day …”

“But not now?” Brad tilted his head to the right and set his glass of wine down. He looked me straight in the eyes. “Anything you want to talk about, Ash?”

I shook my head no, my eyes filling with tears. I looked down, hoping Brad wouldn't notice. I longed to talk to someone about it. Someone who
wanted
to talk about it. Who would understand. Maybe even make it better. Or make it go away completely.

“You sure, Ash? The colour just drained from your cheeks.” Brad took my hand from across the table. “We're more than just colleagues. We're friends, too. You can talk to me about anything.”

Two tiny tears dropped onto the white linen napkin on my lap. I wasn't a crier, and I was embarrassed to be letting my emotions show. But what was going on with Nate was big. Real. And for a mother who loved her son like crazy, it was also very scary.

“Sashimi?” our waitress asked. She had sneaked up behind me and startled me with our appetizer. She put down the wasabi and ginger, and then placed the sushi in between us to share.

Silence punctuated our first few bites. I tried not to feel uncomfortable, which was unusual for Brad and me. But I knew he'd spotted my tears and was likely wondering if he should keep asking if I was okay.

When his next question wasn't about my emotional state but rather my opinion on securing digital rights as part of talent negotiations for broadcast media, I realized he had decided to opt out of counsellor duty. And that worked just fine for me. I didn't want to get into a long conversation with Brad about how worried I was about Nate. Even though I certainly needed someone to talk to, I knew that person wasn't Brad.

Two hours later, as dessert arrived, my phone was still buzzing obnoxiously in my bag. For the majority of our dinner, I'd ignored it for fear of losing the groove in the conversation that Brad and I had finally found, but there was something about the way it wouldn't quit that made me feel like I should give in.

I picked up my phone and slid the arrow right to unlock it. Seven missed calls and thirteen text messages from Pete. I scanned to the last one and my heart clenched:
“Where ARE you? C
all home ASAP. This is an
emergency.”

I grabbed my purse and coat and excused myself from dinner before walking outside to call my husband. “Pete? What's wrong? Why so many calls?”

“You don't know what's going on? Didn't you see my other messages?” Pete's voice was frantic.

“No … I just saw your last text saying to call home immediately and I phoned you right away. What's going on? You're scaring me.”

“It's Nate. He left. Again. Only this time … only this time, we really can't find him. He disappeared while I was making dinner. He was there one minute, and then suddenly he was gone. All I did was go into the pantry to grab some pasta. It had to have been less than thirty seconds. And as soon as I realized he wasn't there, we started looking. We've looked everywhere inside our house. We've driven all over the place. We've searched and searched but … we can't find him. Anywhere.”

My pulse quickened. The heat of fear I'd felt before crept its way back up my neck. I knew I was actually living out the imagined scene my incessant worry had forced into my mind so many times in the weeks leading up to that moment. I bit the inside of my cheek and tasted blood. I wanted to ask the million questions that were filling my head but I was speechless, completely muted by fear. I couldn't bring myself to say one word.

“We've called the police …”

The
police
?

Pete's words got fuzzy after that. All I could hear was the word
police
in my mind. I heard it over and over and over. The more I said it in my head, the more it started to sound funny.

“The police . . ?” I finally muttered out loud.

“Yes, the police. That's what I keep telling you. They're on their way over now. Should be here any minute. Tay came by and took Grace to her house because she's hysterical, as you can probably imagine. She was freaking out and I couldn't calm her down. I thought it would be better if she weren't here when the cops get here. So Tay picked her up.”

“Has Grace eaten dinner yet? You need to make sure Tay feeds her.”

“
What
? Huh? Ashley …
what
? What kind of question is that?” Pete spit into the phone. “I'm talking about how Nate is
gone
. We can't find him. Anywhere. I've been driving the streets and going everywhere I can think of for over an hour now. And I can't find him. And now it's dark.”

I knew Pete was right. Given the situation, it was a weird question to finally ask, but in the moment, it was as if Grace's dinner was the only thing I could control.

“Ashley? I have to go. The cops just got here.”

“No! Pete, wait. I need to know about Nate …”

“I'm sorry. I have to go,” Pete interrupted me mid-­sentence. “I'll tell you everything when you get home, but right now my time is best spent answering the questions the cops have. So they can start looking for Nate.” Pete paused and gulped so much air I could hear it over the phone. I sensed the severity of the situation had really set in for him. “Oh shit, they have to start looking for Nate. The police are going to be looking for our son … how did this
happen
? After all that we've been through, how could I have let him go missing? Again?” The panic that I'd been feeling for so many weeks suddenly entered Pete's voice. We were finally on the same page.

“They'll find him, Pete. They have to.”

“Just come home, Ashley. You need to come home. Right now. Okay?”

I nodded, tears streaking down my face. As I clicked off my phone, I hailed a cab and, within seconds, was tearing across the Queensboro Bridge on my way to LaGuardia.

25

Nate

My lungs hurt and I cannot breathe but it doesn't matter because I need to keep running and I need to run faster even though my ankle sometimes hurts a little bit because I'm running so fast. I cannot stop no matter what anyone says.

Even Noah. I thought about going to his house. But I know he would have told me to stop running. He doesn't like to run. Only ride bikes. So I decided not to go there. I ran past his blue house that is four doors down from mine to the end of the street. And then I turned right and kept going.

But now I really wish Noah was with me because I need to have him help me find my mommy. We need to find my mommy and I need to find New York because that's where Daddy says Mommy is and we need to find her before the elephants get us because they are chasing me and I don't know where Noah is so I don't know if they have already killed him and the elephants are scaring me and they are growling behind me and are like shadows dancing everywhere and they make fun of me and they say they will hurt me and then kill me and I think they might have already killed Noah and that makes me so scared so that is I why I do not like the elephants but they keep following me anyway so I need to run faster.

Something bad is going to happen.

I just know it.

I know it because the angry elephants have come down. They have come down from the sky. And now they are chasing me. They have come to get me. And Mommy. They are going to chase her too because they want to kill her. They want to kill both of us.

So I need to run faster.

As fast as I can.

I need to find Mommy.

26

Ashley

I barely remembered to message Brad to let him know that I had bailed on our dinner. I thought about letting him know what was going on, but a tiny nagging feeling prevented me from sharing the specific details; I simply mentioned that a family emergency had come up, and asked him to let everyone know that I had to fly back to Toronto right away.

Brad's response came immediately:
“No problem. I'll let everyone know. Are
you going to your hotel t
o get your stuff first?”

“Oh shit. My stuff. Of course …” I muttered out loud. I hadn't even considered getting my suitcase from the hotel. I thought about asking the cab driver to turn around, but I didn't want to waste any more time. Instead, I called the hotel and arranged for my things to be packed and shipped home to me.

When I got to the airport, I rushed to the counter to see if I could switch my flight. I hoped my gold status from flying so frequently would help get me home faster.

“You're in luck, Ms. Carter.” The airline employee smiled, holding onto my passport. I suspected she had picked up on the panic that was smeared all over my face. “The last flight out is at 9:50 p.m., and since you don't have to check a bag, I think you'll make it.”

I thanked her before grabbing my passport and boarding pass. I ran in the direction of security, and got there twenty minutes before my flight boarded. A long line of waiting passengers loomed in front of me.

The security employee standing at the front of the line must have noticed how antsy I was. She got off her stool and walked in my direction. “Where are you going and what time is your flight?” she asked, reaching for my boarding pass without the slightest hint of a smile on her face.

“Toronto. The 9:50 flight.”

The employee's eyes bored into mine. She hesitated slightly, but then signalled for me to follow her. She led me to the front of the line.

“You can't leave it this late … you'll miss your flight,” the employee scolded me. She shook her head as she handed me a bin to put my purse and shoes in.

“I know … it's my son. It's an emergency. I just found out that I have to go home …”

The woman shrugged her shoulders and waved me through nonchalantly, as if she'd heard this excuse a million times.

When I got to the gate, I sank into an empty chair far from anyone else. I longed to have someone I knew with me. I was going crazy without an update, but didn't want to bug Pete while he was talking to the police. And I knew he would call me as soon as he knew something.

I sat in my chair, desperate for Nate to be okay. I put my head in my hands and prayed as hard as I could, begging God over and over to let the police find our little boy. My heart, pounding in my chest as it had never done before, was making it next to impossible to keep my composure.

Three minutes before they called us to board our flight, my phone rang.

It was Pete.

“
Please
tell me some good news. Have you found him?”

“No news. I'm sorry, Ash. The police just finished ransacking our house. I told them he wasn't in there, but they wanted to be sure. The two cops that came searched everywhere. All of our closets, the garage, our shed … everywhere. He's not here.”

“So now what?”

“I filled out a Missing Person Questionnaire.”

I gulped. Sucked in air. “A … a Missing Person Question­naire? Really? What did you tell them?” My stomach was in knots, and my heart was going so fast I could feel it in my throat.

“I gave them a full description of what Nate looks like, what he was wearing when he left the house, stuff about his dental records. That kind of thing.” Pete's voice sounded weak on the other end of the phone. Like he was already defeated.

“So what are they going to do now?”

“They're hitting the streets to start looking for him. I told them all of his favourite places to go … parks, the school, the rinks where he plays hockey. Basically all the places that I've already looked, but they want to double check the obvious spots.”

“And do they have a picture of him?”

“Of course. Three.”

“Oh no. This can't be happening …” My throat became tighter, threatening to take away my ability to breathe. I couldn't accept the fact that my baby was out on the streets. By himself. That the police were looking for him. That they now considered him to be a missing person. It was too much to take in.

“The cops asked that I stay here in case Nate comes home,” Pete continued. Something in his voice sounded almost apologetic. “Because there's a good chance he'll come home. He's got to …”

“I know.” I inhaled sharply, thinking through my next few words that I needed to ask my husband. I had to know about how Nate was behaving before he left. I tried to be delicate with my questioning. “Pete? What happened tonight? Was he acting strange again?”

On the other end of the phone, there was only silence.

“Pete …? Was Nate acting strange tonight?”

“I guess so … yeah … he was, I guess. He was acting really strange, actually.” Pete's voice was soft. Barely above a whisper.

Taking a deep breath, Pete relived what had happened earlier that night. How Nate had been acting overly hyper and was bouncing off the walls. And how he had continually talked about monsters from the moment he got home from school. Pete said Nate seemed to be obsessed with what he described as big, shadowy elephant monsters that were all around them.

Nate swore up and down that the monsters were going to hurt them. At first, Pete thought it was because Halloween had been a couple of weeks before that, but Nate refused to drop it. He couldn't seem to get over it, and kept talking about how the monsters were going to kill them. And that they needed to find Mommy because only Mommy could save them.

Hearing that my son needed me so desperately, my heart completely broke. I hadn't been there to help him. I had ­abandoned my son in his time of need, just as my father had abandoned me.

I was an awful parent.

“What did you say to Nate? When he was telling you all of this.”

“At first, I thought if I distracted him it might calm him down. So I asked if he wanted to help me make the pasta. He said yes, but when I came out of the pantry with the noodles, he had simply vanished. He was nowhere to be found. I started looking through the house, and noticed the front door was wide open. It's freezing outside and we didn't leave the door open, so I knew instantly Nate had left the house.”

I felt like I was collapsing into myself and needed someone to hold me up.

Pete continued, “Grace and I jumped in the car and scoured the neighbourhood. But he was just … well, he was just gone. It was like he vanished into thin air. We looked everywhere.”

“Did you tell all of this to the police officers?” I asked Pete.

“Yes … of course I did.”

“And what did they say about it?”

“About the monsters? They brushed it off as standard nine-year-old stuff. That he was likely still scared from Halloween. They see it a lot, apparently.”

When Pete had finished the tale of what had happened, silence filled the line. And my fear turned to anger.
Why
hadn't Pete listened to me when I told him something was wrong with our son? If he had, Nate wouldn't be missing. And we could have gotten Nate the help he needed.

And why hadn't I pushed more? I should have insisted that Pete listen to me. I should have taken Nate to see a doctor sooner. I should have booked the appointment, regardless of what anyone else said. I should have listened to the whispers that only I could hear. I had known something wasn't right. Instead, I'd let Pete convince me Nate was just a kid. That he didn't need help. And I'd ignored my intuition.

Pete and I, together, had abandoned our son in his time of need.

We were
both
awful parents. And Nate was missing because of it.

“
Last call
for Ashley Carter, Flight 1210 to Toronto …” A staccato voice interrupted my thoughts. I could see a short, snarly woman standing behind the check-in desk barking into the microphone, looking in my direction. She must have been calling all passengers to board but I hadn't heard her during my conversation with Pete. I was the only one still sitting in the chairs at the gate.

I told Pete I had to board my flight, and that I'd call him as soon as I landed.

The woman irritably held her hand out to take my passport and boarding pass, but her face somewhat softened as she saw my tear-streaked cheeks. She smiled at me, as if to imply everything would be okay, and then closed the gates behind me as I started down the jet bridge.

I took my seat and prepared for takeoff, knowing the short flight to Toronto was about to become the longest hour of my life. I barely made it through, and tried to ignore the other passengers whispering about me and nudging their heads in my direction. I hadn't stopped crying since I got on the plane, and no one knew whether they should ignore me or ask if I needed help.

Lucky for me, everyone chose the former and I was left alone to weep into the hard plastic of my window cover. Telling a stranger my story wasn't going to help, and I didn't want to talk about it with anyone except my family.

As soon as we landed, I called Pete from the plane and found out there was no news. On the other end of the phone, his voice sounded hollow and distraught; it was almost like talking to a stranger.

With nothing more to talk about, we hung up the phone, and I stared out the window, watching the crew begin to unload the luggage.

It was dark out.
Really
dark out. And my baby was out there by himself.

When the plane doors finally opened, the people in front of me cleared a path and let me off first. I suspected they'd heard me speaking to Pete, and knew that my son was missing.

The flight attendants waved goodbye kindly. One nodded her head in a knowing fashion. Their lips were pursed together in awkward smiles that were as identical as their uniforms, and it was clear they all felt uncomfortable but sympathetic.

When I finally made it home, I found Pete sitting at the kitchen table with his forehead resting on top of his crossed arms, which were folded on the table. The house was silent. He was clutching his phone. When he heard me walk through the door, he jumped up out of his chair and raced towards me too quickly, ploughing into me and suffocating me with his grip. He clung on tightly. We both did. Neither of us wanted to let go.

“Ash … I just don't know … what are we going to do? How could this have happened to us?”

I shook my head in response, unable to answer. Fresh tears stung my swollen eyes. I was convinced I'd left all of my tears on the plane and was surprised to feel them once again nip at my puffy lids.

Pete continued, “I'm sorry, Ash. I'm so sorry. I should have listened to you. You knew something was wrong. And I could see it in him tonight. Finally. But then he was gone. It was too late …”

It was too late
… Pete's words hung in the air like the thick smog of a humid day in July. The enormity of the situation closed in on both of us.

Pete finally felt what I felt. And he knew what I knew: that we were dealing with something far larger than either of us could likely comprehend. And as my husband hugged me closer, the scariest part of everything we were dealing with settled into our bones. It wasn't what we knew, but what we
didn't
know: we had no idea what was going on in Nate's little brain, or what it might cause him to do. Worst of all, we didn't know whether or not it was too late to do anything.

Even after Pete's tight embrace began to relax, the raw fear did not dissipate. We parted, our eyes locking for a few moments before I let my glance go beyond my husband to the fridge at his back. There, hanging by the Golden Gate Bridge magnet my father had given us, almost as if it were staring at us — mocking us, even — was the angry-looking elephant that our son had created.