Friendship, like marriage, is a funny thing. You never know what
might happen. My friendship with Charlotte was strong, as friendships
formed through the rigors of caring for infants are. Our sons were
the same age, give or take a few weeks, and Charlotte and I came
to know just about everything there was to know about each other
as at first we sat nursing our babies, then while sitting in a pile
of toys designed to stimulate and educate, then while running after
toddlers who seemed hell-bent on doing themselves, or each other,
in. And now, with the boys aged three, at last we could sit, have
a coffee and chat at the kitchen table while the boys played and
fought and played again in the basement.
We knew everything there was to know about each other except we didn’t
talk about our husbands. For my part, I didn’t have much to say. I don’t
like “ragging on husband” sessions and the good parts of our marriage
are no one’s business. I assumed Charlotte felt the same way, as we were
so simpatico, but I never asked. I knew John, of course, and he seemed unfailingly
nice. Over the years politeness became just friendly. “Good morning, Karen”,
with Ben all ready to go at the door when I came to get him for a playdate with
Josh, became “Heya, Karen, Ben’s in the kitchen”, as he waved
me on in. My husband Ned liked John well enough, too, well enough to enjoy the
potluck dinners we’d share, although his friendliness was more for Josh
and my sakes than out of true feelings.
It was a hot summer’s day when Charlotte called and every mother’s
worst nightmare began.
“I can’t find Ben any where, Karen, I don’t suppose he’s
with you?” Her voice was desperate.
“Oh, Charlotte. No, he’s not,” I whispered since my heart had
suddenly constricted and I could barely breathe. “Could John have taken
him out?”
“No, he’s here with me. I have to go, I have to call the police.”
I stared at the phone, unable to move, until Josh tugged at my shirt.
“Are we going to Ben’s?” he asked.
I shook my head slowly, still frozen with shock. Josh continued to tug at my
shirt until I grabbed him into a big hug and held him for a long time. He must
have sensed the seriousness of the situation because he didn’t even squirm.
His little arms around my neck galvanized me; I had to be with Charlotte. Josh
didn’t need such a rude introduction to life’s realities so I called
my mom who, luckily, was free to look after him.
After dropping Josh off I raced to Charlotte’s. John answered the door.
“Heya, Karen,” he waved me on in like always.
“Have you found him?”
He frowned. “No, the police are here.” He led me into the kitchen
where Charlotte sat clutching Ben’s favorite teddy bear. I went straight
to her and gathered her into a hug. The tears she’d been holding back poured
forth and she sobbed on my shoulder.
I could see police systematically searching the backyard following a search dog.
I could hear footsteps upstairs and assumed there were more police.
“What happened, Charlotte?”
She sniffed and drew herself together. “You know, I woke up thinking there
was something wrong. And then I looked in Ben’s room and he wasn’t
there. I called and looked all around and he wasn’t there. Then John came
in the door and he said he hadn’t seen him either. I knew he was gone.
He always wakes me up.”
“If they don’t find missing kids in the first twenty-four hours they
say they never do, that they’re probably dead.” John stared at his
wife as he said this. We stared back at him in shock, then Charlotte began to
weep again.
“They’ll find him,” I assured them both.
But, you know, they never did. Every day I visited Charlotte, sat with her and
held her hand as she wept. John had to work and I knew Charlotte needed someone
with her. After two weeks with Ben still missing, Charlotte no longer wept. She
would greet me at the door with hollow eyes and an ashen face. A month later,
she no longer bothered answering the door and I would let myself in to find her,
unwashed and unkempt, staring blankly and clutching Ben’s favorite teddy
bear. I would make her shower, cook for her and force her to eat. I no longer
said anything about the police finding him.
I couldn’t desert my friend in her greatest hour of need, but at times
I so wanted to. There were days when I had to take Josh with me to check on Charlotte
and it broke my heart to explain why he couldn’t play with Ben, that we
didn’t know where he was, and that that was what was wrong with Ben’s
Mom.
One day I had Josh with me and he picked up Ben’s teddy bear, which was
never far from Charlotte. “Beary,” he shouted happily. He looked
at me with big, solemn eyes. “Ben not happy to not have Beary.”
“Yes,” I whispered, my throat choked with tears I couldn’t
let him see. I sent him to take the bear to Ben’s room. He scampered away
and I turned to Charlotte. We held each other and wept as though we had just
learned of Ben missing all over again. There was little else I could do and I
left as soon as Josh came back down.
“We should take Beary to Ben,” Josh said on the way home in the car.
I summoned my patience. “We don’t know where he is, Joshy, remember?”
“Probably,” he remarked. “A beary one and a three.” I
was happy he had changed the subject.
After two months, my husband was suggesting I needed to move on with my life.
That Charlotte’s grief was consuming me, too, and affecting Josh overly.
I knew he was right but still could not justify deserting her. But I had to think
of Josh. I signed him up for nursery school and it wasn’t long before he
made new friends and we had playdates. I met their mothers and, though it felt
like a betrayal of Charlotte, I was laughing and having fun, too. Even John,
Charlotte’s husband, took me aside one day as we passed each other on the
front porch.
“Karen, I know that without you Charlotte wouldn’t have survived
all this. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for us, for
her.” He took my hand and gripped it. I was startled and tried to pull
it back. He held tight. “I want you to know that I know this situation
is hard on you and Josh, too. Who knows how long this will go on for? Charlotte
will never get better. You have to look after your self and your family.” He
released his grip and gave a big sigh. “No one will hold it against you,
trust me.”
“Karen, is that you?” Charlotte appeared in the doorway.
John raised his voice. “What we need is Ben’s body so we can bury
him and have closure. See, you, Karen, bye, sweetheart.” He waved and left
for work.
Charlotte was gripping the doorframe so hard I had to massage her hands free,
all the while speaking soothingly. Eventually I managed to get her to lie down
and drink a cup of tea. She fell asleep. I hated to leave her like that. She
was so thin and pale with huge dark circles under her eyes. But I had to fetch
Josh from school.
“You’d think he was trying to upset her,” I said to my husband
later that night.
“Maybe he’s just trying to get Charlotte to snap out of it,” was
my husband’s thought.
“I suppose it’s doubly difficult for him with Charlotte so lost,
too.” I forgot about it and was back to checking on Charlotte daily.
“I know he’s alive,” she would insist, clutching Ben’s
teddy, “I know it.”
One day I was taking Josh to visit a friend from his school who lived in a new
sub-division on the edge of town. We were singing along to the Wiggles when suddenly
Josh pointed and shouted, “One and a three Berry!”
Indeed, there was a street sign labeled Berry Street. I was so impressed. “Did
you actually read that, Joshy?” I exclaimed. “Wow, good for you.”
Josh beamed. “Thirteen berry’s for Ben.”
“Oh.” I tried to hide my disappointment. Josh had meant bearies,
not berries. Oh well, so he wasn’t reading at three. I laughed at myself;
typical Mom stuff, convinced my kid was a genius.
Later that day, though, I realized Josh was trying to tell me something. It was
a matter of asking him the right questions. After dropping Josh off, I stopped
as usual to check on Charlotte. I found her lying in bed still in her nightclothes.
She was pale and I was shocked by how skeletal she was. Lying on the bed staring
unmoving at the ceiling, she looked more dead than alive. I assumed she had heard
the worst; that Ben’s body had been found.
“Oh, Charlotte. I’m so sorry.” I sat on the edge of the bed
and took her hand in mine.
She turned her head and gave me a small smile and squeezed my hand in return. “Oh
no, Karen, I know Ben’s alive. No. John told me he’s leaving me this
morning. I can’t blame him really. I’m a mess, aren’t I?” A
lone tear trickled down her cheek. Her face was swollen and puffy and I knew
she’d cried herself out.
I started to say, “Of course you aren’t,” but there wasn’t
much point. I held her hand and sat with her, letting her know I was there. The
news left me feeling winded, as though I’d been kicked in the gut. I found
it hard to believe John would leave Charlotte in these circumstances. How could
anyone be so cold, even indifferent to his wife’s pain? Charlotte was clutching
Ben’s teddy and I stared at it. No, John was not indifferent at all. I
had heard him be deliberately cruel, deliberately remind her of Ben’s loss
and probable death. How could he be so cold? I felt a stirring of anger and,
staring into Ben’s teddy’s gleaming black eyes, I had a terrible
suspicion.
“I’ll be back,” I whispered to Charlotte. “I’m
going to get Josh.” Another horrible suspicion stopped me in the doorway. “Don’t
do anything, Charlotte. I’ll be right back and I’ll have Josh with
me. Promise?”
She didn’t even have the energy to pretend she didn’t know what I
was talking about. “Okay, Karen, okay.” She turned her head away
from me.
I drove fast. Once I had Josh in the car I returned to Berry Street. Number thirteen
was large, with bow windows top and bottom on the right and a two-car garage
on the left. Brand new as it was, it must have cost a pretty penny. My mind was
calculating. Was a funeral cheaper than a divorce? I pulled into the empty driveway.
The living room curtain twitched.
“Have you been here before?” I asked Josh.
“Thirteen berry for Ben,” he beamed and nodded.
I was angry. Not only for Charlotte but for myself and my son, too, who missed
his best friend.
“I’ll be right back, Josh.” I could see him in the car from
the front door. I rang the bell. I had to ring five times but I was persistent.
That small shadow behind the curtain had been Josh’s size.
A woman opened the door, just enough to stick her head out. She looked expensive,
too. “Can I help you?” she demanded in exasperation. She glanced
over at my car and frowned when she saw Josh peering out the window. Josh waved
at her. She tried to slam the door shut but I was prepared and kicked the door
wide.
“Josh is in the car, Ben. Run to the car, Ben!” I shouted, pushing
against the door to hold it open. A little figure suddenly ran out and I heard
him shouting, “Hi, Joshy!”
The woman suddenly let go of the door and I fell forward, landing on my knees.
She tried to run past me but I grabbed her around the legs and tackled her to
the floor. Months of grief and worry for my friend fed my adrenaline. I grabbed
the woman by the back of her blouse and threw her bodily into the house, then
I pulled the door shut with a slam. I scooped up Ben and tossed him into the
backseat.
I kept checking the rearview mirror. No one followed me. I didn’t start
breathing normally again until we were well away.
“Hi, Ben. How would you like to go home?”
“Mommy’s dead,” he burst into tears.
I was so angry. Not only had John tried to make Charlotte commit suicide by convincing
her Ben was dead, he’d told Ben his mother was dead, too. Presumably so
Ben would accept the “new” mother.
Once back at Charlotte’s I ran into the house with the boys. All was quiet. “Charlotte,” I
called. I prayed I wasn’t too late. I started up the stairs when I heard
a noise from the kitchen. I held the boys’ hands. “Charlotte?” I
called. I stuck my head cautiously around the kitchen door. She was standing
by the stove.
“Mommy!” Ben shrieked. He let go my hand and ran to her. Charlotte
spun around and sank to her knees as Ben threw himself into her arms. They held
each other for a long time. I saw Charlotte had been making a pot of tea so I
poured a couple of mugs.
She looked at me over Ben’s head. “What…?”
“I need to call the police,” I said. “Keep the boys in here
with you, okay?”
The police moved quickly and caught John and his girlfriend at the airport. Charlotte
and I are good friends still, ‘til death do us part.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Selaine Henriksen-Willis has worked many jobs to support her writing
habit from bookstore clerk to Research Technologist. She resides in
Ottawa where she is a member of Capital Crime Writers and is currently
a stay-at-home mom living with her husband and two children.
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