Wacky Washington #4

My wife spent all morning in the attic. I spent all morning worrying about her.

She finally came down around noon, dust smudged across her cheek, bearing a cardboard box. She wiped the back of her hand across her brow, moving an errant strand of hair that must have been tickling her skin. Her hands were dusty, which explained the awkward gesture.

“Everything okay, Meggan?” I asked.

She glared at me. “Ask me that one more time, seriously. Please.”

I bit my tongue. I had no idea how to deal with her. “I’m sorry.”

She waved it off, sitting on the couch. I found it odd that she took the time to keep her dusty fingers off her face by using the back of her hand to fix her hair, but paid no attention to her dusty pants on the couch. She was meticulous about the living room.

“What do you have there?”

Meggan opened the box, ignoring me. She pulled out several old photo albums. I had never seen them before.

“Are those from your parents’ place?”

“My mom’s, yeah.” She was flipping through one of the albums, turning pages rapidly. Every once in awhile she would stop and stare at a picture.

I sat down in the armchair, at a ninety-degree angle from the couch, watching her face. Whenever she paused, a small smile would grow in the corner of her mouth. Then her lips would tighten and she would blink really hard. Then she would turn the page.

I leaned forward, trying to see what she was looking at. I craned my neck.

“Is that your cousin?”

Meggan slammed the album shut and glared at me, wiping a tear from her eye. She picked up the album, threw it into the box, and then gathered up the whole thing. She stormed out of the room and I heard our bedroom door slam.

“Great.” I slumped down in my chair.


***


“Mr. Jenkins, I assure you, we’re doing everything we can. I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t.”

“I appreciate that, Detective, and I’m sorry for wasting your time. It’s just, I really don’t know how to deal with this, and maybe some progress on the case would help, I don’t know, calm her nerves a little.”

“I can totally sympathize. I’ve seen some awful things in this job. Grieving is a difficult process. All I can recommend is maybe helping your wife find a good therapist. Even if we catch this guy, she’s not necessarily going to feel any closure. We have a lot of missing tourists and only one body so far. There’s no evidence to suggest he got your wife’s cousin, too. Just a suspicion. Nothing will change the fact that her cousin is gone. I’m sorry you wasted your time.”

“I’m sorry for wasting yours. I just felt like I needed to do something, anything, you know?”

“I understand, sir. You have a good day.”

I hung up the phone and wandered over to the kitchen window. I watched my daughter playing in her sandbox in the backyard. Everything here seemed so quiet and safe, the picture of suburban tranquility. No one would suspect the utter chaos in our lives, the dark grief.

I walked slowly up the stairs to the second floor, and listened outside our bedroom. I couldn’t hear much of anything. I tapped quietly.

“Honey? It’s time for lunch.”

Nothing.

“I made tuna, your favourite.”

Quiet.

“I’m going to go get Molly. We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us.”

I walked slowly back down the steps, looking over my shoulder at the door a couple of times. I shrugged, and called Molly in from the back door. We sat down to tuna salad sandwiches in the kitchen. I made them like my dad: tuna, mayo, relish, celery and green onions. Meggan had always loved his recipe. At her house they had just added mayonnaise.

Molly held her cup of milk in two hands, gulping it. She put the cup on the table, sitting on her knees to do so, and then wiped the milk off her mouth with the back of her hand.

“More, please,” she said, with a soft gasp of air.

“Don’t drink it so fast next time,” I smiled. I poured her another cup.

We went out to the hammock after lunch, under the big maple. I read her a story while she cuddled in my lap. Princesses and dragons fascinated her for about twenty minutes.

“Daddy, is there such thing as real magic?”

“Sure there is. I can show you.”

“You can?” Her eyes went big.

“Sure.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a dime. “Watch this.”

I made the coin dance over my fingers and knuckles, in and out. On one rotation, it disappeared. She gasped.

“Where did it go?”

I showed her my open hands, and then looked around the hammock and the grass.

“I guess I dropped it. Oh, no, wait… Here it is!”

Molly was sitting on the hammock. I knelt down in the grass and reached over. I pulled the shiny coin out from behind her ear, making her giggle.

“How did you do that?” Molly laughed. “Do it again!”

“Can you make my cousin reappear?” I heard from behind me.

“Hi, Mommy!”

I turned and saw my wife standing a short distance from us. I smiled softly.

“Wish I could. I haven’t learned that trick yet.”

“Thank you for the sandwiches.”

I shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

She knelt down with me and hugged Molly. Meggan turned and kissed me softly.

“Mommy, are you still sad?”

“Yes, baby. But only a little. Daddy’s magic cheered me up.”

“How’d he do that?” Molly asked, impressed.

“By being the best daddy in the world, and an awfully patient husband.” She smiled.

I wiped my eyes and sniffled.

“You’re such a sap, Sam.” Meggan leaned in and kissed me again.