Pacific Parade

“When did I last see him? Well, I don’t personally meet each of the residents as such. We have over five-hundred units here—I just try and keep up with the place. Shuffling paper up here in the office most days, to tell you the truth. Except for Christmas lunch each year, where I have to be present—company policy. But then they’re like a blur of greys and blue rinse, if you know what I mean. Anyway, not that my time is more important than yours, but I am a busy man. Let’s look up what we’ve got… Albert, was it?

Alfred… I haven’t met him in person, but I’ll bet he’s kind of wrinkly with a shiny set of dentures… wait, did I just describe all of them? Haha. Alfred Lewton. There he is. 109 Geranium Lane. That’s one of the couple’s units by the highway; not bad though, you can catch a glimpse of the ocean from the lounge. If you crane your neck a bit. Haha. Been there with his wife for… two years. Everything’s in order here, as far as paperwork goes. Why did they assign a bright young lady like you to this case? Surely, you’d rather be investigating something more exciting than a missing old man…

Of course, it’s concerning that he hasn’t been seen for two days. Our records for security are exemplary—we really don’t want this to get out, actually. Goes without saying that if you can find him alive, it’s a lot better. Otherwise, I won’t hear the end of it from head office. The truth is, now he has us all waiting.”

#

“When did I last see him? You mean real, or… porque…

No, no, I don’t mean like a fantasma… not a ghost, madre de Dios! I mean, see him like a real person you can touch, or on, on… cámara?

Both? I go to see him every day during the week, usually. Him and Mrs Lewton. I saw him for real Tuesday morning, when I go to his flat. But Wednesday, pfft, no more. Just Mrs Lewton.

On Tuesday? I clean the flat and I clean Mr Lewton. Probably first time I clean Mr Lewton; usually no need with him—he can do alone, washing himself and going the toilet by himself also. But other residents, yes. I clean them all the time. That’s my job, but Mr Lewton he kept saying sorry. And Mrs Lewton also she said, ‘Sorry, dear.’ That was no trouble for me; I deal with small mess like this every day. But him, he couldn’t look me in the eye. You won’t know for long time, because you’re young officer lady—but these things they happen, when you get old.

Yes, that was the last time I saw him for real. On Wednesday morning, because he wasn’t in the flat with Mrs Lewton, I go to the night staff in the guardia office. They go through the cámaras and there are many, so it takes a lot of hours. Before I go home in the evening, they call me and show me. At 9.50pm on Tuesday, I see on the screen Mr Lewton walk through the service gate into Pacific Parade.

No, he carried no bags. Just he wore his grey suit, the same as all the time. Then, I speak to the manager and he called you. After that, I’m waiting.”

#

“When did I last see him? Well… if you tell me what month it is, I might be able to help. Just kidding. Must have been… Monday night. Poker. He and I and a couple of other guys get together in Fat Mick’s unit. He calls himself that, so don’t get all up in arms about the f.. word. Your generation…

No, we weren’t playing for money. Just for… sanity, I suppose.

Yes, I guess you could say Al and I are friends. Only known him since he’s been in here, but we’ve gotten pretty close, I suppose. He’s been struggling with living here among the rest of us. Feels like a waiting room for death, he says. I’ve been here fifteen years, so I got used to it all, I suppose. But him… he was a science teacher—is a science teacher, I should say, he always insists retirement doesn’t make him obsolete.

Your grandfather’s a teacher too? I’ll bet he’s proud of you. Still switched on, your pop?

That’s good, that’s good. So was Al. Until he started… forgetting. Just small things at first; the title of a book, the name of a town. Last week at poker I told a joke, and he laughed so hard, he said he’d have to tell it to his wife. But he said it like this, he said ‘I’ll have to tell… I’ll have to tell my wife.’ He covered it up well, but it was pretty clear—he couldn’t remember her name. Poor bastard. I wonder where he’s gone. All today and last night, you know, I was waiting.”

#

“When did I last see him? I can see him right now, dear. It doesn’t matter that he’s not here with us on this sofa. After sixty-two years of marriage, it’s like we’re two alleles of a heterozygous cell—that’s how he puts it. I don’t fully understand it, but isn’t it poetic? Alfie and I, we’ve always been together because of each other—nobody else.

No, no children.

Yes, I know where he is. You shouldn’t look for him anymore, dear. He wouldn’t want you to. He just needed to leave. He said I could come with him, but I wasn’t ready. Or maybe I was scared. It’s always been like this, though, throughout our marriage. Three months after we met, he said let’s get married—I said let’s wait a wee bit. Two years after we married, he said let’s move to London, and visit all the museums, and see all the sights—I said it’s a whole world away, and aren’t we happy here? So, he decided to go first, and get everything ready for us in London. Then, he called for me. We were there for five wonderful years. This time, he said he was going for a walk to the end of Pacific Parade—where the ocean starts. I wasn’t going to question him or try to hold him back.

Please don’t cry, dear. He wouldn’t want you to. Alfie has his reasons. He said he’d call for me when he got to where we’re going next. I’ll be waiting.”