The Missing Piece

As I sit, filled with grief and despair, looking out the window of a train that is no longer moving, I can sense danger all around me. I feel the sudden urge to jump, jump out the window, jump off the train, jump anywhere and see where the wind takes me.

Did I always feel this alone. I once had a loving husband, children, and a life that most would be envious of. But now, as I sit looking out of this train, I try to remember the exact moment my life changed.

It was a warm afternoon in August, and I was outside waiting for my husband and children to come back from the store. Last minute back-to-school shopping that I was not a fan of. Thankfully my husband had the patience for three kids running around the store all wanting different things. I knew it would take them most of the afternoon, but it was slowly turning into the evening and dinner was almost ready. I called my husband to see what his eta was, the phone rang a few times and went to voicemail…I thought maybe he was pulling in the neighborhood, and he didn’t feel the need to answer. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Nothing. I try again, this time his phone goes right to voicemail.

Panic starts to set in. “Damnit Paul” I mutter to myself as I walk around the house looking for anything that could point me in the direction of where they might have gone. But I find nothing. I check our bank account; nothing has been spent today. I know they’ve been gone for only three hours, but they were supposed to go school shopping, they should be back by now.

By 7:30 I’m done waiting. I call the police.

911 Operator: Hello this is the Fayetteville County Police Department how can I help you?

Me: Yes, my name is Elizabeth and I think somethings happened to my family.

The police arrive and are swarming me with questions. Since the children are also missing, they ask me questions like “Have there been any marital problems? Would your husband take the children somewhere else? Is there anything suspicious that you have noticed within the last few days? Was your husband having an affair?” All answers are a strong no. “No, my husband would never have an affair, something happened that prevented my husband from bringing my children back to me and I need you to go out there and find them.”

For days, I tried to retrace their last steps. We tried to figure out where Paul’s last know location was. It turns out, it was at the house, 25 minutes before I called to see where they were. How could they trace his phone back to our home without him being there? How could he have come back to our home without my knowledge? I had so many questions and the only person who could answer them was not answering their phone. “Damnit Paul” I said this probably 100 times a day. “Damnit Paul, why aren’t you answering me?” “Damnit Paul, where are my children” “Damnit Paul, how could you do this to me?” All questions, which would never be answered, not by Paul anyways.

In four days, the police have come up with no answers. They have set up road blocks, they have put out a BOLO for Paul’s car, my family is on the news as this week’s tragic story. “HOUSEWIFE IS LEFT SHATTERD AFTER HUSBAND AND CHILDREN GO MISSING.” People have been coming in and out of my house for a week. My home, that no longer feels like a home, but like a constant reminder that my children are not here, my bed is a constant reminder that my husband is not here. I don’t eat, because how do you go from feeding a family of five to just one? I don’t sleep because how does a nighttime routine go from stories, pajamas, and teeth brushing time, to just quiet. I used to dream of a quiet time, I never imagined it would come so soon. Now when I dream, I dream of their voices, I dream of their smell, I dream until I wake up to my nightmare.

I have to get out of this house and look for my family. How did three children and a grown man just disappear? How is this even possible, I know its 3am, but I can no longer stay here and wait for them to waltz back in. I am on my own. I need to do this on my own. But where do I begin? What am I missing? Did Paul really take my children away from me? The thought quickly leaves my mind almost as quickly as it entered. I will not allow myself to believe my husband is capable of kidnapping.

I walk for what feels like hours. I end up at the abandoned train station. When we bought our house 15 years ago, we always talked about how much we hated the train being so close. It was so loud during the day, and it would wake us up some nights. One day it occurred to us that we hadn’t heard the trains in over a week. As I was walking through the train station, I could almost hear the engine rolling. I knew it was coming from my memory, but I could remember the feeling of the ground shake when the train would pass by, I could remember what it smelled like when it plowed through our town. The smell of coal, oil, and rust.

I am so drawn to this location. I feel it deep inside of me. I am supposed to find something here. I know I am. I walk across tracks; I walk further away from the entrance of the station. As I walk onto an abandoned cab, I take a seat by the window. I sit for what feels like an hour. I think about my kids, my husband, what am I even doing here? My family isn’t here. I should keep walking, keep looking.  But as I start to come back to reality and head back to my home, I see a man standing in the cab. Its Paul, looking at me like he knows he messed up.