Kennedy
The noise of the detectives shuffling around our space is too much. I can barely look any of them in the face. If they see the anguish in my swollen, burning eyes, then it will be in theirs. Like one of them said, no amount of time will ever prepare an officer for a missing child. It doesn’t matter how many cases they’ve worked on, the empty restlessness in their stomach will always be there to remind them one is not like the other. The similarities shared with other cases is we’d give just about anything, promise anything, to watch our child walk through the front door.
With my fingers gripped tight on Ben’s doorknob, I allow my mind to wander back to Ben circling the bases at the stadium after Graham’s first game. How happy we were under the bright lights.
From the doorway of his room, I inspect the scene in front of me. Legos spread across the rug. Clothes strewed across the bed. A wet towel on my beautiful hardwood floors. I pick it up out of my need to keep busy. If I stop moving, if the blood has a chance to become comfortable in my veins, then that’s when all hope is lost.
I pick up the baseball Graham gave Ben what feels like a lifetime ago. A simple ball with a center made of rubber, wrapped in yarn, and then strategically bound and stitched together. A ball of fibers my son risked his life to save because it’s the one thing his hero gave him. I remember that day like it was yesterday. Hospital room 207 is where my life changed.
The stitching pinches my fingers when I squeeze. With all the strength left in me, I throw it at the mirror above Ben’s dresser. Glass shatters over the floor. Anger takes over my body, and I fall to the mattress. The ceiling spins above me, making me feel drunk. My world blurs, and silence takes over. The more time that passes, the more electrified my bones become. Laying in his bed won’t bring him back, but there’s nothing on this planet I can do to find him.
I scoot backwards until my head hits his pillows. The covers warm me when I tuck myself under them. I inhale, smelling his pillow, hoping to engrain the scent into my memory. My head rolls to the side, and his Xbox remote sits on the pillow beside me. I jab the power button, and the TV screen flickers.
Why does he love these games so much? Haphazardly, I press random buttons until the game sparks to life. In my desperate need to feel close to him, I select continue on the game Ben had already started and attempt to make sense of why my son loves it so much.
The possibility of never seeing him again rips my heart into a million pieces. Maybe last week I should’ve sat down when he asked me to play that zombie game. When tragedy hits, you have no choice but to reevaluate your shortcomings. There’s always something we could’ve done better or showed more attention to.
A light knock at the door startles me, and I practically toss the remote across the room. I’ve been caught. Red hair peeks into the room. The sight of her causes the dam to break. In a flash, Violet’s body is wrapped around me, protecting me from the world.
“I know, Kennedy. I know,” Violet whispers into my hair. Her fingernails graze up and down my back to relax me. It doesn’t work.
“I don’t know how these are still falling,” I say, rubbing the tears from my face as I sit up. “I didn’t think there was anything left in there.”
Violet sits up, but I tug her to me, needing her to ground me.
“Tears don’t run out. Our will to accept them does.” Violet rests her cheek on my head. “So, we stop crying, because it’s like the one thing left to do. Even when everything is piling down on us, we figure out a way to bring it together. The difference is, moms don’t.” She brushes the hair from my face. “They feel everything. Every scrape on a child. Every fear. You feel it out there in the world because your heart no longer belongs to you. It’s his.”
“What am I going to do?” My stomach churns, and heat creeps over my body. “What if I never see him again?”
“What you’re going to do is sit here with me. We’re going to hold each other in the silence so that you can hear him. Listen for him. He’s out there, and I swear, Kennedy, if I could, I’d give my own life for Ben so you and Graham didn’t have to have this pain racing through you.” Violet’s voice cracks, and tears run down her cheeks.
“Can I come in?” Dan asks. He stands just outside the room, kicking the doorframe with the toe of his shoe.
At the sight of him, I lunge from the bed and jump on him. With ease, he catches me and holds me tight to his trembling chest. There’s always been something about Dan that manages to relax me. I used to think it was his teddy bear-ness. He’s practically a bag of muscly bones now, and I realize his soul is what’s always dragged me in.
“I love you, Baby Girl,” he whispers, cupping the back of my head. He steps forward until my legs hit the bed. He helps me sit, and Violet yanks back the covers, tucking me into her. They flank my sides, and we hold hands, wishing for Ben to appear.
I don’t know how long we sit there in silence. No one says a single word. It’s unnatural. Everything about this room and this house, and my body inside of it is unnatural.
When I’ve had enough, I sit up. “Do you guys remember the first time Ben stayed the night here?” I recall the memory, and a smile forces its way through. It’s nearly impossible not to smile when I think about him.
“We stayed, all nine of us crammed into this room,” Violet adds.
“We didn’t want him to feel alone, so we lined the room with blankets and sleeping bags. Bea popped an ungodly amount of popcorn, and you let him stay up late watching movies and eating candy.” Dan twists away from me, trying to hide his emotions.
We didn’t want him to feel alone.
“Do you think he’s scared?” I shrug and bite the inside of my cheek. “Never mind.”
“Kennedy, wherever he is, he’s strong, stronger than most of us,” Dan says.
“Do you remember the time I was outside playing catch with him?” Rico stands near the door, his hand resting at the top of the frame. His eyes are rimmed with red.
I wave him over. “You mean the time he rocketed the ball at you and pegged you in the nose?” I laugh, surprising myself. I cover my mouth like I’ve done something wrong.
“Ben apologized for days, even after I kept telling him I was okay.” Rico sprawls out on the end of the bed.
“Your face was so bruised.” Violet nudges his shoulder with her toe.
“It was typical of Ben though, right? I mean, the boy has a heart of gold, much like his mother.” Rico grabs my foot, shaking it to tell me he’s here.
The door knob slams against the drywall, making a hole in the sheetrock. We startle from the sound.
“Are you guys fucking kidding me right now?”
“Graham.” I sit up and assess him from the bed. His hair is in disarray. His uniform is untucked, and the anger behind his red face is directed at us.
“You’re talking about Ben as if he’s dead. He’s alive, and we’re going to find him.” He spins around and punches the door as he leaves, causing it to hit the drywall again.
I hang my head, cover my face, and sob uncontrollably. “It’s okay,” I repeat ten times, and then glance up to three sets of eyes staring at me.
“Maybe you should go talk to Graham,” Dan suggests, patting my leg.
Slower than usual, I slip from the bed and look over my shoulder. Sympathy pours from them. They, we, didn’t mean anything by our conversation. It was to lift our spirits, not to diminish Ben’s life.
Tiptoeing down the hallway, I check the rooms as I pass them, finally stopping in front of ours. Graham rests on the edge of the bed, his head hung low and his grip like a vise on the mattress. He’s holding on for dear life.
Is he praying?
I knock on the doorframe, barely creating a decibel of sound, but he stirs and stands to his full height. My heart aches when his back turns to me.
“I don’t know how to make this better. I understand where your hurt is coming from. We handle grief and anguish in different ways. Mine is to talk about the person I’m missing. I’m missing our son, Graham.” His name cracks through my throat, and an undeniable sadness envelops me. To leave my husband alone is to abandon him, and it settles heavy on my stomach. One small movement can make me crumble, but I refuse to feel as if I’ve done something wrong.
Warmth shifts over me, and a sigh escapes as Graham spins me into his embrace.
Graham can shut down. I’ve witnessed him close himself off and block out everything and everyone. Unsure of how I’d handle his seclusion, I promise myself in this moment to never allow him to fall into the trap.
“Do you remember the time you found your favorite handblown glass vase broken?” he asks me, ushering me over to the bed. He nudges me onto the mattress and sits beside me. Like we share one brain, he circles his arm around me, and we fall back.
“The blue one?” I ask, recalling the day I’d found Graham sweeping up slivers of it. He’d dumped them into the trash, and I was so angry. I’d adored the vase. Whenever Graham brought home flowers for no reason, that was the vase I chose to display them in.
“Ben broke it.” Graham’s deep brown eyes smile for his lips. “He was tossing his baseball around, and it slipped and broke the vase. When I came inside, he had tears streaking down his face. He fell to his feet and started trying to gather the pieces.”
“Why wouldn’t he tell me?” I ask.
“Because he loves you. He may look up to me, but he seeks approval from you.”
“Sometimes I don’t know if I’m doing a good job.” That’s hard to admit, especially now, but I’ve never felt more inadequate for motherhood.
“Kennedy, I hang the moon while you create the universe,” he says reaching between us to hold my clenched fist against his chest. “Don’t you see it? Our family works because of you.”
“I keep closing my eyes to listen to the silence. He’s out there, and I’ve convinced myself if it’s quiet enough, I’ll hear him come through the front door.”
“He’s coming home to us, Kennedy.” Graham’s hands slide out from under me and find a home in his pockets.
“Why do these things keep happening to us? Why won’t the universe let us just be happy?” My fears are ear-shattering loud. Graham can make every promise he wants, but at the end of the day neither of us are able to truly keep this one.
“I don’t know, Ken. I really don’t.”