David Silva: The Disappeared

“I think he’s missed you, Mrs. Knight.”

“What?”

The rain began to come down in sheets. It took her back in a flash to when Gabe had been young and had come home from school one day and asked her about God. One of the kids had told him that whenever God cried, it rained. Only there was something he didn’t understand. He didn’t understand what was so terrible that it could make God want to cry? Teri had been at a loss for words. And here she was again at another loss. She looked at the woman and smiled, numbly trying to comprehend what she was apparently failing to grasp.

“He’s not a hundred percent, Mrs. Knight. He needs to sit down.” The boy moved forward and snuggled into the comfort of the young woman’s arms, his eyes half-awake and downcast, rain drops running down his forehead and jumping off at the tip of his nose. The woman switched what was apparently his walking cane from one hand to the other. “Please.”

Teri stepped inside the house, an invitation for them to follow.

The woman nodded in appreciation and took the boy by the arm. “Come on, Gabriel,” she whispered.

Gabriel .

Teri heard it clearly.

The woman called him, Gabriel .

But that was impossible. Gabriel— Gabe —had disappeared nearly ten years ago. Teri had just started working for the post office, feeling that he was old enough to be on his own after school since he had recently turned eleven. They were new to the neighborhood then. Michael had received a promotion the year before and they had bought the house some six months later. For awhile the bees were busy and the honey was sweet, as Michael’s grandmother would often say. And then one day Gabe went off on his bicycle and had never come home again.

Teri blinked, trying to find a place in her mind where such a hope against hope might exist. In that second, the boy started to sink under his own weight. The young woman caught him, and together they managed to get him into the living room and onto the couch. Teri went back to retrieve the cane, which had fallen out of the tangle and was lying on the floor near the front door in plain sight now, like an ugly secret finally out in the open. She turned it over several times in her hands, wondering what was wrong with the boy.

“He’s still a little weak,” the woman said when Teri returned. “Ten days ago he couldn’t even climb out of bed.”

Teri hooked the cane over the back of the couch. The boy, his head propped up by a pillow, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The woman gave the back of his hand a reassuring pat.

“Is he going to be all right?” Teri asked.

“He’s just a little tired.” The woman brushed the hair back from the boy’s forehead. She seemed ill at ease inside the house, glancing down the short hall toward the door every now and then as if she feared she might not be able to find her way out again now that she had found her way in.

“What’s going on?” Teri said. She backed into the wall, feeling an uneasiness of her own, as if she, too, were a stranger in this house. “Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t.”

“Please, Mrs. Knight. I know this is sudden and confusing and I wish I could sit down and explain everything. Unfortunately, I just don’t have that kind of time. You’re going to have to trust me.”

“Trust you? I don’t even know you!”

“I know you , Mrs. Knight. And I hope I’ve done the right thing by bringing your son home.” The woman brushed past her, suddenly looking older than her years, the fear naked in her eyes now. “Please, don’t make me regret it someday.”

“My son?” Teri said. “No, I’m sorry, you’re mistaken. This can’t be my son. Gabe’s…”

“He’ll probably sleep more than normal the next week or two. You’ll need to push him, to make sure he gets enough exercise and keeps building his strength.”

“Wait a minute. You’re not listening to me. This can’t be—”

“Oh, there’s something else you should know. Gabe has no recollection of where he’s been the past ten years. He believes he was in an accident on his bicycle several weeks ago and that he’s been recuperating.”

“You aren’t leaving him?”

“He’s your son, Mrs. Knight.”

“No, I don’t think you understand. Gabe disappeared years ago. This boy, whoever he is, he can’t possibly be my son.”

The woman paused in the doorway, staring out at the rain, looking wistful. “I know how long he’s been away. And I think I know how difficult it’s going to be for you to accept that he’s home again. But don’t make the effort for yourself, Mrs. Knight. Make it for your son.”

“But he’s not my—”

“Trust me. He’s Gabriel.” The woman stepped off the porch and started down the walkway. She stopped half-way to the curb and turned back momentarily, the rain washing over her face in tendrils. “He still has a chance for a normal life, Mrs. Knight. Both of you still have a chance.”

“But what am I supposed to—”

“Good luck.”

Teri cupped her elbows in her hands and leaned against the doorjamb, feeling wan and confused. She watched the woman climb into her car and pull away from the curb. A cloud of blue smoke spewed out of the tailpipe and dissipated in the rain. The car turned the corner, disappearing from sight long before the sound of its engine faded ghost-like into the patter of raindrops.

Teri stood in the open doorway, watching the way the rain washed over the neighborhood, casting everything under its gray, somber spell. The moment felt strangely dream-like, only this wasn’t a dream. If she had any doubts of that, they were quickly put aside once she made her way back to the living room. The boy had fallen asleep on the couch, curled into a semi-fetal position with the extra pillow tucked between his arms and chest.

In all honesty, she had to admit he did look a little like Gabe. If she could suspend time and put aside the fact that ten years had passed, well, they would both be right around the same age, with the same brown hair, the same build, even the same facial features. But ten years had passed. Gabe would be twenty-one. And there was something else, too. The eyes. Gabe’s eyes had been a wonderful dark brown pool that seemed wise beyond their years. But this boy, his eyes were bluish-green, flecked with gray specks around the outer edges.

Outside, the sound of the rain softened to a quiet murmur.

Inside, the music had come to an end and Teri couldn’t remember how long the house had fallen under the spell of silence. She stared down at the boy a moment longer, watching a rivulet of water run down the side of his face and disappear under his shirt collar.

Who are you? she wondered as she peeled off his jacket. She tossed the damp wind breaker at the coffee table, surprised at how the boy simply rolled over toward the back of the couch and curled up again, undisturbed. Who are you and what are you doing here?

Those questions, like ghosts, haunted Teri as she went down the hall to retrieve a towel from the linen closet. They provided the chill that ran up her spine as she stopped at the door to Gabe’s room and glanced inside. They stood next to her, reminiscing, as she looked past the dust at a room which had been preserved exactly as it had been left. She had only been in here three times since then. Once – so the police could take a look through Gabe’s things. Another time, when she didn’t think she could hold herself together a moment longer and she had come here looking for the strength to get her through another day. And finally, when she had closed the door for what she had thought would be the last time.