Cheryl Tardif - Children of the Fog

She flinched at the hurt she saw in her mother’s eyes.

“Give me some space, Mom. I’ll call you if I need you.”

“You promise?” Her mother was weeping.

“Go back to the States. There’s nothing more you can do.”

Her parents left the next morning, depressed and defeated.

Sadie spent the day wading through paperwork. Then she called the realtor that Philip had found.

“Any news on the house?”

“We’ve got a buyer,” the man said. “The deal’s been finalized and the money’ll be in the bank by tomorrow. How much time do you need?”

“I’ll be out of here in a few days.”

Jay called later that day.

“That bastard has us by the balls,” he vented. “The balloon, the note, the bombs—they’re all dead ends. But we’re still hoping something will come up.”

Sensing his frustration, Sadie thanked him and hung up. She’d watched enough Missing and Without a Trace to know that with each passing day there was less possibility that The Fog would ever be caught.

The following day, she stood in front of Sam’s door. Holding her breath, she opened it and a rush of emotion bombarded her. This was the last place she had seen Sam alive, where she had watched a murderer take him away. She should have fought harder. Done something more. Remorse ate at her, broiling in her stomach and threatening to spew forth.

She shifted in a slow circle, taking in Sam’s fuzzy slippers, the autographed baseball bat, his clothes… the empty bed. She sat down on it. Then she lay back and stared up at the same ceiling her son had looked at for six years. With her finger, she drew an invisible infinity symbol in the air. Again and again.

“I miss you, Sam.”

She turned on her side, gripped his favorite blanket and cried until she was drained of everything, until an idea that had been brewing since the day Sam had died became the only thing she could focus on. She couldn’t— wouldn’t —live without Sam, and there was only one way to be with him.

With a heavy heart, she began the daunting task of packing away his room. Every object seemed to be haunted by another memory, each one cutting her heart even deeper than the last. It took hours of battling emotions, memories and tears before she was done.

Then she wandered through the house. The house they had brought Sam home to when things had been happy. Memories of him were everywhere. Like ghostly dust bunnies, they haunted every nook and cranny. She wanted to ignore them, but she couldn’t. His first steps, his first tumble down the stairs, his first birthday party.

His last.

“Everything’s different now,” she whispered.

Sam was gone. Philip was gone. Her life as she knew it was gone. Everything had dissolved around her.

Anger bubbled rebelliously to the surface, like a tablet of antacid in water. Plop, plop. Fizz, fizz…

But there was no relief in sight. Except in one thing.

Don’t do it, Sadie!

But she couldn’t resist fate.

She grabbed another bottle of Screaming Eagle Cabernet from Philip’s secret stash. That left three in the drawer. She considered taking them too, but then changed her mind.

“I’ll save you for something special.”

Upstairs in the bedroom, she miserably flopped in the chair by the window and cranked up the antique radio on the windowsill. She needed something heavy, something to give her momentum, so she turned the dial until she heard the pounding bass of a rap song pumping out a rhythmic beat. A deep voice boomed scarcely recognizable lyrics about a woman walking out on her man.

“I axed you why…” the rapper sang.

Sadie held the bottle in the air. “To a life well axed.”

She’d grown accustomed to drinking straight from the bottle and she tipped it back, taking a long swig. The wine’s initial bitter flavor didn’t shock her anymore and she savored its warmth as it trailed down her throat. Each mouthful enveloped her in mind-numbing calmness.

“What now?” she murmured.

In a burst of sudden clarity, she made two decisions.

First, she took a pair of scissors into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. Between gulps of wine, she chopped off her long black locks to just below her ears. She felt no regret as she watched the strands waft to the floor. When she was done, there was more hair on the floor than on her head.

She stared at her hollow, shadowed eyes. “I’m nothing. Just an empty shell.”

After sweeping up the hair and depositing it into the garbage can, she wandered back to the bedroom to prepare for her second decision. Setting the bottle on the nightstand, she pulled two suitcases out of the closet and tossed them on the bed.

“There’s one thing left to do,” she slurred. “But you can’t do it here.” She paused, her hand hovering near the zipper of a suitcase. “Well, you could, but it might not go over well with the new homeowners.” She giggled drunkenly.

There was an unexpected knock on the door.

Sadie slipped the half-empty wine bottle in the recycle bin just seconds before Leah poked her head inside.

“Can I come—? Sadie! What did you do to your hair?”

“I cut it.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Leah replied, moving into the room.

Sadie’s patience was wearing thin. “I didn’t hear the doorbell.”

“I rang it a few times, but when you didn’t answer, I got worried. I let myself in through the garage.” Leah spied the suitcases on the bed. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What’s it look like? I’m leaving.”

“But you can’t just leave.”

“Watch me.”

“What about Philip? And the trial?”

Sadie tossed three pair of jeans into one of the cases. “There’s nothing for me here anymore. I need to get away.”

An uncomfortable silence permeated the room.

Leah sat down on the bed. When she finally spoke, her voice emitted quiet acceptance. “So where will you go?”

“Anywhere but here.”

She placed Sam’s photograph and a heavy photo album on top of her clothes. Then she zipped the suitcase shut. In the second suitcase, she packed away the plastic container that held all the newspaper clippings. Lastly, she tucked in the portfolio case.

“Are you going to finish Sam’s book?” Leah asked.

“It’ll be the last thing I do for him.”

“Maybe it is a good idea. Take some time, get away for a bit.”

Sadie nodded. “You’ve been a great friend, Leah. A better one than me.”

“No, that’s what friends are for. I’m here for you. I’ll watch your house while you’re gone, until you get back.”

Sadie shook her head. “It’s been sold.”

Leah’s brow arched in shock. “What? I didn’t know you were selling.” There was an accusatory edge to her voice.

“Look, I can’t explain this. Things are different now. Now that Sam’s… gone.”

“Yeah, but running away won’t solve anything. Jesus, Sadie! What’s happening to you?”

In her anger, Leah backed into the recycle bin. When she looked down and spotted the wine bottle, she shook her head in disappointment. “Sadie, this isn’t what you want—”

“Don’t lecture me! I’m tired of everyone telling me how to act, what to do, how to feel. My son was taken from me, blown up right in front of my eyes. And it’s my fault. So if I need to get away, that’s what I’ll do. If I need to drink, I’ll drink. You don’t understand, Leah. You never will.”

Leah blinked tearfully. “You’re right. I don’t understand. Because you won’t talk to me. You’ve closed me off, shut me out. And now you’re drinking again? Sam wouldn’t want this, my friend.”

Sadie clenched her jaw. “Don’t tell me what my son would want.” Then she added, “Make sure you lock the front door on your way out.”