Alix Ohlin - Signs and Wonders

The police officer, a kindly, portly, gray-haired man with a bristly mustache, was unshaken by this outburst. He persisted in a long line of questioning, his Scottish accent underscoring, somehow, the methodical rhythms of his speech: had Lucas ever disappeared before, what kind of a child was he, had he been known to speak to strangers, had they had an argument? Children could be testy and difficult, especially when traveling or particularly tired. As he spoke he held Lucas’s passport open to the photograph, his stubby thumb so close to the image that, Judith could tell, it was driving Jason insane. Finally he stood up and snatched the passport out of the officer’s hand.

“I’m done answering questions,” he said. “Find my son.”

What to do in a foreign city where your child could be anywhere? Jason couldn’t sit still, and Judith thought she understood. She offered to take Molly back to the hotel while he looked for Lucas. It was early evening now, suppertime.

Jason agreed to this plan with a mechanical nod, then crouched down and gave Molly a hug. “Everything’s going to be fine. Okay, honey? I think Lucas probably just took a wrong turn and got disoriented.”

Heartbreakingly, the child tried to act like she believed him.

She and Molly took a black cab back to the hotel and ate in the restaurant downstairs, each of them just pushing food around the plate for ten minutes, then went back to the room. Somewhere in the city, she knew, Jason was retracing all their steps from both today and yesterday, scrambling frantically through the quaint cobblestone streets and alleys, the crowded maze of a very old city. All those Scottish words they’d laughed and wondered over: what was a close, exactly? What were mews?

As if echoing her own thoughts Molly suddenly sobbed, down in her little cot. “I wish we’d never come to Scotland. Why did we have to come here?”

“Oh, honey,” Judith said, kneeling down and putting her arms around her. Molly’s body felt hot beneath her Dora the Explorer nightgown. “Everything’s going to be fine.” The lack of conviction in her own voice embarrassed her, and she drew the girl closer, pressing her lips to her head. “We’ll find him, don’t worry.”

She was so intent on sounding sure that it took her a moment to register how stiff the girl’s posture was; then she felt a strange pressure on her stomach and realized Molly was fighting her, that her tiny hands were pushing her away as she cried hysterically, her pretty face distorted and monstrous. “This is all your fault,” she said. “It’s all because of you. Get away from me. Get away.”

Judith dropped her arms and awkwardly settled Molly back on the cot, where she curled into a sad little crescent, crying even harder when Judith touched her or adjusted the covers around her. Slinking back to her own bed, with no idea what to do, Judith pulled the blanket over herself. Molly’s tears subsided and she fell asleep, but Judith stayed awake, watching her, feeling like the worst person ever. It was her fault.

For hours she waited in bed as the city outside faded into blackness, wondering where Lucas could be and where Jason was. In a daze, she remembered the dream she’d had on the plane and saw Lucas’s pale face. I’m so sorry, she told him in her mind. She started crying and was somehow still crying when she woke up, a few hours later, to see Jason asleep in the other bed, above the covers, still wearing all his clothes.

In the early morning light she could tell Jason agreed with Molly that this was her fault, and was amazed at her own foolishness, thinking that his sunniness, his composure, his ability to be optimistic even in terrible situations, were permanent conditions. He could only take so much and now, over the breakfast table, as they tried exhaustedly to make a plan, she saw how much he hated her. He was sitting across from her, with Molly in his lap.

“We should check in with the police first,” she said, hoping to sound helpful. Jason nodded dully.

“And then I guess we could make color photocopies of his passport picture and put them up around town with our hotel information. Maybe someone’s seen him.”

“There are so many flyers up for plays during the festival,” Jason said. “People will think it’s part of that.”

“There must be local TV channels,” she went on. “We’ll send a picture to them too.” She felt she was speaking to him across a vast, oceanic distance. He was silent, his whole face drooping.

Finally he said, “Damn it. I’ve got to call Paulina. She’ll know what to do.”

It was the first time he’d ever said anything like that about his first wife, at least in front of Judith, and she felt their future buckle beneath the weight of his words.

The same kindly police officer as before told them there was no news and suggested they go back to the hotel to wait. When Judith raised the question of the local news, he shrugged as if to say they could do whatever they wanted to. So she and Jason called the local news station, spoke to a secretary, and dropped off a photo. Molly was quiet throughout all this, her face drawn and pinched. The streets swarmed with tourists, actors handing out handbills for plays, people dressed in kilts and togas and other costumes, a hive of activity that seemed more sinister with every passing moment. They returned to the Scott monument, and Jason and Molly walked around the crowd holding up pictures of Lucas and asking people if they’d seen him. It had been hours since either of them so much as looked at Judith.

At the top of the monument, looking over the city, Judith thought that it had lost its fairy-tale charm and now was foreboding and sinister. In her mind she again saw Lucas’s pale face, the one in her dream, floating in space.

But he’s not in space, she thought suddenly. He’s in water. The water of Leith: the words came to her and she supposed she’d read them in the guidebook, though it wasn’t something they’d ever discussed going to. Muscling through the crowd, she tugged on Jason’s sleeve and saw, in a heartbreakingly clear second as he was turning around, that he hoped it was Lucas tugging at him, and that when he realized it was her, he felt not just disappointment but hatred, because she’d extended a moment of hope and just as quickly extinguished it.

“I’m going to look for him down by the water,” she said.

“What water? Where?”

“The water of Leith walkway.”

“Where’s that?”

“I don’t know. I just have a feeling, Jason. I can meet you back at the hotel.”

“A feeling ?” He tugged on her sleeve in turn but his touch wasn’t gentle and surely couldn’t be mistaken for a child’s. “What do you know? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Jason,” she sighed. Next to him Molly was shrinking against his leg, as close as another limb. She was fading, this once-bright girl. How much more could she take? “I had a dream on the plane. I didn’t tell you about it. I saw Lucas in some water.”

“You’re telling me about a dream ?” Jason said, his face twisted, agonized. “Judith, my child’s missing and I don’t know where he is or how to find him and you’re telling me about some dream?”

“I’m trying to help, Jason, I promise.”

“I don’t see how rambling on about this is helpful at all.” Underneath this was everything he didn’t say: that she didn’t know what she was talking about, she didn’t know his children, that she was overstepping herself.

Instinctively she backed away, as though he might strike her, a fear she could tell incensed him even more. “I’ll just meet you at the hotel later, okay?” she muttered, and quickly walked off, blinking tears from her eyes.