FORGIVE? YES. FORGET? NO

The table was set as usual for five but my sister didn’t come in for dinner. No message, no call from her. I was only nine but saw the angry faces of my parents. Betty, six years older than I was, should have known better than to worry them. My eighteen year old brother, Greg, was inconsiderate far too often. Sometimes he’d apologize when he came home too late to eat with us and every time would hear Dad say, ‘Don’t do it again. Next time, no car key for a week.’ To my knowledge, Dad never carried out his threat and Greg continued doing as he pleased.

By eight o’clock Mother was worried, took out her private book of Betty’s and Greg’s friends’ phone numbers. Methodically she called Betty’s friends. ‘Jenny, have you seen Betty since school let out?’ ‘No Ma am.’ Each response was ‘no’. Mother looked at Dad, sometimes at me, and just shook her head. At nine they sent me to bed. Looking down at them from the upstairs railing, I saw them sitting close to each other on the sofa, holding hands.

The doorbell woke me. Who could that be in the middle of the night? I heard voices as my parents opened the front door. Two police officers were asked in. Dad said, ‘Our daughter is missing.’Then he answered all kinds of questions. ‘How old is she, height, weight, what was she wearing when you last saw her. Does she take drugs?’ At that my father flew into a rage, ‘No, NO, certainly not!’ A tickle in my throat was out of control, escaped. ‘Go back to bed, Esther.’

The darkness of my room did not soothe me. Sleep was impossible. Where could my sister be? Questions to the air were unanswered until at last my eyes must have closed. Saturday morning filtered into my window. No school today. For just a moment I was happy and then I remembered Betty was gone. Her room was not slept in nor had my parents been to bed. Quietly I went downstairs. Mom and Dad were fully dressed in yesterday’s clothes. They were asleep on the sofa leaning on each other, holding hands. This was not good. I got down on my knees and prayed to god to bring my sister home to us. Mom got up slowly, saw me praying and came over to pray with me. Greg came downstairs, put his arms around us both. Dad stirred. His eyes were red, puffy. Mom looked tired, worn out. None of us spoke except to god.

Dad call Sgt. Bradford, Station ten. ‘No word, Sir. We’ve got an all points bulletin out for your daughter but have heard nothing yet.’ Greg took the phone and went down his list of buddies. Most knew me a little bit. They had nothing to tell us except, ‘Wait. She’ll be back’

I help Mom clean up from last night’s dinner that was supposed to be for five and was only for 3. She threw unrefrigerated left-over meat loaf in the garbage disposal, added the lemon-merigue pie that had turned watery. The four of us sat at the kitchen table eating only enough to silence growling stomachs. Mom cleared the table and re-called Betty’s friends.

Diane had something to say that might be important. ‘Mrs. Mccourt, Betty was really in a bad mood yesterday, angry about Millicent, you know her, don’t you? Well she had been spreading lies about Betty being pregnant. Everybody was whispering. Mrs. McCourt, don’t worry, that wasn’t true. Maybe Betty was too embarrassed to tell you about her former friend. I don’t know if this has anything to do with Betty disappearing but thought I’d better tell you. She’ll come home.’

Mom repeated Diane’s story. I didn’t understand why Betty was so mad. ‘Mom, why didn’t Betty just go have a fight with Millicent. Greg would have helped. I was ignored. Our family vigil lasted until it was almost dark. Officer Madlin brought Betty back from DC. We were a family of five again. Poor Betty. She was almost smothered in hugs. Words, words, words, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ poured from Betty’s quivering lips. ‘Mom, the money you always make me carry for emergencies got me on the bus to DC. I ate a little in the station, slept on a hard, miserable bench all night and then walked over to the zoo. I didn’t know what to do. A policeman asked me questions, put me in his car and here I am. ‘I’m sorry, so sorry. But I hurt a lot and needed space.

Forgive me, please, please forgive me!’ Mom did. Dad did. I did.
And my brother never missed dinner with us again without letting Mom know he couldn’t make it.