Escape

HEART & SOLE

 

I turn over slowly to spoon Harold, the love of my life and feel no warmth. His down pillow is doubled over, his ½ of our blanket is pulled back. Without thinking about it too long, I put on my robe, look in his closet, the bathroom, lean over the railing and call him, 'Howard, where are you? Are you alright?' The house is silent except for my panicky sounds that I barely recognize coming from me.

 

The kitchen is the way I left it, everything neatly put away. As usual, the basement door is closed. I open it, see the early light coming in the back window, enough light so I know Howard isn't down there. The morning paper is in the driveway, next to our car. Fright wells in my throat, makes my heart pound so hard I am sure it is skipping beats.
Our neighbors, the Franks and Williams have gone to work. No one is outside yet. Everything looks normal except my world that has run amuck.

 

The suit Howard wore yesterday is in his closet. His socks and underwear are in the hamper. Piece by piece I go over his closet, can't find a thing missing. There's a new pair of running shoes. Funny he hadn't mentioned them. Totally worried, frightened, puzzled, I plunk myself down on the sofa. Uninvited tears trickle down my cheeks, touch my lips. They taste salty. Terrible, awful thoughts turn my brain to mush. Should I call the police, 911, Howard's boss who I know is still in Hawaii and won't be able to help me? The police, I know from watching so many T.V. mysteries, require a person to be missing twenty four hours before they make any effort to find him. Howard is, at most, gone only seven hours.

 

'Get dressed, Dumbhead,' I say to myself. 'Have a cup of coffee, a sweet. Relax. Wait Howard will call.' But, I can't do that. I get the telephone book out of the kitchen drawer and start calling all the  listed ones in the Yellow pages. None has admitted a patient of his description.

 

It's 10 a.m., not too early to start calling relatives, friends, neighbors. Each negative response lowers my spirits to the last rung on the ladder, until the next call lets me know there are more steps. A gray depression envelopes me.  As soon as I stop making calls, the line is open and calls come in one after the other. 'Has he come back?' ' 'Did he call yet?' 'Want me to come over?' 'No, thank you,' I reply. 'He'll be here soon.' I'm lying to myself. Howard has evaporated. God has called him. He 's walking around naked and has been put in an insane asylum.
Hours drag. I open a can of Progresso tomato bisque, nuke it, burn my tongue.

 

Neighbors won't leave me alone. Alice wants to sleep over. Mildred insists she will bring in fresh bagels and cream cheese 7 in the morning. I tell her not to bother. Howard will be tired and asleep by then. Mildred goes on. 'Great, I'll bring extra cream cheese.'

 

I make a report to the police department. Captain Slovich tells me to stay home, an all points bulletin is going out in fifteen minutes. He'll notify me if any info comes in. I can feel his gentleness as he softly cradles his phone. No word comes.

 

Mildred rings the bell at 7 a.m. She's laden down with a big bag of bagels, maybe enough for the whole neighborhood. There is about a pound of cream and swiss cheese, low fat milk if anybody wants it. I don't want to but am compelled to brew several pots of Starbuck's Special coffee.

 

The police, so far, have not located Howard. I am a mess, want to lay down and die. The house, our bed, gets lonelier and lonelier as the weeks pass into months. Attorneys, are needed. Our financial planner and accountant see to it that I have necessary funds.

 

The time comes for me to actually go into Howard's closet, get his clothes packed for the thrift shop. Mildred comes in to help me. We check all of Howard's pockets, neatly box everything, even the last clothes I remember him wearing. All of his shoes go in a separate box. There are ten pairs, blacks and browns, a couple flip flops. I seal the box.

 

Mildred walks to the door and I stop her cold with my scream. 'Mil, I have to open the cardboard box of shoes. I just remembered something.' I tear away the tape, dump everything on the floor and start counting. There are the ten pairs and flip flops.

 

The brand new running shoes are missing. 'Mildred, its plain now. Howard planned this whole thing. He was ready to run. He did a good job, too. I wonder if someplace there was a pair of lady's shoes just waiting for the right time?'