My ex,
Freddie, is, and probably always will be, the biggest idiot I've ever known. I
mean the guy took our two year old son for a ride on a motorcycle for god's
sake. Sitting on his lap! But only once, I might add, because, man, did I gave him
the shit when I found out. Big time.
Oh sure, in the beginning when we
were both juniors in high school and starting to date I'll admit that I was drawn to his tall thin
frame, dark brooding looks and long wavy hair - he really did remind me of what
I imagined a poet from the Renaissance would look like. And the sex was good,
too, I'll cop to that right now. Great, even. So back then I cut him a lot of
slack. But flash forward ten years and things have changed. We've been married for
five years and have five year old Kenny and three year old Laura. We've just
bought a house in the little town of Long Lake and Freddie is happily living on
workmen's comp due to falling off a ladder at the construction site where he
was working and I see him for the lazy, self centered, good for nothing slob he
really is. Now all he's capable of doing in lying around our tiny home playing
on the Xbox or fooling around in the backyard with his crap Harley, smoking
weed and drinking beer and having his friends over to party while I work as a
teacher's aide at the middle school in Orono and clerk at the Holiday gas station
down the road from us for extra money. Well, if you'd seen me back then you'd have
seen me grow from being sort of pissed off to major league pissed off in the
course of those five long years of marriage not to mention all the time I spent
putting up his worthlessness. Plus, you'd see me on the verge of booting him
out.
Flash forward another five years to
now and you'll find me happier than I've been in a long time because I've not
only booted his worthless ass out but I've finally divorced the lazy SOB. Last
month was the second year anniversary of that red letter day. These days I'm
focused on my kids and both my jobs and I'm trying to move on. I'm still pissed
off at him, I'll tell you that right up front, but now it's just on general
principles, like that thing having to do with Jake.
Maybe you read about it in the newspaper:
the time last August when that little girl, Sally Carthwight, went missing? Oh,
I'll tell you I was going nuts, freaking out and worried like most everyone
else in our tiny, close-knit community about the fate of the little four year
old. I even joined in one of the many search parties that were quickly
organized to comb the woods and swamps around town to look for her. And, like
thousands of others, I was wildly happy when little Sally was found curled up
and scared but safe in a garden shed after only having been gone from 4:00 pm
on Wednesday until 6:00 am on Thursday. But the true scare for me, and
unbeknownst to everyone else, was that while she was missing so was Jake, who
was under the care of my stupid ex, and who knew what Jake might do, especially
if he came across cute little Sally.
I got it from Kenny, my ten year old,
who told me innocently, "Daddy's snake got away." He relayed this
information to me on Tuesday morning, the day after Jake made it's infamous
escape from Freddie and the day before little Sally wandered off. Kenny and
Laura had just been dropped off by Freddie's new girlfriend after their one
night every two weeks court ordered visit with their dad. (Apparently he
couldn't be bothered to bring his own kids home to me, busy as he was sleeping or
getting stoned or something.) I had just plopped down a bowl of cheerios on the
kitchen table for their breakfasts, since they each told me right off coming in
the back door that they were 'Starving, Mom.' Feeding his children wasn't high
on my ex's priority list, either, I guess.
"Yeah," Kenny added, getting
back to the snake discussion while digging in and shoveling a super sized
spoonful into his mouth, "Dad's kind of worried,"
Well, I went crazy, absolutely bat
shit bonkers. I started screaming and threw the box of cereal across the
kitchen and then kicked it causing cheerios to explode all over the place. I picked
up the newspaper from the counter and flung it in the air and punched the pages
as they fell to the ground. Next I slammed my hand against the back door frame and
then punched it for good measure, which hurt. A lot. In fact, I'm surprised I
didn't break any fingers. But my actions did temper my anger somewhat and cause
me to get control of myself. I stomped around the tiny kitchen for a few
minutes before finally starting to calm down. When I felt I had myself under
control I went to the back door and looked out into my small, shaded backyard,
seeing only the red rage in my brain. What the hell was Freddie thinking? One,
what's the deal with him having a snake? And, two, what's the deal with him
having my kids over when there was a snake around, escaped or not?
Eight year old Laura piped in,
trying to calm me, "It's Ok, Mommy. Daddy says Jake's not really
dangerous."
I was on the phone before I could get
the phase, "I'll kill that son-of-a bitch," out of my mouth.
Turns out that Jake was an eleven
foot long python, if you could believe it. Yeah, a python and Freddie was,
"Snake sitting for a friend," as he called it, when I got him on the
line was able to finally to control myself enough to talk coherently.
"A snake? A python? Are you
kidding me? You're the biggest dumb-ass I've ever heard of, having something
like that around the kids." I paused to take a breath and then added,
"I'm going to call the cops if you keep this up."
"Now, now, Bethie Button,"
he said to me, chuckling and using a term of endearment from our past he had no
right to invoke, "Don't get so worked up." I could see his confident
grin spreading over the phone like oozing slime and, man, the vision of it just
made me madder.
Seems that Freddie had a friend who
had the python and he was taking care of the big reptile while the friend was
serving twenty-one days in the workhouse for being drunk and disorderly at a
Memorial Day celebration in Minneapolis located twenty miles east of Long Lake.
Nice friends, I thought to myself, listening in amazement while Freddie told me
the story, wondering what I'd ever seen in him in the first place. Oh, yeah,
the wavy hair, the brooding good looks, the great sex.
"Well, the kids aren't going back
over there until that snake is gone," I told him in no uncertain terms,
forgetting for a minute that it already was, "I mean, long gone, like back
with your friend."
"I'm going outside again to
look for him some more right now," he told me, "Me and Ronnie."
Ronnie. What a stupid name for the
bitch who was now Freddie's new girlfriend for the last, what, month? If I had
a nickel for every tattoo I'd seen on the slut I'd be able to buy a new car
instead of the piece of crap twenty five year old Honda I was driving. Add in
the ones I couldn't see and I'd probably be able to buy my kids each a new
bicycle, too.
"Well, you'd better hurry and
find it then," I told him, "I've heard those things are
dangerous." I shivered when I slammed the phone down.
My grandmother grew up on a farm in
northwestern Minnesota that was regularly inundated with six foot long bull
snakes (harmless, but still, six feet of snake is a lot of snake.) She passed
that fear on to my mom who tried to pass it on to me but failed. I don't love
snakes, but I don't hate them either. Live and let live is my motto, but still,
a python is not like the little garter snakes I'm used to seeing when I'm
working in the yard, not by a long shot. Python's ate things, even big things
sometimes, so in my book Jake was something to worry about.
When Freddie and I divorced, I kept
the house we'd bought three years after Kenny was born. Freddie and I made it
for a couple of long and unhappy years before I was finally done with his
wasted ways and I kicked him out for good. He didn't move far away. In a moment
of benevolent parenting fervor, saying that he wanted to be close to the kids, he
rented a dilapidated garage a half mile from me out on the edge of town. It was
on the property of the guy who owned the construction company where Freddie was
injured - a guy called Cameron, who was rich and who apparently felt sorry for
my idiotic ex. But Freddie's always been lucky that way, always seems to find a
way to get people to feel sorry for him, always seems to have friends around to
help him out. In short, always seems to get by. Me, I have to work two jobs to
make ends meet (just barely.) But I'm not complaining (much) it just seems that
Freddie's not only a lazy good for nothing SOB, but he's supremely lucky, too.
Luckier than me, anyway.
So strike that comment about
complaining because I guess I am. But least I have the kids and that counts for
a lot in my book no matter how difficult it is to pay the bills, keep my home
and stay out of debt, which I pride myself on doing. Whatever the case, Freddie
calls the junked out garage home, but I know better: peeling paint, rummy
looking roof, crap laying around inside and out. You can't fool me - it's a
piece of shit shack that's a poor excuse for a place to live and I only let the
kids go there because it's close and they can run home to me anytime they want if
they need to and, besides, he's their father after all, and has a right to see his
son and daughter (I'm not a complete jerk, just protective of my children.)
The point is, a half a mile away...was
that close enough for a python to get to me and my kids? I looked it up on my
iPad. Yeah, it was.
Shit.
I was off from my teacher's aide job
for the summer, but still worked at the Holiday station for extra cash. I
didn't have to go in until three that Tuesday afternoon, so I spent the rest of
the day patrolling my yard with one of Kenny's aluminum baseball bats, keeping
on the lookout for the python. I had no idea what I'd do if I found it, but I
couldn't just sit and let the big reptile come to me, could I?
When I left for work a little before
three I told the kids to stay inside until I got home, hoping they'd mind me -
they usually did. I tried to put the fear of god in them before I left.
"Do you know that a python like
that could swallow each of you whole, one after the other, and then spend a
week or two slowly digesting you until you were nothing but a gooey glob of
guck in its stomach? How'd you like that?"
I'm not sure my statement was true
or not, but the way their eyes went wide I could tell I made my point.
"Just stay inside. I'll be home by nine-fifteen." I said over my
shoulder as I left, "And don't go out of the house for any reason whatsoever."
I turned and gave them my best evil-eye mom look, "I mean it," I said
pointing my finger at each of them, "Stay right here."
I'm pretty sure they followed my instructions
because when I got home that evening their bikes were parked exactly where they'd
been left out back along side of the garage. It being August in Minnesota,
there was still enough light for me to grab Kenny's baseball bat and do a quick
check around both the front and backyards, looking behind bushes and checking
around the foundation of the little single story rambler I call home. No
python. But let me tell you, by the time I got inside and curled up on the
couch with the kids and a big bowl of popcorn to watch one of the Minions
movies, my nerves were shot.
Laura, my skinny, bookish, daughter
lay her head on my shoulder and said, "Mommy, don't worry about anything.
Daddy told us Jake was really a nice snake."
Snake maybe, python no. I'd read up
on them on my iPad at work. There's no such thing as a nice python, a reptile
that could suck down a baby fawn in the blink of an eye, is what I was
thinking, but Laura was a sweet little freckled red head who reminded me of the
main character in my favorite book when I was growing up, 'Anne of Green
Gables,' and I didn't want to scare her (much) and lay my concern about her or
Kenny being swallowed alive on her so I told her, "I'm not worried, honey,
just tired." I shuddered as I said it, picturing a huge python wrapping
itself around...I shuddered some more, but in spite of all the shuddering I'm
pretty sure I was able to convince my gentle daughter that everything was going
to be alright. I even managed to convince myself. Boy was I a good liar.
I spent the morning the next day,
Wednesday, cleaning the house while the kids watched cartoons until I turned
the television off and told them to entertain themselves which they did, Laura
by reading and Kenny by building a Lego model of some Star Wars thing. Then I
fixed grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch and when that was over, and since I
was still not excited about any of us going outside, the kids and I commandeered
the kitchen table and started playing board games. Even though we were stuck
(trapped?) indoors with no air-conditoner on a hot summer day (the temperature
was near ninety degrees outside) the three of us rose to the occasion and by the
middle of the afternoon we were deep into a marathon game of monopoly and
having a pretty fun time.
Then I got a panicky call from my
friend Sara, "Beth did you hear? Sally Carthwright's gone missing."
Well, talk about the shit hitting
the fan. My adrenaline kicked in, roaring through my body like a tidal wave and
my mind went into overdrive with motherly concern as my heart went on to Sally and
her parents. I could only imagine what they were going through because if it
were me in their position, I'd be a blithering idiot and out of my mind with
worry. Then I jumped to the fact that Jake the python was on the loose and a
icy horror set in(I was assuming he still was still gone since I hadn't heard
otherwise from Freddie.) What would happen to little four year old Sally if the
big python came across her? Well, with that picture firmly implanted in my
mind, I really did lose it. I started yelling a bunch of blathering non-sense,
but I know at one point I must have screamed, "What?!" because Sara
yelled back at me, "What?!" and we went back and forth screaming "What?!"
until I realized I needed to get a grip.
"Sorry," I told my friend,
"But it's really freaking me out about Sally." Which was only half
the reason for my outburst, if that much. I was also major league freaking out
about the python slithering around our town somewhere (I tried not to image it
laying in wait in the bushes outside my backdoor), but I couldn't tell that to
Sara. I know it sounds weird, but I still felt some weird allegiance to that
stupid ex of mine, no matter how crazy it seems. I guess it's because we do
have a history, as they say, and after all these years I've just not been able
to get him completely out of my mind nor, for that matter, my system. Believe
me, it's a statement I'm not proud to make, but there it is, the ugly truth rearing
its ugly head for all its ugly worth.
"No shit, Sherlock," was
what she told me, wrenching me away from my carnal thoughts of Freddie and back
to the present and the reality of the situation as far as little Sally was
concerned, "It's freaking me out, too."
Sara filled me in on what she'd
heard, "I guess Sally was being baby sat by her grandparents over near
Watertown Road and Willow Way." I knew the location well. It was an area
of forests and meadows and ponds that eventually lead out to farmland further to
the west and was country as rugged as you'd expect to find only twenty miles
from a major metropolitan city like Minneapolis. Our little town was named
after picturesque Long Lake and is built on its western shore. Our population
is just under two thousand, mostly blue collar workers who like the peace and
quiet small town living afforded them. But in the last ten years or so richer
people have started moving in, buying up big two to five acre lots and building
huge McMansions out where Sally went missing. Her grandparents fell into that
category, having moved in only about three years ago.
"How long's she been
gone?" My heart was racing, imagining how I would feel if one of my own
kids turned up missing.
"Since around four this
afternoon," Sara told me. I looked at the clock on the wall over the sink.
It read a few minutes after five. Missing for one hour."I guess the
grandfather had gone on an errand and the grandmother had fallen asleep. Sally
just wandered off."
"Can we do anything?" I
reached out to Laura who was standing nearby and pulled her to me, holding her
close and needing to feel the warmth of her little body and smell the sweet
strawberry shampoo aroma of her hair. It helped mitigate my fear for the lost
child but only a little.
"That's why I'm calling. Betty Farnsworth
from Our Savior sent out an email. We can meet at the police station at
five-thirty to organize into search parties. I'm going. Are you in?"
I didn't have to think, "Yeah,
I told her." Then I thought about leaving Kenny and Laura home by
themselves, something I didn't want to do. "I'm bringing the kids."
"Sounds good," Sara said,
"I'm bringing mine, too." Sara's twins, Caleb and Emma, were just a
few years older than Kenny and all four of our childrengot along well.
I hung up the phone and got myself
and my kids ready. The police station was down the hill and across the highway,
only a minute or two drive from me. I grabbed the baseball bat and ran out the door
into the backyard thinking I had time for one more check to see if Jake was
around. A minute later I was back inside. He wasn't anywhere that I could tell,
a thought that was only partly comforting given that he could be lurking anywhere,
perhaps digesting some poor unfortunate creature. I shivered for about the
hundredth time in the last day at the thought.
"Come on kids," I yelled,
"We're going to look for a lost girl." They both ran into the kitchen
where I was fixing a small backpack of bottled water and snacks. I tossed some
mosquito repellant in, too, as I quickly filled them in on what was going on.
"I want you to be on your best behavior and do what I say while we're out
there, understand?"
Laura looked at me wide eyed and
said, "Ok."
Kenny said, "Ok," thought
for a moment, then asked, "What about Jake?"
"Yeah, mommy, what about
him?" Laura chimed in.
I knelt down so I was looking them
both eye to eye. "We say nothing about Jake to anyone, Ok? Not a word."
Then I added, "We don't want your dad to get into trouble, right?"
Kenny and Laura adored their father and playing my 'We don't want your dad to
get into trouble' card was one I used on occasion to get them to do something I
really wanted them to do. This was one of those times.
They both solemnly nodded their
heads in agreement.
"Ok, then, let's go."
We trooped out the back door (my
eyes scanning under the bushes for you know who), got in the car and raced down
to the village hall, where the police station was. All the while I was
wondering why I was protecting Freddie.
I should have just told the cops about the python being on the loose and be
done with the whole mess. It was the certainly the right course of action but I
couldn't bring myself to do it. Once again I was falling under the spell of my
ex-husband, the father of my kids, the guy who still somehow fired up my former
feelings for him no matter how harmful they might be.
We couldn't park in the parking lot,
it was too full, so we stashed the car down the block and hurried back. It
seemed most of the town had turned out to search for little Sally who now had
been missing for an hour and a half. Jake the python had been missing for over
a day. I attempted to wipe out a possible collision course between the two from
my brain and was only moderately successful. Trying to quell my shaking body
and the shivers running up and down my spine, I hustled the kids inside. We
fought through the crowded foyer before making our way into the packed city
council meeting room. I looked around and found Sara along with Caleb and Emma,
her eleven year old twins, standing against the wall along one side. I made my
way to her and we hugged a quick greeting while our kids all said hi to each
other.
Sara was five feet seven and had the
slim build of a committed runner although she never did a bit of exercising,
one of the many traits we shared. A distinctive feature of hers was a mass of thick
and wavy dark red hair that fell well past her shoulders. This evening she had
it pulled back into a pony-tail and held it in place with a forest green
headband which also set off her light blue eyes and smattering of freckles
along her prominent cheekbones. All in all, she was extremely striking looking
in a very good way. Her appearance was in sharp contrast to my five feet one
inch, rather stocky frame and close cropped auburn hair. Athletic looking I was
not. I sometimes thought of the two of us as those cartoon characters, Mutt and
Jeff, with Sara being the tall one (I forget which was which.) We've been close
friends for the last three years, ever since I stopped to help her when her car
had a flat tire out on the highway a few miles from town (I provided the
car-jack, we both provided the muscle.) We immediately bonded over the poor
choices we'd made of men in our lives, she being recently divorced back then,
me soon to be.
The chief of police called the
meeting together, thanked us for attending and filled us in enough to let us
know that there were no new developments. Then he turned the floor over to a Search
and Rescue team from Hennepin County. The leader, a tall, blond, athletic woman
named Steph who looked like she could jog to Alaska and back with only a
daypack, gave us an overview of what she wanted from us: follow instructions,
stay together and keep our eyes alert for anything not normal (like a python, I
grimly thought to myself.) Then she broke the crowd into search parties of approximately
twenty each. With all of the people volunteering, there were nearly twenty five
groups.
Our search leader was a short, thin,
chiseled man around thirty, with a three day beard and with a shaved head, who
looked like a tri-athletic. His name was Randy and he met us outside in
the parking lot.
"Ok, you all," he said by
way of greeting, "You heard what Steph said. Any questions?" Everyone
silently shook their heads. "Alright, we've got a lot of ground to cover.
Let's get to it." He was confident and no-nonsense, and I immediately felt
like we were in good hands.
"Yeah, let's go," I
blurted out, suddenly feeling a rare form of solidarity with my group. I'm
usually a person who prefers time spent alone with my kids or Sara. But this
was a different and certainly an extraordinary situation.
Randy looked at me and smiled a
quick smile and then went back to business. He took out a big contour map of
the area and knelt down as he unfolded it and lay it on the ground. Our search
group gathered around as best we could. He looked up at us, deadly serious, and
pointed to the map, "We're covering the area along the Lucy Line Trail
between Brown Road and Leaf Street. It's a mile long section. Do you all know
where it is?"
We all did. It was about a quarter
of a mile from where Sally went missing and a mile from where we now stood.
"Ok, then. I'll give finally
instructions once we get there." He grimaced as he glanced at his watch, a
complicated looking device that looked like weighed a couple of pounds and
said, "Time's wasting." He stood up quickly while folding his map,
"Let's go."
The kids and I carpooled with Sara,
and she drove us to the where Brown Road met with the Lucy Line, a seventy five
mile long dirt trail used by walkers, joggers, bicycle riders and horseback
riders. It was maintained by the DNR and ran from Minneapolis out to central
Minnesota on an old railroad bed. The area we were to search was hilly and thickly
forested with numerous swamps and ponds were tossed in for good measure. It was
rough land and going to be a bitch to work through. Add to that the fact that
we had to keep our attention focused and on the lookout for a scared little
four year old girl while also protecting ourselves from hordes of swarming black
flies, ticks and misquotes that we'd be encountering, all of which were
hungrily waiting to suck our blood and then eat us alive, not to mention it was
stifling hot and humid and muggy out - well, we definitely had our work cut out
for us. And, of course, I had something other than searching for Sally on my
mind: that damn python, Jake.
Sara was my best friend, someone I
confided in if ever I needed to talk. On the ten minute drive to the trial I
decided to tell her about the missing reptile. I spoke quickly and filled her
in on the python and Freddie and how he had been taking care of it but the big
snake had somehow got loose and now was slithering around free as you please in
the general area. The thought of it possibly being nearby made me move closer
to Sara even though we were still in her car, a newish Prius, which I assumed
was python proof.
Sara did not take a passive stance
when I finished my story, "What the hell?" She screamed, slamming her
hand on the steering wheel, "What the friggin' hell?" She yelled
again, just a notch below her previous
volume and slammed her hand once more for good measure. She was obviously
shocked, if not at the same time at a loss for words. I have to admit, now that
I'd gotten the story out into the light of day for someone else to hear about,
the whole thing sounded too weird to be true. But the fact of the matter was
that, unfortunately, it wasn't.
I really had nothing to add in my
defense so I just waited for her to calm down. I stared out the window, looking
under every bush we drove past for the python. In a minute she'd simmered down
a bit but was still mad enough at me to spit out an, "Are you nuts? You
need to call the cops and report it," just for good measure, but I could
tell her anger was dissipating. She's taught tenth grade biology at the local high
school for fourteen years and is used to dealing with all kinds of issues,
especially regarding unruly, hormone driven teenagers. Having me as a friend
was probably pretty similar to what she had to deal with on a daily basis
although she's always been kind enough never to mention it.
She did, however, mince no words
when she by-passed the python issue and went straight to a different point, a
point that was a sore spot between the two of us, "I know you still see Freddie
occasionally. What's going on there? Are you comfortable protecting him while
that python's on the loose?"
I probably should say right now that
I still sort of have a thing for my insane ex husband. We've even gotten
together more than a few times in the two years since the divorce under the
guise of quote un-quote talking, but it's usually led to me spending the night
at his ratty old garage slash shack. I've confided this to Sara before and,
even though she thinks I'm nuts, her opinion is that my attraction to him has
nothing to do with anything logical (which I can readily attest to) and more to
do with something more 'Rudimentary,' as she called it (which sort of made
sense, once she explained it to me.)
"It's simple a case of your
brain, or more specifically your hypothalamus, taking over," she said a
few years ago when I first told her what was happening, "Thinking has
nothing to do with it. It's all about your need for sex."
When she initially told me this I got
good and mad and argued vehemently against her accusation. How could she dare think
that? I hated the guy. He was a lazy, good for nothing son-of-a-bitch with not
one thing going for him except two great kids who happened to be mine (well,
his too, of course, but still...) I was the primary care-giver and the main
source of income and security for Kenny and Laura. He only saw them two days a
month for god's sake! (I'm sorry but here I go again, getting all wound up.)
The point is, and the point Sara was trying to make back then and still
believes to this day, is that I'm attracted to Freddie for nothing other than
pure and simple physical need. While we're at it you might as well add in the
fact that he was still good looking enough to push a few of my buttons - in a
good way, if you know what I mean. Then toss in the intense pleasure he gives
me on those rare occasions we get together and maybe you can see my conundrum. Or
maybe not, but I am putting my hand on a bible right now and making a promise
that that's all there is too it. I don't, I repeat, don't, want to get back
with him - a statement I keep telling myself every time I've been with him. The
truth is, I know that I should just end it and be done with him for good and
forever. I really should, but, the problem is, I never do.
Thinking about this all on the drive
over to the Lucy Line it occurred to me that I really was being an idiot about
the whole thing. What I should do after this fiasco with the missing child and
the missing python is over is this: finally and definitely end it with Freddie
- for now and for all time. Yeah, that's for sure the best course of action. The
reasonable thing to do.The smart thing to do.
But, unfortunately, I knew myself
well enough to know I was just blowing smoke. I was still in deep with the guy,
hard as it was to admit.
I looked out the window at the
passing neighborhood of big homes and big yards where Sally's grandparents
lived and wondered if Jake was out there. Well, of course he was, but where?
That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question. And that was the question that
drove lustful thoughts of my good for nothing ex right out of my mind because right
now there were other things to worry about, mainly finding little Sally before the
big python did.
But Sara wasn't quite finished with
me. She had one more thing to add, one more sharp ended point to make and to
jab deep into me just as we were arriving at the search area. "From a
biological standpoint my friend," she said, grimly, taking her eyes off
the road for an instant and drilling them into me, "You need to know that
there are some things that are hard to control." She clicked on the
turn-signal before finishing her thought, "Your need for sex and that
python's need to eat."
Geez. Thanks a lot for the reminder.
I looked into the back seat. The four
kids were sitting with their eyes wide and their mouths hanging open, not
saying a thing. I turned around and looked out the front window and thought, man,
what have I gotten myself into?
Sara applied the brakes and brought
the car to a stop. We got out to join the other searchers. I looked at her as
we walked toward them and my friend put a comforting arm around my shoulder,
saying, "It's Ok, kiddo. It is what it is," meaning me and Freddie, I
figured, "We can talk more later. Now, let's go find that little
girl."
Which made as much sense as
anything.
As we walked up to the group Randy
clapped his hands together to get our attention. "Ok, gang, listen, up. Here's
what I want you to do," and he gave us our final instructions.
We were to follow the Lucy Line to
the west and we used it as the boundary for the southern edge of the area we
were searching. Most of us dropped down off the trail into the underbrush of
the forest canopy and spread out in a ragged line roughly ten feet apart to the
north. Then we walked to the west for one mile scanning with our eyes and,
later, with our head lamps and flashlights. Walking was a generous term for
what we were doing because it really was the bitch I thought it'd be. With the
heat and humidity it was hard to breathe, feeling more like we were in a jungle
in the middle of the Amazon than a forest in Minnesota. We fought our way
through dense underbrush and brambles, the operative word here being fought. The
woods were thick with small saplings that slapped us in the face and in a few
minutes we all had cuts, some bleeding more than others. Brush and vines and
lots of other gnarly stuff grabbed at us, impeding our progress and slowing us
down to slower than a crawl. At times I wished I had a machete to cut through all
the crap and vegetation in my way. It was exhausting, hard going for all of us,
but no one complained, not one bit. We were all focused on finding Sally. Me, I
was on double alert, also keeping on the lookout for the big python. I never
saw him.
When we were done with our first
sweep we were hot and dirty, tired and physically spent. We took a quick break,
downing gallons of water and about a dozen energy bars each, all the while trying
not to collapse from heat exhaustion. Then we turned around, spread out in a
line further to the north and worked our way back to our starting point. We
finished around midnight, filthy and sweaty and so tired we were hardly able to
move, let alone talk to one another. We hadn't found anything of interest
relating to the missing girl. We did, however, find five bicycles, a three
kitchen sinks, at least ten tires, a few mattresses, some old televisions and
various other pieces of junk. But no Sally. And no Jake, either, thank god (I
think.)
Back at the trail head Randy called our
mosquito and gnat bitten, worn out group together and thanked us for our
effort.
"You did real good,
folks," he said, wiping away the sweat from his forehead with the yellow
bandana he'd been wearing, before taking a long slug from a water bottle, "Really
good. It's too late to do much more now although I know we all still want
to." We all grimly nodded our agreement. I drank water and made the kids
drink, too, before dumping the rest of a bottle over my head, trying to cool
off. It didn't help. "The main thing is, though," he continued,
"We need to get re-hydrated and get some rest. How many of you want to continue
to search tomorrow? I'm planning to start at seven in the morning."
We all raised our hands, even Kenny
and Laura and Sara's kids. Randy smiled, "That's the spirit. That's great.
We'll meet back at the community center in the morning then and make
assignments. We might move to another search area." He waved and we all
said good-bye and then Sara drove us back to town so I could pick up my car. We
were there in ten minutes.
"You doing Ok?" she asked.
I'd gotten Kenny and Laura into the Honda where they flopped in the backseat completely
done in, moments away from falling into a deep sleep. Sara's kids were already
sacked out in the back of the Prius. I was standing outside my car, leaning
against the side brushing some stray bugs away from my face and picking a wood
tick off my arm, barely able to keep on my feet but not yet ready to leave the
comfort of my friend.
"I am," I told her,
flicking the wood tick away, "I just don't know why I do the things I do,"
Meaning with Freddie, but Sara knew that.
"I just want you to be
safe," she said, "And not do anything to hurt yourself."
Sara had told me this a hundred
times before. It was good advice and advice that I should have been taking so why
didn't I? Could I simply chalk my reluctance to do the right thing - dump Freddie
and move on - up to not being able to control myself and, as Sara so bluntly
put it, my reptile lust? Was I that pathetic? Was I really just like that creepy
python lying in wait out there somewhere, looking for some poor unsuspecting animal
(or worse, human!) to eat, except in my case it was me looking to have sex with
my ex? Yeah, I guess when you put it that way, I was pathetic.
I shook my head. I was just too
tired to think about me and Freddie anymore. It was Little Sally who we had to
worry about and keep our attention focused on. God only knew what she was going
through right now. I felt a sudden surge of concern flow through me and blinked
back a tear, thinking about Sally's parents and what they must now be feeling. This
would be the longest night of their lives, and they had to be going insane with
worry. I know I would be. I couldn't wait to begin searching again, bug bites
and exhaustion notwithstanding. Tomorrow morning couldn't come soon enough.
I gave Sara a big, hard, hug.
"You're a good friend. I wish I was stronger."
She blurted out a laugh and, in this
stressful night, I have to say that her laughter sounded wonderful and gave me
a much needed emotional boost. "Don't worry, Beth," she said, "You're
a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. I've know you long enough to
know that. You'll eventually do the right thing and move on from that loser of
an ex of yours."
I gave her another tight hug before
letting her go, all the while thinking that they were nice words to hear even though
I had a massive amount of trouble believing them.
We said our final good-nights and
good-byes and I drove home. Our little town is always peaceful, especially at
night, and, in spite of the emotional furor of Sally being missing tonight was
no different. I only saw one or two cars on the road, though I did count myself
unexpectedly lucky to see a fox. The beautiful, rufus-red, animal had a thick
bushy tail and scampered across the road in the span of my headlights before
disappearing into the darkness just a few blocks from my house. I thought
seeing it was pretty cool and hoped it might be a good omen for the next day.
Back home I stepped out of the car
to the hooting call of a Great Horned Owl, a sound that for some reason always
makes me feel secure and comforted. Then I remembered Jake. Damn. I awoke the
kids, hurried them across the backyard and into the house, stepping lively even
though I could hardly move my feet I was so tired. In ten minutes the kids were
fast asleep, tucked into their beds, so worn out they didn't even move once
they hit the sheets. Then I sat up on the couch until at least three in the
morning, lightly tapping the baseball bat in my hand. I had a lot to think
about: Sally, Jake and Freddie. It was a short night in one respect, but a long
one in another, and when I finally fell asleep, I hadn't accomplished anything.
Nothing that is except I kind of did a number on my hand, constantly slapping
at it with my bat. It was pretty bruised when I saw it that next morning. In a
way, I probably deserved it.
A loud sound woke me from where I'd
fallen asleep on the couch. My head was mashed between the cushion and the arm
but I heard it just fine since apparently I'd left my phone right next to my
ear and 'Water Under the Bridge' by Adele was coming through loud and clear. It
was Sara calling. "Sally's been found," she yelled, "She's
safe."
I let out a muted whoop of joy,"
Yea!," as I sat up and pumped my
fist in the air. I didn't want to wake Kenny and Laura but being as exhausted
from last night as they were they probably wouldn't have awoken to a full blown
cheer from a stadium packed with rabid soccer fans.
It turned out that yesterday
afternoon the little girl had wandered a few houses down from her grandparents,
found a storage shed unlocked and crept inside where she eventually fell asleep
under a tarp. Can you believe it, under a tarp. That's why no one had seen her
when they'd looked inside during yesterdays frantic search. When she awoke it
was nighttime and she was afraid so she stayed put and eventually fell asleep
again. The owner of the shed found her the next morning when he went out to get
his lawn mower, ready to spend the day cutting his three acre lawn. To say both
he and Sally were surprised would be putting it mildly.
Sara and I were ecstatic that the
story had happy ending and so was our town and all the people who had been out
searching last night."We've been invited to the community center at noon
for a celebration," Sara said, "Do you want to go?"
I checked the clock. It was six
thirty. "Yeah, I do," I told her. "There's something I need to
do first, though."
"What?"
"I'll tell you when I see
you."
"Does it have to do with
Freddie?" Sara asked, coyly. I could see her sly smile over the phone. It
helped firm my resolve for what I was going to do.
"Yeah, it does," I told my
friend, "I'll tell you when I see you."
I hung up and went into the each of
the kid's rooms. They were sleeping soundly and I didn't want to wake them. I
left note on the kitchen table just to be on the safe side. What I had to do
wasn't going to take long. I hoped. Then I went out and got in the Honda and
drove through low lying morning fog to Freddie's. I was so preoccupied I didn't
even think to look for Jake on the way out to my car.
The sun was up just above the trees
and the day was already muggy and warm. It was probably going to be hot later,
another typical August summer day, but I wasn't thinking about the weather at
all. I pulled up to the garage slash shack of Freddie's, turned off my car and
got out. The yard (if you could call it that) was even more of a mess than I'd
ever seen it, with fenders and other pieces of cars scattered around along with
a bunch of unidentifiable parts of other motorized vehicles. There was some
construction equipment parked haphazardly nearby, too, probably Cameron's
stuff: a couple of bobcats, a front end loader and three dump trucks. Even an
old moving van was sitting off to the side, rusting down on it rims. It looked
more like a junk yard than a place where someone lived. Ronnie drove a red,
beat up Saturn and it was parked at an odd angle right next to the front of the
garage. What passed for grass was growing knee high and mostly dead, with chest
high weeds being the big winners here. Fat blue bottle flies were swarming
everywhere and what looked like maggots were crawling on every surface I looked
at, so I quit looking.
God help me...I took a moment and gazed
around wondering what I'd ever seen in this guy. There really was something
drastically wrong with someone who didn't mind living this way not to mention
someone who hung around with said person, like me, on occasion.
But no more.
I walked on a narrow, slimy path to
the entrance on the side of the garage where I paused, taking a deep breath
before letting it out, psyching myself up. Then I pounded on the door. Pounded
hard and then shook my head in disgust when some pieces of paint fell off. What
a crap place to live. After a minute of pounding I heard Ronnie tell Freddie to,
"For god's sake get yourself up and go see what the hell's going on."
I heard movement, shuffling,
coughing and then my ex opened the door. I hadn't seen him face to face in a
month and in that time he seemed to have gone even further downhill. He was wearing
a torn tee-shirt and tattered boxers and looked beyond disheveled, his long
hair hanging dirty and oily to his shoulders, some of it in his face. The
disgusting stink of who knew how many days of not bathing followed him to the
door in a pungent cloud. There was a week's worth of beard stubble on his face
and his eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot. He still had his thin build of high
school, but over the years had grown a belly shaped like a watermelon that
seemed to get bigger every time I saw him and now looked like he'd swallowed a huge
pumpkin. His eyes lit up, though, when he saw it was me, and he smiled, his
teeth more brown than white.
"Hey there, Bethie
button," he said. His breath smelled rank, even from the four feet that
separated us. He took a step forward with the intention of giving me a friendly
hug and asked, "How's my girl doing?"
I took a step back and held up my
hand to stop him. "Cool it, buddy," I said. "I'm here for one
reason and one reason only."
He looked confused and blinked his
eyes for a moment. Then it seemed like a light bulb went off in his head, "Oh,
yeah, I get that," he grinned, and looked over his shoulder back to where
I assumed Ronnie was, probably listening to every word said between us. He was
clueless to the angry tone of my voice and, instead, lowered his voice to a conspiratorial
whisper and said, "I've got company now, sweetheart. Why don't you come
back in a couple of hours after she goes to work. Then we can..." he chuckled
and, I kid you not, ran his tongue over his chapped lips, before saying, "...you
know, have some fun together."
In my mind I saw what he thought I
was there for - me and him getting it on in his disgusting bed in his filthy excuse
of a home. The image of the two of us together just about made me puke. I think
I actually gagged before catching myself and reminding myself why I was really
there.
"Not on your life, pal," I
told him, "Not now, and not tomorrow, and not the day after. In fact, not
ever." I moved a step toward him and he stepped back, reacting to the menace
in my voice. "And don't you ever think about it again," I added, "I'm
done with you and I'm done with us. It's over." I heard the final
certainty in my voice and liked it. I liked it a lot.
Then I put both my hands on his good
for nothing boney chest and pushed him hard. He stumbled back a few steps,
looking perplexed before regaining his balance. When he did he just stood there
looking like he'd lost his best friend. Maybe he had, but too bad. It was time to move on. For both
of us.
The only thing he could think to say
was, "Hey..."
From the darkness inside Ronnie
yelled, "Freddie, shut the damn door and come back to bed and leave that
bitch alone."
I was wound up and almost stormed
into the garage to give her a piece of my mind. Almost, but I held back. I had
nothing to say to Ronnie. Let her think I was a bitch. Maybe I was, but I was
as done with her as I was done with Freddie. She'd be gone soon anyway to make
room for someone else and it wasn't going to be me. My ex was a creep and a
jerk who thought it was Ok to keep a python in the same place while his two
kids stayed with him. That's not what a responsible parent was supposed to do
and that was just the tip of an iceberg of my ex's faults that all put together
were enough to have sunk the Titanic. I was done with the whole situation
regarding Freddie. For now and forever. It only took that python, Jake, to help
point the error of my ways and to see my ex for the loser he really was.
I slammed the door and left the two
of them to their pathetic lives. I walked to my car, started it and drove off.
But I did take one last look in the rearview mirror. Freddie had opened the
door and was standing outside, watching me drive off. He must have regained his
composure because he had the audacity to wave to me and give me a big smile
like nothing whatsoever had happened and that things between us were still
fine. Wrong! I rolled down the window and stuck my hand out and gave him the
finger. His smile disappeared in an instant. Then I hit the gas. It was the
best I'd felt in a long time.
Later, when I told all of this to
Sara the first thing she did was give me a high five. Then she hugged me. Then
she asked, "So you're rid of him. Are you sure that's what you want to do?"
Not skeptical, really, more curious than anything else.
We were sitting at a picnic table down
at Lakeside City Park, located on the west end of Long Lake. There was a big
celebration going with grills scattered around and guys cooking up brats and wieners
and corn on the cob, all of the food smoking away, and the aroma of it all making
my mouth water like there was no tomorrow. There were coolers full of soft
drinks and bottled water, and kids playing on the playground equipment, and
others fooling around on the beach or swimming in the refreshing water of the
lake, and dogs running around in the newly constructed dog park...In short, there
was a lot of activity going on, like semi-organized chaos. It felt wonderful to
be part of it. The celebration had been moved from the community center to the
park when it became obvious that so many people wanted to attend and celebrate
the happy ending to the story of the missing Sally Carthwright.
It was now mid afternoon and things
were in full swing. Someone had even organized an impromptu concert of sorts
with a couple of guitars, a fiddle and a mandolin set up near where we were
sitting under a huge cottonwood tree. I was eyeballing the fiddle player, a tall,
thin, guy
wearing a wicked grin and a straw cowboy hat, who was new in town and who I recognized from
walking by my house occasionally, when Sara shook my shoulder to get my
attention.
"Hey, I asked what made you
change your mind about Freddie?"
"You mean the fact that he's an
idiot and a loser and a pothead, that's not enough?" I said, dragging my
eyes away from that tall drink of cool water who just happened to be a kick-ass
fiddle player.
Sara nodded smiling, because not
being a fan of my ex, she'd only told me this a million times before."How
about the kids? You still going to let them see him?"
"I don't like it, but yeah,
they can. He's their father after all. But I'm definitely going to keep a closer
check on things, that's for sure."
"You mean like regarding pythons
and things like that?"
I smiled and took a sip of my
bottled water, "Yeah, something like that."
Sara was more than just a good
friend. She had taught me a lot in the three years I'd known her - not all of
it science stuff. She was the one person I could talk to about what was on my
mind concerning the kids, my job and life in general. I hoped in some small way
I was good for her, too. I wanted to be.
That afternoon I found myself
reflecting on that notion of those basic drives that Sara told me we were all
subject to: like food and sex. I had no excuse for the way I had acted in the
past with Freddie. I really had been attracted to him, and even after the
divorce we'd occasionally had a pretty good time. But it was over now and time
to move on. He wasn't good for me. I'm not sure he was good for Kenny and
Laura, either, but he was their dad so I would just have to make the best of it
by setting good rules and guidelines, and being clear with him about what my
expectations were of him and go from there. It seemed like a good plan to me.
Maybe I was maturing a little.
I looked out over the Lake. The
water was glistening under a cloudless blue sky in the bright sunshine and
ninety degree heat. There were colorful sailboats and slow moving fishing boats
and even a few speed boats trailing wake boarders around. Gulls flew overhead
squawking and calling. Kids laughter filled the air and the old time sound of
that fiddle player carried over it all, reminding me how much I loved living in
our little town.
Then I had a thought and my heart jumped
and started racing and my breath went out in a gasp. Uncontrollably, my hands
started shaking. In all the excitement I'd forgotten...What about Jake? I
involuntarily looked under the picnic table as I lifted my feet off the ground.
What about that damn python? I looked at Sara and she looked back at me as if
reading my thoughts.
"You're thinking about that
snake, aren't you? She asked.
I silently nodded my head, Yes,
trying to get a grip on myself. Snakes I was fine with, but a big python? Well
that was another matter all together. It was drop dead dangerous creature, pure
and simple.
"Well, what do you think?"
she asked me, "What do you want to do?"
I had dealt with my ex, Freddie, now
maybe it was time to deal Jake.
I sucked in my breath and along with
it my courage, building myself up before telling her, "I think we should
go on another little search," I told her, "I think it's time we
seriously try to find that python."
Now a smart person probably would
have bagged the whole thing and reported the missing snake to the police, but I
didn't want to do that. I guess I had something to prove to myself - prove that
I could face my fear of the python and maybe get beyond it.
"Whatever you want to do,"
she said, "I'm on board." What an amazing friend she was, to put it
mildly.
I stood up and scanned the crowd,
looking for Kenny and Laura. I wasn't going to bring them with, of course, I
just wanted to tell them to stay with Caleb and Emma until Sara and I got back.
My plan was tentative and unformed, but I was committed. I wasn't sure if I was
ready to go face to face with a big python, but now was as good a time as any
to fine out.
I only shuddered once or twice, like
the temperature outside had just dropped a hundred degrees or so.
My resolve was steeled, though, and I
was still looking through the crowd for my kids when I got a beep on my phone.
I glanced at it. Freddie was calling. What the hell? I almost didn't answer,
but I was curious...what could possibly be on his mind?
"What?" I asked, hoping my
menacing tone from earlier was still there. I think it was.
"Just cool down," he said,
his words tumbling out in a rush, "And don't hang up. I just wanted to
tell you something I thought you'd be interested to know. You don't have to
worry anymore. I found Jake."
"Say again?"
"I said, I found Jake."
That's what I thought he said.
Talk about wonder of wonders. Apparently
the python been curled up in the cab of the bobcat I'd seen earlier parked near
the garage. Freddie told me he'd forgotten to look there when he'd begun searching
for it a few days ago. My first thought: what a bozo. Who could possibly be
dumb enough not to check a logical hiding place so close to the garage? Well,
duh. Asked and answered. My second thought: shit, I'd walked right by that
bobcat earlier that morning. Jake could easily have grabbed me. My third and
final thought: god, was I glad to be done with both Jake and my ex.
"Ok, fine, thanks for the
info," I told him. I couldn't hang up fast enough. Just talking to him was
giving me the creeps. Maybe I really had started to move on.
I turned to Sara, "You'll never
guess what happened. Then I filled her in on what Freddie had told me.
Her response: "What a bozo,"
and I smiled at her echoing my statement, thinking, 'That's my girl.'
"Let's go," I told her.
We walked through the crowd over to
the playground where I had seen Kenny and Laura swinging. "Come on, you
two," I said called to them, "let's us go and get us some ice cream
and keep this celebration going." I turned to Sara, "You want to come
with?"
"Wouldn't miss it. Let me go
get my kids."
"I'll meet you at my car."
Kenny and Laura ran ahead as I
walked slowly across the sandy beach toward the parking lot. I felt good. Felt
liberated. Felt free of Freddie and felt like I really would have had the
courage to face down that python if we'd have found him.
Sara came up from behind as her kids
ran on to her car. She put her arm around me, "You know, you did a good
thing, dumping Freddie. He wasn't good for you."
I smiled at my friend and hugged her
back. "I know that now and thanks, but actually I was thinking about Jake.
I wonder if I would have been able to be able to capture him?"
"Of course not. That thing
probably weighed at least a couple of hundred pounds. We'd have to have called
animal control or something."
Of course, that's what we would have
done. I appreciated Sara's rational thinking. I shivered to myself in spite of
the hot day, thinking again about Jake. As we walked to my car I told myself
that I still would have liked to try...would have liked to come face to face
with the big python and try to deal with him. I'm pretty sure I would have
found the courage to do it.
To this day, that's what I keep telling
myself, anyway. I'm pretty sure I still believe it.
Oh, by the way, later on at the ice
cream place I tried a new flavor I'd never had before, just to celebrate being
rid of Freddie and facing my fear of Jake the python. It was Tutti-frutti, and
I have to say, it tasted pretty darn good. Life has been getting better ever
since.
