The Wait

Dialing her number, I press the button and put my phone on speaker. While it rings, I pour myself a coffee and pop down two pieces of rye bread in the toaster, waiting for my daughter to answer.

We talk almost every morning since she left home.

I am startled as a voice on the other end answers and say’s. "Hello, may I ask who I am speaking too?" It didn't sound like Lily.

Taken back I reply. "I am calling for Lily."

A female voice speaks. "This is constable Millan. May I ask who this is?"

Realizing my mistake, I quickly answer. "Sorry, I must have dialed your number by accident."

Before I disconnect, the person on the other end calls out. "No, do not hang up. You have the correct number. As I mentioned earlier, I am Constable Millan, and I am talking on Lily's phone."

Now I am getting confused. "You know Lily, why do you have her phone?"

"Sir, yes we have her phone. I was looking through her contacts when you called."

A long pause proceeds as I am trying to work this out. Taking I deep breath I slowly ask. "Where is Lily?"

"Sir, before I can answer any questions I need you to tell me who you are."

Sitting down at the kitchen table, I stare at my coffee cup, steam rolling off and disappearing into nothing. A clock in the other room ticks away the moments. "I am her father, that should have popped up when the phone rang."

Another pause.

"Sir, my name is Marie, I am a police officer. May I ask you your name."

“Is she under arrest? Don’t tell me she was one of those protesters at the University.” Lily was always jumping into causes before thinking it through.

The voice becomes direct. “Sir, before we continue I need you to confirm your name, please.”

The toaster pops and startles me, I stare in that direction and watch as a tendril of smoke spirals upward.

"Mark...Mark Wallen." My heartbeats faster, but I am unable to say anything else.

"Mark, I am going to ask you a few questions if that is okay?"

"Sure." The smell of burnt toast lingers in the air.

"Can you tell me Lily's birthday."

My mind goes blank for a moment. How come I can’t remember? ..."May 15th."

"And the year, Mark?"

It was Spring, the flowers were starting to bloom. The sun shone so bright that morning, after a long stormy night of rain, wind, and labor. With her birth came the light, 8:10 am.

"2001."

"Thank you Mark, I have a few more questions if..."

Cutting Marie off. "Where is Lily, where is my daughter?"

"Mark, I cannot answer that at this time, can you please give us your address?"

Anger surges forth. "The hell I will, where is my daughter?" I demand.

"Sir, your address please?"

There was something in her voice that makes me realize this isn't a conversation she wishes to have with me, there was empathy. I give her our address.

"Thank you Mark, we are sending a car to your home, they should be there soon."

My mind floods with thoughts, I begin blurting them out. "Is she alright, is Lily hurt, arrested, was she in an accident?"

"Mark, I apologize. I am not at liberty to go into details at this moment."

"Bullshit, let me talk to someone who will tell me something." I yell. "Where is my daughter?"

"Mark, the officers will explain everything when they arrive. “

“Officers? Do I need to call a lawyer?”

Our kitchen over looks our back yard, I glance up when I hear the creak of the screen door and I watch as my wife enters. Smiling, she removes her gardening gloves and tosses them on the table by the door. I stare into her eyes, there is a smudge of dirt on her right cheek from the soil.

Looking at me, I hear her voice from far away. "Good morning dear. I could smell the coffee outside and..." She glances at the phone propped up in front of me. "Is that Lily? Tell her I just planted her namesake.” She calls out “Hey lily pad."

I shake my head. She see's my face and knows right away something is wrong. I don't know what to say, then Maries voice breaks the silence. "Mark, is someone there with you?"

I pull a chair out for my wife to sit. "Yes, my wife, Shannon. Lily's mom.”

Marie introduces herself and goes over the last few moment's of our conversation. Shannon bombards Marie with similar questions that I already asked, and others I should have thought to ask. Our house suddenly seems so small, the walls closer than they were this morning. The ceiling not as high as they once were. I have this urge to leave the room and jump in my car. Go and find my daughter, but fear I’ll miss an important part of the conversation that is now happening between Shannon and Marie.

The answer is right there, yet I cannot make sense of anything.

Glancing over to my wife, tears flow freely down her face, streaking the dirt on her cheek, like smeared mascara. No sound, her eyes stare out the window, I follow her gaze. We see the glow of sunshine upon the newly planted flowers. Bees are already drawn to the pollen. They hover over, then nestle within the soft white petals.

Marie won't tell us anything else and deep down I truly no longer want to know. I stand behind my wife, holding her shoulders. Shannon reaches up and places her hand upon mine. I feel the warmth, in some small way it gives me strength.

Maries voice becomes soft. "The officers tell me they have arrived and are in your driveway. I have to hang up now. I am… so sorry."

Emptiness fills the room, like a heavy blanket in the dark.

In the deep silence, a faint knocking echoes in the distance. I wipe the smudge from Shannon’s cheek and help her rise. Hand in hand we lean against each other and walk to the door.

Thank you,

Jason