TheMommyBlog

Monday, October 31, 2005 Our Holiday Curse, Family

Two children. Two children. No matter how many times I count it doesn’t come up three. Everyone halting, moms herding. Dad one way, me the other. Thought he was with you. Thought he was with you. Already livid. But more scared. Taste of bile. So that’s what that is. Sour. Running. Scanning. Suddenly can see better. Filtering out all colors except red, green, yellow, black eye mask. Dylan. Dylan. Why is it always Dylan that gets separated, left behind? Dad says keep hitting houses, he’s with the other kids, he wouldn’t go far. I am sprinting down one block, two, three. Yelling, but softly. Don’t scare the kids. Once, I yell, “Robin!”

“Is Robin your son?” Across the street.

“Yes!”

“My wife is walking with him, trying to help him find his mommy.”

Hurried thanks, sprinting faster. I burst into tears. Two more blocks, can’t see anything. Fucking junipers. “Dylan!”

From far away, “Here!”

I run, he runs. We meet on the sidewalk, me skidding to my knees. Wife comes to me and says she knew we’d find him. When she asked him where he lived, he said, “I have two houses.” She was going to call next. Good luck dialing “Eight-seven-i-ah-poo-whatever.” Suddenly horrified that I thought that was funny and didn’t make him memorize our number on the spot.

“Dylan, I couldn’t find you.” Sobbing, the moms understand.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” But I will never take my eyes off you ever again no matter how many parents are there.

Daphne crying for me when we find the boys. Other mom is holding her, but just barely. “She got scared.” Pause. “I guess you’ll be typing tonight.”

“No. Too hot.” But now it’s too hot to keep in. Little arms tight around my neck.

Cell phone. Back pocket. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t live here. This is your neighborhood. You tell me. Or come to us.” He’s pissed too, hears it in my voice. Holding Dylan, walking until we find him. No eye contact. I am livid. Sweating. My shirt stinks. Smells like fear. It’s not nice.

Daphne clinging to me, boys in haunted house. I cant stand not knowing where they are in there. It’s huge. Daphne’s hiding in my shoulder. “Want to go home, baby?” She nods.

“I’m going to take Daphne home. Boys, do you want to stay?” They do.

“I’ll walk with them and drop them off later.”

“I’m going home to throw up.” No eye contact.

At home, the doorbell rings and Daphne runs to open it in her underwear. Ten neighborhood kids, including four from directly across the street. We have no candy. Weren’t going to be here. The kids don’t understand. I am sorry. Moms gently lead them away. I am sorry.

Phone again. He’ll bring the boys in the morning. No eye contact.