Lost and Found (Chapter Eight)

Sometimes I wonder how much of my life I spent sleeping and how much of it is just lying in bed, awaiting the inevitable morning. There are times when I feel as if I am in a trance, an arm twitches alerting the rest of my body, the arm has long since gone numb but my body senses it's movement. I roll over in bed, obviously hours have past since I had laid down, but I remember the long wait. Was it hours long? Was I simply unaware as time passed around me? Or did I finally find sleep? All I know at that point in the night is that I am now awake and my arm is painfully numb. Driving a long road can be like that sometimes.

Nervously, I tuned the radio to rid myself of the insufferable static. I had just lost the local college station with its annoyingly low bandwidth and energetic thrash punk. It was a long drive from where I was to Colorado and even further to the middle of the state and where my mother, Melonie, was housed.

I had been on the road just over an hour doing seventy-two in the second lane from the left. As the highway I was on had five lanes in each direction I figured I was in one of the faster lanes. Still, I had been passed by two red sports cars driving in the slower lanes to my right in a lesser number of minutes. When the black V-8 sedan began to creep by me, I gunned the engine of my Gallant. The engine purred as it pulled into the speed I requested. The acceleration was slower than I had wanted but the sedan was no longer passing me by. Slowly, I caught up with it and began to pass.

Speeding past it, a glint of light hit my eye and I swerved into his lane hard, slamming the gas to keep my bumper out of its grill. With uncanny precision, and while only tapping brakes, the car pulled into the next lane, all too close in front of a car in the far right, the driver of which slammed on slammed on his brakes as he skidded onto the shoulder.

Later, the car caught up with me, still a lane over, and I pulled into its lane and kept just ahead of it, two car lengthsperhaps, asserting my dominance over the driver. F*****g pass me now, will you? sedan accepted my lead and didn't try to pass me for the next hundred and fifty miles.

While in front I caught a glimpse of what had blinded me earlier, one of those CD holders you clip onto your visor. It's contents were mostly silver burned CD and one reading ABBA. When I saw the man behind the wheel it all made sense. Nearly middle aged, in a dress shirt with a bad tie and a bad haircut.

For a time the experience of leading the car gave me a thrilling high. It was like playing with the wolf I had had as a pet when I was four; back when I still lived with my parents. The contest of wills taking place had a similar dangerous feel to playing around with a wolf. I was too young then to realize that it wasn't a dog but always I sensed the fierce untamed instinct under his fur. In a way I was always on edge around Reki, my pet. I was never without the worry that for a moment I might lose my control over the animal and that it might turn on me. Retrospectively, it reminded me of the relationship between my father and myself at that age. Maybe that was why I felt so comfortable.

As a young boy my parents fought frequently. Not constantly but consistently. It was almost as if one fight led into the next and my third year of life seemed to be one big fight. This turmoil lead me to continuously run away from home when things got too heavy. From three, I left to an abandoned, yet well kept house on our property. I really had no other escape with the rest of my family living so far away. My mother was the black sheep of her family and my father had a longing to branch out on his own.

This house that I escaped to was well known and after finding me there a few times my mother came to look for me there more often; perhaps even as the first place she looked. So, when I was four, I found a new place to run away to, the outlying woods on our plot of land, which ran deep in true mountainous Colorado style and crossed over into vague property lines. The place I chose was to the best of my memory about half a mile into the woods. I took off at night when their post-bedtime fighting was at its worst and they were so busy screaming at each other that at first they didn't notice. The next day was a Monday and they must have noticed then noticed then, but they didn't find me at my usual haunt and gave up.

I got hungry by the middle of the day so I wandered off deeper into the woods looking for berries or something and eventually I found a cabin that reminded me of the place I used to stay in times like these. This would be the first time I had the courage to fend for myself instead of running back home to worried parents. Carefully, I looked in every window to see if anyone was home and after a thorough examination it seemed nobody was. On my second pass I began to search for a way in and around the fourth window I found one that was open, but unfortunately I was too small and weak to climb in. Remembering the porch on the front of the cabin I made my way around the house and returned to my window dragging a wooden deck chair that was at least as large as I was. Using it as a stepping stool I opened the window a crack and shimmied my way in.

Immediately, I noticed the refrigerator and ran excitedly over to it, gorging myself on the food contained within. Stomach full to the extent that I stuck it out in a jovial childish way I loaded my arms with whatever food and drink my little arms could carry and left through the front door.

I returned to the clearing I was using as a makeshift campsite, left the food there, and went off exploring, coming back whenever I was hungry.

I still had food when I went to sleep that night.

I woke in the middle of the night by a strange noise coming from my food. I hadn't slept too close to it because some of the open containers were drawing bugs. I looked over and saw a pair of ominous glowing eyes. These orbs of crystalline light found their way into the face of a wolf as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I looked deep into his eyes; he didn't look scary like you would imagine a wolf to be. He looked peaceful, calm, relaxed... for that i envied him, I wanted his peace, his contentment with his own life. He reminded me of the one picture of my brother that I still have, taken days after he was born.

The wolf drew his eyes up to mine, studying my face and finally locking me into a stare. I sensed a power rise inside of him, challenging my own. I don't remember how long the staring match lasted, spent a long time lost in his eyes. Strangely, I felt comfort, safety.

After a while, he looked away, a sign of his submission to the force of my own will. Staring at the ground, he walked toward me, sniffed my cheek, licked my face.

I went home the next morning, I had found what I had come out here for, peace and companionship. More so, he was an ally in the times when I felt I had none. By the time I came home my parents had quit fighting and were unified in worry and concern. Still, even then you could still see the forces that pulled at them blaming each other for the loss and plotting the next battle. It wasn't too hard to convince them to let me keep my pet, whom I had by now named Reki, a cool sounding name I had come up with off the top of my head.

That was one of the things I recalled on the long drive. I remembered my whole life (or, at least, what i could remember of it) up to about age fourteen. You know what people say about your life flashing before your eyes before you die. Well, I guess I almost died of boredom.

About ten miles into Colorado I noticed a tinge of pain in my bladder. After another ten miles the tinge had become a dull ache and I took the nearest exit hoping to find a gas station to relieve myself. Moving off the freeway at the last possible second, I gave a sarcastic wave to the driver of the black sedan.

The area around the exit had the kind of dull monotony that one would expect to see in a ghost town. Three miles off I found an abandoned looking gas station that seemed to have its lights on. I parked my green and white Gallant and went in for a closer look. Sure enough there was an older man sitting, half asleep, behind the register. Behind me a red Mazda pulled in to the station, wheels slightly squealing as it made the turn in. The car parked crooked and out of it came a young boy, probably mid-teens, who looked a little to young to be driving by himself. He hurried past me unapologetically and once inside the store he began to peruse the candy isle with a hungry half stoned look on his face. Upon his entrance the old man jerked straight up as if from a nightmare and began to watch him suspiciously.

“Bathroom?” I said with an inquisitive look to the back of the store.

“..Paying customers, kid. Got any money?” He answered with a hard grimace on him. It wasn't surprising the place didn't get many customers with his attitude.

“Put twenty-five on four.” I answered, pulling a crumpled mass of bills from my pocket hoping to appease the old coot. The man hastily took the money from my hand, a slight smile lifting his cavernous wrinkles as he unfolded the bills, which he then stuffed into the register before tapping a few keys. From under the register tray he produced a heavily vandalized stick with a chain and key attached. The boy shifted his feet behind me, adding to my impression of an impatient nature.

“ 'Round the corner, can't miss it.” He said, eyeing the boy while at the same time handing me the stick. From the station I headed “ 'round the corner”, passing my car in the process. Gas was second to my desire to visit the bathroom.

The damp room was the filthiest place I had ever paid to get into. Which said a lot considering my dive bar days. “Lucky I didn't have to take a s**t.” i muttered, trying in vain to hold my breath. Still, despite it's shortcomings, it served the purpose I had intended.

I filled my car and left the gas station under the cover of nightfall losing the road I came in on and eventually finding my way to a hole in the wall motel. It was past visiting hours anyway, I might as well get some sleep. I took it all as a happy coincidence, and after bargaining with the Indian owner, I found a cheap place to sleep.

I woke with a slight pain in my neck, probably the fault of the s****y pillow that came with the room. I filled a thermos with coffee from the main office and started out to the prison.

I was there before I knew it, almost like I woke up there, looking for a parking space. Even though it had been years since I had been there last, I still remembered the way, in fact, everything from the last time I had come to visit my Mom. I could tell that there was a new receptionist. Good, I needed no one to recognize me for my plan to work. I took the sheet the new receptionist handed me with the attached clipboard and all and went to work.

Now, this was a prison. Security here was alot tighter than everywhere else, as it should be, after all this is where they kept prisoners. Even the receptionist's were police. Needless to say a fake I.D. wasn't gonna be good enough here. It had a authentic, yet fake, license number and was otherwise perfect. It would fool anyone who didn't look any further than the license, which covered almost everyone, including traffic cops, assuming you weren't being pulled over for anything too serious. Getting into a prison, however, required a social security number and since Dean Oaken didn't exist past a drivers license number, there was no way to get in as him. Besides that, even if that alias did make it past security, it might get flagged because he had never been here before and was of no relation to Mom. I would need yet another identity.

So when the sheet asked me for a name, I simply wrote "Dean Alexander Pierce". My brother. It was easy. Even though he was five years older than me we looked similar enough to be twins. I even knew his SSN from the times I posed as him to get into bars in Vegas. Not that I had to remember it, I had swiped the card from his wallet the last time I had seen him. Purely out of necessity, of course. Anyway, he had a photo I.D. and a copy of his birth certificate; he wouldn't have a hard time getting a new one.

When I finished the fairly long form I returned it to the receptionist. "It'll be just one moment longer." She said in a polite droll as she took the clipboard and began typing the information into the computer in front of her. I tried my best to stand aloof as I watched her type 'my' information. I've done this a dozen times beforeI kept telling myself. That kept me from shaking on the outside, but nothing could've prevented me from quivering on the inside. I bit the inside of my lip; all I could do was wait.

"I need to see a photo I.D. Mr. Pierce." The woman couldn't have been anymore terse.

"Traffic cop took it. I, uh, took a cab here. I have a social security card if that'll work."

"Eh, you do look like the photo on file. Have you moved recently?" She gave me a half angry, half bored look.

"Last month. That's my new address if you need it on record."

"Eh, let me see the card, sir." Maybe less angry and more bored. I handed her the card. "Mother's maiden name?"

"Eden." I answered quickly, letting the answer roll off my tongue. I was going for impatient and confident.

"Uh-huh." I could feel the beads of sweat forming on the palms of my hands. "What?" Her voice finally showed some expression and I could smell the s**t hitting the fan. "It says here-" never good to hear "you have mail? Apparently... It says here you left some mail last time you were here; your Mother found it after you left. If you'll give me a minute I'll go back to get from the lock-up for you."

"Yeah, great." I said as briefly as possible, hoping the relief wouldn't show in my voice.

Of course, as she walked away I began to consider the fact that if she had noticed an irregularity in my paperwork, she might not have said a word. At that very moment guards could be swarming towards the lobby. I edged closer and closer to the door.

I was looking out the door examining the parking lot. Looking for ways to run; ways they would run in. I was wondering just how high of a bush I could jump and if cars really did go through fences like they did in the movies when I heard the dry, questioning tones.

"Mr. Pierce? Oh, there you are. Here's the letter; has your name on it. Says it's from Juli, no last name."

"Juli!" That had been my brothers childhood nickname for me. "I thought I'd lost that. Thank you." Standing no more than a foot away from the window I reached for the letter. As I did, a man in an awful suit and a leather boa squeezed his way between me and the window. He had a weaselly face and as the receptionist quickly withdrew the hand and the letter she shot the man a dirty look.

"Sit down, Mr. Reinhardt; I won't ask you again." The man trudged to his seat.

She handed me the letter when the man returned to his seat muttering something under her breath. "Now you're here to see," she looked down onto the paper on the clipboard, "Melonie Pierce? Your mother, as it says here."

"Yes."

She pressed a button and a buzzer sounded as a door beside me clicked. "Go through the door and follow the yellow line." I did just that and as the door clicked and locked behind me I felt suddenly alone and scared. I found the yellow line on the middle of the wall. Minutes later I found myself in a room with two armed guards and more doors than my Gallant. Between the two guards stood my mother in full body shackles staring at the floor looking melancholy.

Hearing the footsteps she began to look up slowly and sadly, but when her eyes drifted over me her head bolted upright and she smiled weakly.

"My son! I thought I might never see you again." I don't remember anything about her body at that moment, except for her eyes. Her eyes looked as if they could jump out of their sockets to come to me. Her eyes pleaded for a hug, or some sign of love from me. She knew she was a prisoner, she knew she couldn't just run to me. Her eyes did the running for her. "Can I be alone with my son now?"

The guard to the left nodded his head and following his cue the guard to the right let go of my mother and walked to the middle of five doors.

"You have twenty minutes." He said as he opened the door. Meanwhile, the other guard unshackled my mother with the exception of the handcuffs. He removed the handcuffs after we were both in the room and then only through a slit in the door. He closed the slit when he was done.

It seemed like a bit much, but my mother was a convicted murderer. I guess it had never really occurred to me what that meant because I had always known she was justified. In here though, no concessions were made for circumstance. In here she was just a killer.

It took at least a minute to gather the courage to speak. "So, uh, what do I say?" Even with that courage found I was at a loss for words.

"Say anything you want Julius. This room isn't bugged, it's for meetings with lawyers." She paused to look me over again, probably for the fifth time in the last few minutes. "So how have you been? I've already heard all about you going missing, the guards told me about it when it was on the news. They let me watch it in the break room where it's quiet."

"Sounds like they like you." I said with a smile. Mom had always had a way with people. My mother had worked as a waitress all of my life, even when my father, Jared, worked as an electrician she brought home just less than half of the household income.

"You should see some of the other women on my block; compared to them I'm a saint." She stared down at her hands, folded in her lap. "But, I want to know what happened." She looked up at me with a suddenly stern, motherly expression.

Only one thing I could looking at a face like that. I told her everything. Or at least an overview of it all. Funny how a woman could still look like that even after twelve years in prison. Maybe that made her motherly ways even more commanding.

"I can't say I approve, but you might be in luck. They're investigating that Daniel a*****e. You'd be glad to know he was arrested for raping that kid."

"(Rosemary). Her name's (Rosemary)." I felt suddenly defensive.

"Yeah, I heard her name on the news. Police think he killed her and you ran off. Used to think it was a home invasion until they matched DNA off some personal belongings to him. He shot up to suspect number one. Think he might've killed you too, but they still haven't found the stash of stuff that he took to when he 'robbed the place'. They say he did it to cover up the murders."

"I hid that stuff from him. Knew the police would find them before he figured out what was up." I looked up at my mother, seeing her in a new light, a killer, a prisoner, my mother. She would always be my mother, locked up or not. I couldn't believe it had been so long since I had seen her last. "I know you haven't ever been able to hang up an A+ report card or buy a frame for my diploma... I just wanted to make you proud."

At first she smiled. I could see how the time alone in this hell had taken their toll on her. I noticed all of the many lines in her face. The way they branched out across her face like the branches of a tall oak. The way her hair was no longer meticulously cared for but stringy and matted. It was like she had stopped taking care of herself. As if she no longer cared; as if she no longer considered herself a woman anymore. Only a prisoner. I was glad at least one of her sons hadn't forgotten her. But in that smile I could tell she was still alive. At least on some level deep inside, now hidden from the world.

That smile only lasted for a second though. She quickly looked down and laughed darkly; looking up at me bitterly she spoke.

"I've thought about it for awhile now, over and over. I can't say I even regret doing what I did. But it wasn't the easiest way. I could've done so many other things but what I did then I did rashly. I don't want you make you making my mistakes all over again. You're obviously better at this than I am. But I failed miserably. How much will you do? They're searching for your body, yet you sneak into a prison without so much as a fake I.D. You sound like you've grown into a brilliant young man. A father, damn good one too. You got away, just like I never could. Started from scratch in a new city, a new state. With a kid. And the only reason you're in here is to pay a visit." Leaning over the table and gripping my shoulder tightly, she screamed weakly through flowing tears. "Don't you f*****g let then get you. Like it or not they're still looking for you. You don't want this. She wouldn't want it for you either. Like it or not, you're her father now. Don't leave her, you know how that feels."

"You don't think I haven't thought of that?" I could feel my temper beginning to boil.

"I know." Mom shook her head in regret. "Yeah, I think you'll be OK. Hey. I just remembered, Janice came to see me. She was looking for you. She's worried about you. I think she really cares. Don't make the mistake of judging her by her a*****e husband. Go see her. And your brother too. He left you a letter, just ask for the one you left here last time, they should give it to you."

"I got it already." I told her, pulling the folded envelope from my back pocket. "Do you know what it's about?"

Mom took a moment to answer. Her tears came harder this time. "I'm so sorry, Julius, I should've told you. It's about your father..." Her head fell, helpless and limp, on the cold metal table, sobbing relentlessly.

"What is it?" I demanded.

"Time's up, come to the door Mrs. Pierce, you know the drill." Said a voice from beyond the steel door.

Mom walked helplessly to the door, eyes bloodshot, tears still rolling down her face. "I'm so sorry, I should've told you, before it was too late."

"Mom, it's not your fault." I said, rising quickly from the seat.

Mom put her hands through the door, accepting her fate. I walked over to her and hugged her tightly, knowing she couldn't return the gesture.

"Back away from the door, Mr. Pierce." The stern voice commanded and I walked backwards obediently, feeling defeated.

Handcuffs on, the door opened and my mother left the room in shame. I left with haste, unable to look up, as they put the remaining shackles on her.

I signed out and left. The shady man rose as I walked through the doors. Cutting a quick left behind some tall, unkempt bushes I faded out of sight quickly and ran to my car.

I couldn't let the man see my tears.