'Til Death Do Us Part

Friendship, like marriage, is a funny thing. You never know what might happen. My friendship with Charlotte was strong, as friendships formed through the rigors of caring for infants are. Our sons were the same age, give or take a few weeks, and Charlotte and I came to know just about everything there was to know about each other as at first we sat nursing our babies, then while sitting in a pile of toys designed to stimulate and educate, then while running after toddlers who seemed hell-bent on doing themselves, or each other, in. And now, with the boys aged three, at last we could sit, have a coffee and chat at the kitchen table while the boys played and fought and played again in the basement.

We knew everything there was to know about each other, except we didn’t talk about our husbands. For my part, I didn’t have much to say. I don’t like “ragging on husband” sessions and the good parts of our marriage are no one’s business. I assumed Charlotte felt the same way, as we were so simpatico, but I never asked. I knew John, of course, and he seemed unfailingly nice. Over the years politeness became just friendly. “Good morning, Karen”, with Ben all ready to go at the door when I came to get him for a play date with Josh, became “Heya, Karen, Ben’s in the kitchen,” as he waved me on in. My husband Ned liked John well enough, too, well enough to enjoy the potluck dinners we’d share, although his friendliness was more for Josh and my sakes than out of true feelings.

It was a hot summer’s day when Charlotte called and every mother’s worst nightmare began.

“I can’t find Ben anywhere, Karen, I don’t suppose he’s with you?” Her voice was desperate.

“Oh, Charlotte. No, he’s not,” I whispered since my heart had suddenly constricted and I could barely breathe. “Could John have taken him out?”

“No, he’s here with me. I have to go; I have to call the police.”

I stared at the phone, unable to move, until Josh tugged at my shirt.

“Are we going to Ben’s?” he asked.

I shook my head slowly, still frozen with shock. Josh continued to tug at my shirt until I grabbed him into a big hug and held him for a long time. He must have sensed the seriousness of the situation because he didn’t even squirm. His little arms around my neck galvanized me; I had to be with Charlotte. Josh didn’t need such a rude introduction to life’s realities, so I called my mom who, luckily, was free to look after him.

After dropping Josh off I raced to Charlotte’s. John answered the door.

“Heya, Karen,” he waved me on in like always.

“Have you found him?”

He frowned. “No, the police are here.”

He led me into the kitchen where Charlotte sat clutching Ben’s favorite teddy bear. I went straight to her and gathered her into a hug. The tears she’d been holding back poured forth and she sobbed on my shoulder.

I could see police systematically searching the backyard following a search dog. I could hear footsteps upstairs and assumed there were more police.

“What happened, Charlotte?”

She sniffed and drew herself together. “You know, I woke up thinking there was something wrong. And then I looked in Ben’s room and he wasn’t there. I called and looked all around and he wasn’t there. Then John came in the door and he said he hadn’t seen him either. I knew he was gone. He always wakes me up.”

“If they don’t find missing kids in the first twenty-four hours they say they never do, that they’re probably dead.” John stared at his wife as he said this. We stared back at him in shock, then Charlotte began to weep again.

“They’ll find him,” I assured them both.

But, you know, they never did. Every day I visited Charlotte, sat with her and held her hand as she wept. John had to work, and I knew Charlotte needed someone with her. After two weeks with Ben still missing, Charlotte no longer wept. She would greet me at the door with hollow eyes and an ashen face. A month later, she no longer bothered answering the door and I would let myself in to find her, unwashed and unkempt, staring blankly and clutching Ben’s favorite teddy bear. I would make her shower, cook for her and force her to eat. I no longer said anything about the police finding him.

I couldn’t desert my friend in her greatest hour of need, but at times I so wanted to. There were days when I had to take Josh with me to check on Charlotte and it broke my heart to explain why he couldn’t play with Ben, that we didn’t know where he was, and that that was what was wrong with Ben’s Mom.

One day I had Josh with me and he picked up Ben’s teddy bear, which was never far from Charlotte. “Beary,” he shouted happily. He looked at me with big, solemn eyes. “Ben not happy to not have Beary.”

“Yes,” I whispered, my throat choked with tears I couldn’t let him see. I sent him to take the bear to Ben’s room. He scampered away and I turned to Charlotte. We held each other and wept as though we had just learned of Ben missing all over again. There was little else I could do and I left as soon as Josh came back down.

“We should take Beary to Ben,” Josh said on the way home in the car.

I summoned my patience. “We don’t know where he is, Joshy, remember?”

“Probably,” he remarked. “A beary one and a three.” I was happy he had changed the subject.

After two months, my husband was suggesting I needed to move on with my life. That Charlotte’s grief was consuming me, too, and affecting Josh overly. I knew he was right but still could not justify deserting her. But I had to think of Josh. I signed him up for nursery school and it wasn’t long before he made new friends and we had play dates. I met their mothers and, though it felt like a betrayal of Charlotte, I was laughing and having fun, too. Even John, Charlotte’s husband, took me aside one day as we passed each other on the sidewalk.

“Karen, I know that without you Charlotte wouldn’t have survived all this. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for us, for her.” He took my hand and gripped it. I was startled and tried to pull it back. He held tight. “I want you to know that I know this situation is hard on you, and Josh, too. Who knows how long this will go on for? Charlotte will never get better. You have to look after yourself and your family.” He released his grip and gave a big sigh. “No one will hold it against you, trust me.”

“Karen, is that you?” Charlotte appeared in the doorway.

John raised his voice. “What we need is Ben’s body so we can bury him and have closure. See, you, Karen, bye, sweetheart.” He waved and left for work.

Charlotte was gripping the door frame so hard I had to massage her hands free, all the while speaking soothingly. Eventually I managed to get her to lie down and drink a cup of tea. She fell asleep. I hated to leave her like that. She was so thin and pale with huge dark circles under her eyes. But I had to fetch Josh from school.

“You’d think he was trying to upset her,” I said to my husband later that night.

“Maybe he’s just trying to get Charlotte to snap out of it,” was my husband’s thought.

“I suppose it’s doubly difficult for him with Charlotte so lost, too.” I went back to checking on Charlotte daily.

“I know he’s alive,” she would insist, clutching Ben’s teddy, “I know it.”

One day I was taking Josh to visit a friend from his school who lived in a new sub-division on the edge of town. We were singing along to the Wiggles when suddenly Josh pointed and shouted, “One and a three Berry!”

Indeed, there was a street sign labeled Berry Street. I was so impressed. “Did you actually read that, Joshy?” I exclaimed. “Wow, good for you.”

Josh beamed. “Thirteen berry’s for Ben.”

“Oh.” I tried to hide my disappointment. Josh had meant bearies, not berries. Oh well, so he wasn’t reading at three. I laughed at myself; typical Mom stuff, convinced my kid was a genius.

Later that day, though, I was given reason to wonder if Josh was trying to tell me something. It was a matter of asking him the right questions. After dropping Josh off, I stopped as usual to check on Charlotte. I found her lying in bed still in her nightclothes. She was pale and I was shocked by how skeletal she was. Lying on the bed staring unmoving at the ceiling, she looked more dead than alive. I assumed she had heard the worst; that Ben’s body had been found.

“Charlotte. I’m so sorry.” I sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in mine.

She turned her head and gave me a small smile and squeezed my hand in return. She knew right away what I was thinking. “Oh no, Karen, I know Ben’s alive. No. John told me he’s leaving me this morning. I can’t blame him really. I’m a mess, aren’t I?” A lone tear trickled down her cheek. Her face was swollen and puffy and I knew she’d cried herself out.

I started to say, “Of course you aren’t,” but there wasn’t much point. I held her hand and sat with her, letting her know I was there. The news left me feeling winded, as though I’d been kicked in the gut. I found it hard to believe John would leave Charlotte in these circumstances. How could anyone be so cold, even indifferent to his wife’s pain? Charlotte was clutching Ben’s teddy and I stared at it. No, John was not indifferent at all. I had heard him be deliberately cruel, deliberately remind her of Ben’s loss and probable death. How could he be so cold? I felt a stirring of anger and, staring into Ben’s teddy’s gleaming black eyes, I had a terrible suspicion.

“I’ll be back,” I whispered to Charlotte. “I’m going to get Josh.” Another horrible suspicion stopped me in the doorway. “Don’t do anything, Charlotte. I’ll be right back and I’ll have Josh with me. Promise?”

She didn’t even have the energy to pretend she didn’t know what I was talking about. “Okay, Karen, okay.” She turned her head away from me.

I drove fast. Once I had Josh in the car, I returned to Berry Street. Number thirteen was large, with bow windows top and bottom on the right, and a two-car garage on the left. Brand new as it was, it must have cost a pretty penny. My mind was calculating. Was a funeral cheaper than a divorce? I pulled into the empty driveway. The living room curtain twitched.

“Have you been here before?” I asked Josh.

“Thirteen berry for Ben,” he beamed and nodded. "Ben's Daddy brought me here, one time."

I was angry. Not only for Charlotte but for myself and my son, too, who missed his best friend.

“I’ll be right back, Josh.” I could see him in the car from the front door. I rang the bell. I had to ring five times, but I was persistent. That small shadow behind the curtain had been Josh’s size.

A woman opened the door, just enough to stick her head out. She looked expensive, too. “Can I help you?” she demanded in exasperation. She glanced over at my car and frowned when she saw Josh peering out the window. Josh waved at her. She tried to slam the door shut but I was prepared and kicked the door wide.

“Josh is in the car, Ben. Run to the car, Ben!” I shouted, pushing against the door to hold it open. A little figure suddenly ran out and I heard him shouting, “Hi, Joshy!”

The woman suddenly let go of the door and I fell forward, landing on my knees. She tried to run past me. I grabbed her around the legs and tackled her to the floor. Months of grief and worry for my friend fed my adrenaline. I caught her by the back of her blouse and threw her bodily into the house, then I pulled the door shut with a slam. I scooped up Ben and tossed him into the backseat.

I kept checking the rear-view mirror. No one followed me. I didn’t start breathing normally again until we were well away.

“Hi, Ben. How would you like to go home?”

“Mommy’s dead,” he burst into tears.

I was so angry. Not only had John tried to make Charlotte commit suicide by convincing her Ben was dead, he’d told Ben his mother was dead, too. Presumably so Ben would accept the “new” mother.

Once back at Charlotte’s I ran into the house with the boys. All was quiet. “Charlotte,” I called. I prayed I wasn’t too late. I started up the stairs when I heard a noise from the kitchen. I held the boys’ hands. “Charlotte?” I called. I stuck my head cautiously around the kitchen door. She was standing by the stove.

“Mommy!” Ben shrieked. He let go my hand and ran to her. Charlotte spun around and sank to her knees as Ben threw himself into her arms. They held each other for a long time. I saw Charlotte had been making a pot of tea so I poured a couple of mugs.

She looked at me over Ben’s head. “What…?”

“I need to call the police,” I said. “Keep the boys in here with you, okay?”

The police moved quickly and caught John and his girlfriend at the airport. Charlotte and I are good friends still, ‘til death do us part.