Amy listened to the sound of dirt falling on the boxes, the wooden boxes that her whole life was buried in. She was aware of Josh holding her, grasping her arms and leaning her against him. She wanted to laugh and tell him that it wasn’t her that needed protecting. Didn’t he know? Didn’t he know she had sold him out? Sold out the people who mattered?
Amy looked from the open grave and watched the weeping faces standing over it. She listened with indifference to the priest conclude his graveside prayer. The reassuring smile she gave the mourners when their hands grasped for hers, never once reached her eyes.
It wasn’t any surprise to Amy that Celeste wasn’t one of them. Since the accident, she had ignored the one presence that made the harsh unremitting reality of her world acute. Her guilt would not allow her to recognize Celeste, other than through perfunctory courtesy. But even here, even now, she sensed her. Somehow, without looking, she knew exactly where she was, and she couldn’t stand it.
Amy smiled at the priest when he held her hand and offered words of comfort. She was Presbyterian, more by birthright than practice, but Josh was Catholic. Not practicing, but he wanted a Catholic burial, and who was she to refuse him? She just wanted it over. He wanted a wake; she wanted to die. He wanted to be there for her; she wanted to be left alone.
To the outside world Amy knew she appeared too still, too detached, but inside she raged—a rage that was nothing like when her father died. This rage was incomprehensible, an inferno burning inside her.
Another mourner grasped her hand and Amy wondered why none of her anger showed. Why the feeling of wanting to slice her life away, rip it into shreds, burn it, and stomp on it didn’t show through. She smiled unseeing as the last mourner dropped her hand and moved away.
Josh wrapped his arms around her. Aware of his increasing concern, Amy put her head on his shoulder. He placed his chin on her head and rubbed her back. Since the accident, she had barely shown any signs of grief.
Amy knew that it wasn’t only her behavior that was frightening Josh, but the distance she was putting between them. Unlike Josh, she had cried little. Not because she hadn’t wanted to, but because she couldn’t. Not yet. Not until everything was over, she told herself.
As Josh hugged her tightly, Amy was aware that even at his most vulnerable, he was trying to be strong for her. He was in hell. His world, like hers, was shattered. Encased in his arms she felt nothing for him, other than a searing sense of disloyalty.
“You gave a wonderful reading,” Josh whispered.
In a desperate bid to force her to communicate her feelings, Josh had asked her to say something at the mass, give a reading. At first, Amy was surprised, although she didn’t show it because she had stopped showing anything. The idea of standing up in front of people and paying homage was something she would never have considered, but from the moment Josh mentioned it, her mind fixated on it. The dramatist in Maggie would have loved nothing more than a heartfelt eulogy, but the true reason was that Amy would be able to express her love. It would allow her to talk about her family as if they were still here. Give her that chance to engage with them, explore them, and feel them around her without question.
This morning, Amy had stood in front of a sea of familiar faces and opened a well-thumbed book of poetry that Maggie had loved since a teenager. She quoted a verse that Maggie often used then spoke words that she hadn’t written or rehearsed.
Amy didn’t speak for Josh, she couldn’t; her time with Celeste had robbed her of that right. She could only speak of what had been hers, outright and without compromise. She could only speak about her love for Maggie, her children and her brief time with Sean.
In a strong voice, Amy regaled their lives and, to her surprise, her words brought the mourners, weeping helplessly and hopelessly, to their knees.
When she finished, Amy briefly closed her eyes. A surprise emotion swept through her, a feeling of pride. She had given Maggie and her children their due. When she closed the book, she caressed the cover for a moment, acknowledging that she was also closing the book on her life.
Enough, Amy decided at that moment, was enough.
On duty at the hospital Celeste was paged to a small waiting room reserved for patients’ families. Looking through the window, she saw Josh crumpled in a chair. Outside the door, she turned to the nurse. “Thank you, Christine.” She touched her arm. “It’s good that you brought him here.”
“No problem, Celeste,” Christine replied. She looked through the window. “He’s in pretty bad shape. I hope everything’s okay.”
Celeste nodded and opened the door.
Josh stood and rushed to her. He grabbed her in a bone-crushing hug.
“Josh, what is it?” Celeste asked, hugging him back.
“She’s gone,” he replied, his voice catching.
“Amy?”
Josh nodded and let her go.
“Where?”
He ran a hand through his tousled hair. “She’s gone.”
“Where?” Celeste repeated. Frowning, she cleared her throat to loosen the tremor that was building there. “Where has she gone?”
“She’s gone,” Josh said, throwing out his arms. “She’s taken her passport.” He staggered to a chair. “She’s gone.” He slumped into it and looked at her disbelievingly. “There was only a note, telling me it was over.”
Celeste’s heart started to pound. “Josh,” she said, approaching him. “Maybe, she’s just taken some time out.”
“Fuck, Celeste!” Josh yelled, wringing his hands. “You’ve seen her over the last few months. You know what she’s been like. He smacked his fist into his hand. “I can’t reach her. She won’t talk to me. She can barely look at me.” Defeated, he placed his head in his hands. “It’s as if she can’t bear to be near me.”
Celeste watched her brother. She felt waves of panic come from him. “She’s in shock, Josh,” she said, sitting beside him.
Since the accident, Amy had refused any contact with Celeste, couldn’t bear to be near her. Even the rare times that they had been in the same place she would leave the moment Celeste entered. Swallowing the pain, Celeste placed a reassuring hand on her brother’s arm. “It just takes time,” she said, pulling him into her arms for a hug.
Josh jerked out of her arms and stood. He moved close to the large window. Rubbing his heavy stubble, he stared out across the car park for a while. “I brought a counsellor to her a few weeks ago.” He thudded his head lightly against the glass. “I didn’t tell her. I just had him visit the house.” He closed his bleary eyes. “She insisted that he leave.” He lifted his head. “She went crazy.” He turned and looked at Celeste, his eyes swam with tears. “I mean, really crazy.” He shook his head. “She smashed the entire kitchen up.”
Josh clenched his fists then ran them over his face and through his hair. He blew out a heavy sigh. “In all the time that I’ve known her, she’s hardly raised her voice.” His eyes grew wide and tears formed. “You know,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anger like that in my life.”
Josh closed his eyes and fat tears fell.
Panic coursed through Celeste. Since the accident, Amy barely communicated with anyone. “Josh,” she said, careful to ensure that her tone was even. “We can’t lose sight of the fact that Amy might just have taken some time out. I’m sure,” she said, trying to hide her uncertainty, “we’ll hear from her soon enough.”
Josh shook his head. “I got a call from George this morning.” He looked at Celeste. “You know, Amy’s boss.”
Celeste nodded.
“He was upset. He told me that Amy had contacted him.” Josh sighed heavily. “She told him that she didn’t want the job.” An incredulous look crossed his face. “She loves that job. I mean really loves it.”
“Did she give him an explanation?” Celeste said. Hands trembling, she pushed them into her whites, fully aware that Amy had only just returned to work.
Josh nodded. “She told him that it wasn’t what she wanted to do anymore.” He looked at Celeste helplessly. “But that’s all she’s ever wanted to do.”
Celeste looked at him in surprise. A memory of the morning of the accident flooded in. She recalled Amy slumped in her arms when she was told of the deaths. Celeste had
gathered her up and held her tightly.
Over the years, Celeste had seen many deaths and always without doubt the most difficult were the loss of children. That morning, she, more than anyone, understood the agonies that Amy was about to endure.
As the weeks and months passed, Celeste had tried to talk to Amy but she refused, eventually refusing to even look at her. Although she never spoke the words, Celeste knew Amy was crippled with guilt, somehow believing that the deaths were recompense for their affair.
Standing Celeste said, “We’ll find her.”
“It’s not that easy,” Josh replied, shaking his head.
“C’mon, Josh,” Celeste said, trying to rally him. “You’re the IT guy. Surely tracking someone down in the twenty-first century has to be fairly easy,” she said, frowning.
“No, you don’t understand.” He shook his head. “When I did my thesis, I worked for a few months with Interpol.” He paused when Celeste looked confused. “It was when I lived in Scotland.” Josh paused again and stared out the window.
Celeste encouraged. “And?”
Josh looked at her for a long moment, the pain evident in his eyes. “And, I helped set up an Internet-based tool for missing and unidentified people to make it easier for investigators and forensics to cross-reference. He snorted slightly. “It was at the beginning of our relationship.” He looked at Celeste, his tired eyes wide. “I wanted to impress her. I told her everything.” He slapped a hand on his forehead then rapped his knuckles on either side of his head. “I can’t believe I told her all the different ways a person can manufacture their own disappearance.”
Celeste felt her heart spasm. Unable to believe what Josh was saying, she asked, “What are you telling me?”
Frustration marked Josh’s face. “I’m saying that I shared the whole fucking thing with her.” He paced the room. “God, she knows better than anyone how easy it is to disappear!”
“But surely we can put a,” Celeste searched for the word, “trace on her?”
“Do you know how many people go missing each year in the States alone, Celeste?” Josh said, throwing his hands in the air. “Tens of thousands, and that’s people with no resources and no inside knowledge.”
Celeste shook her head. “But surely we can contact someone? Do something?”
“It’s not that easy,” Josh said. He stopped in front of her. “I contacted the sheriff’s office and missing persons. They did everything by the book, but as far as they are concerned, she’s a grown woman with no criminal record, who, given the circumstances, has probably gone back to her native country.” He hugged himself. “It’s been noted and filed.”
“There must be something we can do. Don’t you have any contacts at Interpol?”
Josh shook his head. “Celeste, I was an intern. I didn’t even have clearance to get into Interpol. I worked for a third-party company developing the software. I was a small cog in a big wheel.”
“Don’t you have even one contact from then?” Celeste asked, her whole body trembling now.
Josh shook his head. “The company I worked for went bust.”
Celeste looked at him in disbelief.
“It’s not unusual for software companies to go bust.”
“There’s no one you can contact?” Celeste asked incredulously.
Josh slumped in the chair. His palms covered his face. “Like I said, I was an intern.”
“What about you?” he asked. “What about MSF? Can they find missing people?”
Celeste shook her head slowly. “It’s not what they do.”
Josh dropped his hands and sat up. Shoulders slumped, he asked, “What am I going to do, Celeste?”
Celeste stared at Josh, suddenly aware that they were helpless to do anything.
“What if she never comes back,” he asked then started to cry. “What if I never see her again?”